Red Island (2023)
Madagascar in the late 1960s and early 1970s was a place caught between two worlds. France had formally granted the island independence in 1960, yet its military presence lingered, and the communities clustered around those air bases existed in a curious bubble, half-French and half-adrift, insulated from both the political turbulence of the metropole and the growing Malagasy push for genuine self-determination (which would culminate in the 1972 uprising). It is into this odd, suspended atmosphere that Robin Campillo plants his story, drawing heavily on his own childhood memories of growing up on just such a base. The result is a film rooted in autobiography, filtered through the wide, only partially comprehending eyes of a boy who knows something is wrong with the world around him but cannot quite name it. That tension between innocence and complicity has rarely been such rich material, and it connects Red Island to a wider tradition of post-colonial French cinema that has been grappling, with varying degrees of honesty, with the legacy of empire for decades. For another angle on African stories told with care and without sentimentality, it is worth reading our review of Lingui, the Sacred Bonds, which takes a similarly unsparing look at the gap between official society and lived experience.
Campillo is best known internationally for 120 BPM (Beats Per Minute), his 2017 Prix du Jury winner at Cannes, a film that managed to be both politically charged and genuinely moving without tipping into polemic. That picture earned him a reputation as a director who could handle collective struggle on an intimate, human scale, and Red Island is in many ways its tonal opposite: quieter, more elliptical, and far more personal in its ambitions. Produced by a consortium of French and Belgian companies including Les Films de Pierre and Memento Production, with support from France 3 Cinéma, the film had the backing to shoot on location in Madagascar itself, giving it an authenticity of place that no studio backlot could replicate. The central role of Thomas falls to young Charlie Vauselle, carrying the film for much of its 117-minute runtime in the way that only a child performer with real presence can manage. Around him, Quim Gutiérrez and Sophie Guillemin play his parents, while Nadia Tereszkiewicz (who has been quietly building an impressive body of work in French cinema) provides one of the more memorable supporting turns as a figure whose life brushes uncomfortably against the edges of Thomas's sheltered understanding. For a film with similarly spare, observational qualities and a child's-eye relationship to a disappearing way of life, you might also find our thoughts on Utama a useful companion piece.
The film arrived on the festival circuit trailing considerable critical goodwill, though opinion was genuinely divided on whether its measured, dreamy pace was a feature or a flaw. It is a polished but unremarkable proposition on the page, the kind of prestige coming-of-age drama that European funding bodies tend to support warmly and general audiences approach with a certain wariness. Whether Campillo's undeniable visual sensibility is enough to carry the weight of its quieter stretches is precisely the question this review sets out to answer. Madagascar's cinema has rarely received this kind of international platform, so for further reading on films that place the island itself at the centre, our earlier coverage of Tany Mena offers some useful context on how local stories have been told from within rather than from without.
Robin Campillo’s 2023 film Red Island is a fascinating, if somewhat uneven, coming-of-age tale. The story is told entirely through the eyes of a ten-year-old French boy living on a military base in Madagascar during the final, fragile days of French colonial rule.
It is notoriously difficult to make a film about a fraught colonial past while remaining genuinely sensitive and avoiding the trap of being overly indulgent or romanticising the era. Credit where it’s due, Campillo walks that delicate line remarkably well, offering a nuanced, deeply personal look at a crumbling empire without ever losing sight of the human reality on the ground.
From a purely visual and performative standpoint, the film is a treat. The cinematography is gorgeous, bathing the screen in lush, tropical hues that immediately brought to mind the sun-drenched, aesthetic of Call Me by Your Name. The camera lingers on the vibrant flora and the humid, heavy atmosphere of the island, creating a deeply immersive and intoxicating environment. The acting across the board is also very good, with the cast delivering naturalistic, grounded performances that make this isolated military microcosm feel incredibly lived-in and authentic.
However, where the film truly stumbles is in its narrative drive. Despite the stunning visuals and strong performances, the writing and the overarching story left a lot to be desired. For the vast majority of the runtime, I found myself struggling to stay genuinely invested in the plot, as the pacing meanders and the central conflicts fail to grip you the way they should. It’s only in the final ten minutes (which are by far the most exciting and emotionally resonant stretch of the entire piece) that the story finally clicks into gear and delivers the payoff you’ve been waiting for.
Ultimately, Red Island is a beautifully crafted film that is let down by a somewhat sluggish and underwritten script. It’s a gorgeous visual experience that captures the end of an era with a painterly eye, but it asks for a lot of patience before it finally rewards you at the very end.
It’s a highly watchable, atmospheric piece of cinema that proves Campillo has a brilliant eye for the camera, even if his storytelling here doesn't quite match the sheer beauty of his imagery.
Red Island sits in that slightly frustrating category of films you are glad exist, even if you cannot wholeheartedly recommend rushing out to see them. Campillo has made something genuinely personal here, a film that wears its childhood memories openly and treats the colonial setting with more thoughtfulness than many of its predecessors in the genre. The questions it raises about privilege, complicity, and the stories children tell themselves to make sense of adult worlds are real and worth sitting with. If you have enjoyed other atmospheric, slow-burn dramas that prioritise mood and setting over conventional plot mechanics, this will likely find more favour with you than with those who prefer their narratives to keep moving. Either way, it is the kind of film that rewards a second conversation about it more than it rewards a second viewing. Some films are more interesting to think about afterwards than they are to watch. Red Island is very much one of those.
Rating: ★★½ | Year: 2023 | Watched: 2026-06-26
Trailer
▶ Watch the official trailer for Red Island (2023) on YouTube
Where to watch
Watch in the UK
Stream: Curzon Amazon Channel
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Buy: Apple TV Store · Amazon Video · Google Play Movies · Sky Store
Physical: Amazon UK · Zavvi
Watch in the US
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Buy: Amazon Video · Apple TV Store · Google Play Movies · YouTube
Physical: Amazon US
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