Celebrating its world premiere in the Cannes Première strand of this year’s Cannes Film Festival, Amrum [+lee también:
tráiler
ficha de la película] marks a solid chapter in 2004 Golden Bear winner Fatih Akin’s filmography. Here, the Hamburg-born helmer co-writes and directs a deeply personal, historically resonant coming-of-age drama. Penned in collaboration with veteran screenwriter Hark Bohm and based on Bohm’s own childhood experiences, the film unfolds on the German island of Amrum during the turbulent final weeks of World War II.

On the titular windswept, isolated isle, 12-year-old Nanning (a magnetic Jasper Billerbeck) navigates the rugged beauty of his surroundings with a determination well beyond his years. He hunts seals in stormy waters, fishes by moonlight and works the land to help his mother, Hille (Laura Tonke), feed the family as the war crumbles around them. Despite the austerity, life on the island retains an air of innocence, even splendour. But as the Allied victory draws near, our protagonists sense that things are never going to be the same again.

Billerbeck, in his first major role, is a revelation. He brings to Nanning the right blend of candour, stubbornness and vitality, capturing the unfiltered emotional range of a boy thrust into a world shaped by survival, moral ambiguity and betrayal. Tonke is equally compelling, offering a nuanced portrayal of a mother grappling with loss and despair. The supporting cast adds depth and complexity. For example, Lars Jessen, in a smaller but essential role, is chilling as Grandpa Arjan – a loyal Nazi to the bitter end – symbolising the persistence of ideology long after defeat.

The cinematography, courtesy of Karl Walter Lindenlaub, veers towards cold, predominantly blue tones that mirror the emotional temperature of the story. At times clear and serene, at others menacing and overcast, the sky becomes a subtle narrator of the island’s tension and isolation. The camera lingers on desolate beaches and barren fields, building an atmosphere of beauty haunted by dread. This pristineness – stark, rather than sentimental – is probably one of the film’s most striking achievements.

Akin and Bohm craft a setting rich in dramatic tension: the collapse of Nazi Germany, the uncertain promise of post-war freedom and the growing pains of a boy caught between the two. Within this microcosm, Amrum explores not just the loss of innocence, but also the redefinition of morality in times of collapse. It’s a story of survival, of facing uncomfortable truths, and of growing up surrounded by silence and complicity.

Other technical contributions elevate the narrative without overpowering it. Seth Turner’s production design is understated yet immersive, while Joern Martens’ sound work subtly enhances the textural quality of island life. The delicate instrumental score by Stefan “Hainbach” Götsch is never overbearing: it never romanticises the struggle, but is always attuned to the film’s raw sensibility.

All in all, Akin’s pic is a heartfelt and visually arresting tale. It may not provide any easy answers, but it doesn’t need to. Its strength lies in its honesty, its unflinching gaze, and the poetic way it captures the fragile space between youth and ideology, nature and violence, memory and history.

Amrum was produced by Bombero International (Germany), Warner Bros Film Productions Germany and Rialto Film (Germany). Its international sales are being handled by Beta Cinema.