Fatih Akin took over the direction of *Amrum* when his friend, the German cult director Hark Bohm, fell ill and was unable to direct it himself. Fatih Akin’s latest film is not, in fact, a typical Fatih Akin film at all. Rather, it is "a Hark Bohm film made by Fatih Akin."
By presenting *Amrum* in this way, the opening credits prepare the viewer for a type of story very different from what one might expect if already familiar with Akin’s work. But it also presupposes prior knowledge of Bohm—the cult German author, screenwriter, and film director who originally wrote the screenplay for this film, drawing inspiration from his childhood memories on that small island.
Director: Fatih Akin
Writers: Fatih Akin, Hark Bohm
Stars: Jasper Billerbeck, Laura Tonke, Lisa Hagmeister
When Bohm fell ill, Akin stepped in to help co-write the story, before finally agreeing to take on the directing duties as well. The result is a film that the director’s longtime fans might not even recognize as one of his own works. From the rawness of *Head-On* and the intensity of *In the Fade* to the sheer grotesquerie of *The Golden Glove*, Akin established himself early on as a provocateur unafraid to take risks. Who would have imagined that such audacity would lead to a film that completely eschews these inclinations—especially one that could so easily have ventured into controversial territory?
Akin’s twelfth feature film stylistically evokes post-war Neorealism, drawing inspiration from both Vittorio De Sica’s *Bicycle Thieves* and Roberto Rossellini’s *Germany, Year Zero* in its adolescent perspective. The pacing is decidedly leisurely as we watch a 12-year-old boy named Nanning Bohm (Jasper Billerbeck) care for his mother during the final days of World War II. The tranquil rhythms of island life are framed by majestic, sweeping shots of Amrum’s rugged coastal landscape. Yet, such simplicity conceals an inherent contradiction.
Aside from a minor thematic overlap with his coming-of-age drama *Goodbye to Berlin*, this film marks uncharted territory for Akin. For starters, there is the Cannes factor. *Amrum* premiered at the festival last year—though not in the competitive section where the German-Turkish auteur typically competes. "If I’m at the festival, I have that Palme on the poster," Akin recently remarked to IndieWire via Zoom from Hamburg. Perhaps the selection committee sensed a certain reticence on Akin’s part—he had initially attempted to emulate Böhm’s style as best he could, before realizing: "I shouldn’t do it the way he would. I should make this film in my own way."
However, this tension is perhaps best exemplified by the circumstances underlying the young boy’s plight. For Nanning is not just another child trying to find meaning in a world that has ceased to make sense. He is a member of the Hitler Youth, and his mother, Hille (Laura Tonke)—who is heavily pregnant—is so devastated by the Führer’s defeat that she cannot even muster the strength to eat. Should we pity Nanning’s situation? And, in turn, should we pity the very compassion Nanning feels toward his ailing mother?
*Amrum* refuses to steer us categorically toward one side or the other. Instead, we are simply invited to follow Nanning on his quest—one worthy of a fairy tale—for butter, honey, and white bread to comfort Hille; all this on an island where such provisions have been all but depleted by the war. Yet, when hunger and sorrow drive our protagonist to undertake a task as selfless as this, there arises a risk: that it might prove all too easy to empathize with a child living in a home where the Nazi flag still flies high. In his odyssey to procure ingredients—such as flour from the pharmacy or sugar from his grandfather—as well as the money needed to pay for all this and more, Nanning evokes the figure of Lamia (Baneen Ahmad Nayyef), the nine-year-old protagonist of Hasan Hadi’s recent film, *The President’s Cake*.
Both are children striving to help their loved ones in war-torn societies—realities that, in terms of their themes, do not stray far from the present day, even if they differ in their historical setting. While the latter confronts corruption more directly, both protagonists must contend with their own share of adversity, compelled as a result to mature with excessive haste. Certain scenes—such as the one in which Nanning is forced to recite the Hitler Youth oath, or the one in which he witnesses a seal being shot at point-blank range—fracture the otherwise conventional rhythms of *Amrum* and its period setting, which is reminiscent of a fable.
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