Youth (2017)
Djibouti is not a country that tends to feature prominently in film criticism, or in much cultural conversation beyond geopolitical news bulletins. A small nation on the Horn of Africa, bordered by Eritrea, Ethiopia, and Somalia, it has a population of under a million people and a film industry that, until relatively recently, did not really exist in any formal sense. Which makes Youth (known in its original Afar title as Dhalinyaro) genuinely remarkable as an object before you've even pressed play. Released in 2017, it is the first feature film ever produced in Djibouti, a fact that carries real weight when you consider how many nations with far greater resources took decades to establish their own cinematic voice. The film sits comfortably within a broader wave of African coming-of-age stories that have found international festival audiences in the 2010s, films like You Will Die at Twenty and I Am Not a Witch, which use intimate, personal stories to do the work that sweeping historical dramas often can't: put an audience inside a specific life, in a specific place, at a specific moment.
The film was written and directed by Lula Ali Ismaïl, herself Djiboutian-born and based partly in France, and the co-production reflects that geography: Samawada Films is her own company, working alongside the French outfits Les Films d'en Face, Maïa Cinéma, and Conti Films. It's a modest production in terms of scale, and none the worse for that. Ismaïl had directed short films before this, but Dhalinyaro is her feature debut, and the ambition is clear even within the constraints of a tight budget and a slim 82-minute runtime. The premise is straightforward: three eighteen-year-old girls, each from a different social background, spending time together in the months before their lives potentially diverge. It's the kind of premise that lives or dies on the authenticity of its performances and its sense of place, both of which Ismaïl works hard to get right.
The three leads, Amina Mohamed Ali, Tousmo Mouhoumed Mohamed, and Bilan Samir Moubus, are joined by Roukiya Doualeh and Houriya Hassan in supporting roles. None of them are household names outside Djibouti, and several were non-professional or emerging actors, which gives the film a naturalistic, lived-in quality that polished but unremarkable productions with bigger casts often fail to achieve. The class dynamics between the three friends are handled without heavy-handed signposting: you read the differences in their clothing, their homes, their conversations about the future. The question of whether to pursue education in France hangs over the story like weather, something that feels distant and inevitable in roughly equal measure, which will feel familiar to anyone who has seen how smaller nations produce their own complicated relationships with emigration and opportunity. It's a theme that also turns up, in very different registers, in films like Capernaum and The Adopted Son, where young people exist at the intersection of tradition and an uncertain elsewhere.
Lula Ali Ismaïl’s 2017 film Youth (original title Dhalinyaro) holds the massive distinction of being the very first feature film ever made in Djibouti, which immediately gives it a fascinating cultural weight. The story follows three 18-year-old high school girls navigating the turbulent waters of late adolescence. They come from vastly different social classes, yet they share a common thread: they are deeply rooted in their local traditions while simultaneously being pulled toward the outside world by the allure of new technologies and global influences.
As a cultural window, the film is an absolute treat. It was genuinely brilliant to watch a story unfold from Djibouti, a place we so rarely get to see represented on the big screen. I was particularly struck by the social dynamics surrounding their futures, specifically learning that travelling to France for further education is such a massive, defining rite of passage for these young women. Ismaïl does a cracking job of balancing these specific cultural touchstones with the universal, messy realities of being a teenager, making the film incredibly engaging and beautifully shot from start to finish.
That being said, if there’s a slight hitch, it’s that the narrative doesn't necessarily reinvent the wheel. As far as coming-of-age stories go, it’s a really decent example, but it does play out a little "by the numbers". It follows the familiar, comforting beats of the genre without throwing in any wild, unexpected cinematic twists to truly set it apart from the pack. It felt quite similar in its rhythmic, slice-of-life approach to She Paradise, offering a predictable charm rather than a groundbreaking narrative. Still, the authentic backdrop and the genuine warmth of the three lead actresses carry it beautifully.
Youth is a highly watchable, culturally significant piece of cinema that might stick to a familiar formula, but delivers it with a whole lot of heart.
Youth is the kind of film that rewards a certain generosity from its audience: come to it for the window it opens rather than for formal innovation, and you'll find it good company for its 82 minutes. At three stars it sits in honest, respectable territory, a film that does what it sets out to do with warmth and care, even if it doesn't push hard against the edges of its genre. For a debut feature, and for a first feature from an entire country, that's no small thing. The real question it leaves you with, quietly, is what Lula Ali Ismaïl makes next.
Rating: ★★★ | Year: 2017 | Watched: 2026-07-02
Trailer
▶ Watch the official trailer for Youth (2017) on YouTube
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