Cecilia Verheyden’s Skiff initially sets sail in familiar waters. On the surface, its setup echoes many a coming-of-age drama: the dynamics of a fractured family and the struggles of adolescence above all. Yet, as its narrative progresses, what begins as a collection of recognisable tropes gradually deepens into a story of surprising emotional force, culminating in a final act that lingers with painful honesty and quiet grace. The movie has just screened at the Festival do Rio, as part of EFP’s Europe! Voices of Women+ in Film programme.

Fifteen-year-old Malou (played with exceptional poise and sensitivity by Femke Vanhove) lives in a small Flemish town with her mother (Natali Broods) and two brothers, including the protective but complicated Max (Wout Vleugels). A talented rower at the local club, she navigates the everyday challenges of adolescence: camaraderie tainted by bullying, the pangs of physical awakening and the isolation of being different. When Max introduces his new girlfriend, Nouria (Lina Miftah), Malou finds herself gripped by feelings she cannot easily express – desire, jealousy, admiration and shame intertwining in ways that push her towards a painful confrontation with herself and her family.

Verheyden and co-writer Vincent Vanneste allow the story to unfold with deliberate simplicity. The screenplay sidesteps narrative detours or excessive subplots, focusing instead on the nuanced inner world of Malou. That said, Vanhove’s performance carries the film: her Malou is neither an idealised heroine nor a victim, but a complex teenager whose contradictions feel utterly truthful. She embodies both determination and fragility, oscillating between fierce independence and the desperate need for comfort. Around her, the rest of the cast – especially Broods as a mother tentatively re-entering the world of dating – provide credible, layered support, although it is clear the pic belongs firmly to Malou’s perspective.

Technically, Skiff favours warmth and restraint. Jordan Vanschel’s cinematography relies on natural light and a warm palette that softens the small-town landscapes, often adopting handheld movements and straightforward shot/reverse-shot dynamics. Luckily, this simplicity avoids televisual flatness, instead heightening the intimacy of Malou’s world. Thomas Pooters’ editing ensures a tight rhythm, with no sense of filler or wasted time, whilst the score, by turns lightly eerie and ethereal, accompanies Malou’s emotional journey with understated precision.

If the film’s first half feels anchored in convention, it is in the second half that Skiff gathers real momentum. Here, Verheyden carefully modulates tone and pace, letting silence and glances speak volumes. A late exchange – “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” / “You failed.” – crystallises the brutal inevitability of adolescent experience, when growth comes at the cost of disappointment and rupture. It is this emotional candour, unembellished and unavoidable, that elevates the film beyond cliché.

Particularly commendable is Verheyden’s willingness to highlight the continued difficulty of growing up queer in Western Europe. The film resists the temptation to present Belgium as an automatically safe and accepting space. Instead, Malou’s fear, embarrassment and hesitation testify to the persistence of stigma within close-knit communities, where difference is still something to be concealed, rather than celebrated. This thematic strand gives Skiff an added layer of universality: whether in 2025 or decades earlier, the uncertainty of revealing oneself remains a daunting prospect.

The two closing moments are striking both emotionally and aesthetically. One scene employs a drastic stylistic shift in camera language, underscoring the turbulence of Malou’s inner life, while another resolves with subtle, resonant tenderness. Both choices pay off, proving that Verheyden’s understated approach can deliver unexpected power when it matters most.

Skiff begins with recognisable notes but grows into something rare: a story that respects the complexity of adolescence, and captures its beauty, cruelty and inevitability with clarity and compassion.

Skiff was produced by Mirage (Belgium) together with Les Films du Fleuve (Belgium), Lemming Film (Netherlands) and Grand Slam (Sweden). Outplay is selling it worldwide.