‘Amrum’ Review: Fatih Akin’s World War II Coming-of-Age Film Is Unlike Anything He’s Done Before

Fatih Akin’s latest film isn’t really a Fatih Akin film at all. Rather, it is “a Hark Bohm Film by Fatih Akin.” 

By framing “Amrum” this way, the opening credits prepare you for a very different kind of story than you’d expect if you’re already familiar with Akin’s work. But it also assumes prior knowledge of Bohm, the cult German author, screenwriter, and film director who originally wrote the script for this film, inspired by his memories of growing up on that small island. 

When Bohm fell ill, Akin stepped in to help co-write the story before eventually agreeing to take on directing duties, too. The result is a film that longtime fans of his might fail to even recognize as an Akin feature. From the grit of “Head-On” and the thrills of “In the Fade” to the sheer grotesquery of “The Golden Glove,” Akin established himself early on as a provocateur who isn’t afraid to take risks. Who knew that such daring would lead to a film that avoids these inclinations entirely, especially one that could have so easily leaned into controversial territory?
 
Akin’s 12th feature evokes post-war Neorealism in style, drawing from Vittorio de Sica’s “Bicycle Thieves” to Roberto Rossellini’s “Germany: Year One” in its pubescent outlook. The pace is decidedly unhurried as we watch a 12-year-old boy named Nanning Bohm (Jasper Billerbeck) care for his mother in the last days of World War II. Patient rhythms of island life are framed in majestic, sweeping shots of Amrum‘s rugged seaside landscape. Yet such simplicity belies an inherent contradiction.

Aside from some minor overlap with his coming-of-age drama “Goodbye Berlin,” this film marks uncharted territory for Akin. There’s the Cannes of it all, for one. “Amrum” premiered at the festival last year, but not in the German/Turkish auteur’s usual competition slot. “If I’m at the festival, I have that Palme on the poster,” Akin told Indiewire just recently via Zoom from Hamburg. Perhaps the selecting body sensed a reticence on Akin’s part, first trying to emulate Bohm’s style as best he could before realizing, “I should not do it the way he would do it. I should do this film the way I would do it.” 

Such tension is perhaps best exemplified, however, by the conditions underlying this young boy’s plight. Because Nanning isn’t just another child trying to make sense of a world that no longer makes sense. He’s a member of the Hitler Youth whose very pregnant mother Hille (Laura Tonke) is so distraught by the Führer’s defeat that she can’t even bring herself to eat. Should we sympathize with Nanning’s plight? And in turn, should we sympathize with Nanning’s own sympathies toward his ailing mother? 

“Amrum” refuses to sway us outright either way. Instead, we’re simply asked to follow Nanning’s fairytale-like quest, searching for butter, honey, and white bread to soothe Hille on an island where such rations have been all but depleted by war. But when hunger and sadness propel our protagonist forward on a selfless task like this, there’s a risk of it becoming all too easy to empathize with the boy who lives in a house where a Nazi flag still flies high.

In his journey to obtain ingredients like flour from the chemist and sugar from his grandfather — plus money for all this and more — Nanning brings to mind nine-year-old Lamia (Baneen Ahmad Nayyef) from Hasan Hadi’s recent film “The President’s Cake.” Both are children who strive to help those they love in wartorn societies, not so far removed from the present day in theme if not time. The latter faces more corruption up front, but both protagonists deal with their fair share of misfortune, growing up all too fast as a result. Scenes where Nanning must recite the Nazi Youth pledge or watch a seal get shot at close range fracture the otherwise conventional rhythms of “Amrum” and its fable-like period setting.      

This is the rare film that looks at wartime life in Germany with a focus on everyday Germans, specifically. All but oblivious to the darkest atrocities committed during that time, these characters are about as far removed from the action as you could get. Yet the war’s impact is entrenched in them all, regardless, even if the island itself remains untouched by the evils of that time.  

Akin enlisted his old friend and colleague Diane Kruger to star in the film, and she was given free rein to choose whichever character she liked. The result is a minor yet moving role as Tessa, a Frisian-speaking potato farmer of a similar age to Hille who doesn’t blindly support Hitler’s cause as she does. That contrast brings everything into sharp focus for us, if not Nanning at first. But even as darker adult realities come to light, nothing is black-and-white here (aside from the actual film itself). That the boy’s loss of innocence is driven by family and neighbors rather than full-blown membership in the Hitler Youth speaks volumes.

As unconventional as “Amrum” might be in tone and approach to this subject matter, especially for Akin, the story seems to have resonated with modern German audiences regardless. Released in Germany first, “Amrum” became a sleeper hit, grossing more than $8 million in October last year. “It hit a nerve here,” Akin told IndieWire earlier, referring to the rise of the far right and how a film like his “works as a therapy session for society.” There’s no outright preaching, no plea to condemn or sympathize either way. What unfolds is far more complex, morally speaking, even if the bones of the narrative and how it’s shot are deliberately pared down. 

Such fluidity also extends to Amrum itself, where the land and water ebb and flow into one another, forming mudflats and murky patches of quicksand. Nothing feels entirely fixed here, much like the very real memories that “Amrum” is based on. Bohm sadly passed away in November 2025, but this remains just as much his film as it is Akin’s. He’s there in the painterly, romanticized setting, he’s there in the classical tone that’s largely been forgotten by cinema at large, and he’s there in the childhood exploits Akin’s built on to redefine his approach to filmmaking. As such, this really is “a Hark Bohm Film by Fatih Akin,” which conversely has us more excited than we have been in a long time to see what Akin gets up to next.