Amrum Review: Fatih Akin Explores the Subtle Threat of Fascism Through a Coming-of-Age Perspective

      There’s a reason for the unusual credit at the beginning of Amrum: “A Hark Bohm film by Fatih Akin.” Although the two had worked together previously on Akin’s In the Fade, this project began differently. Bohm initially penned the script to direct it himself but soon realized he lacked the strength to see it through. Having grown up on the island of Amrum (and being a teenager during the film's 1945 timeframe), it was undoubtedly a deeply personal project that Akin initially hesitated to take on.

      What ultimately prompted Akin to change his mind was the necessity of a rewrite for length. Through that process, Akin was able to make the film as much his own as it was Bohm's. It resembles the situation with A.I. Artificial Intelligence, where Steven Spielberg completed a project that Stanley Kubrick had started, representing a sort of baton-passing where both artists’ influences are visible, allowing their names to be jointly credited.

      In its simplest form, Amrum is a coming-of-age story focused on a 12-year-old boy named Nanning (Jasper Billerbeck), who embarks on a quest to gather the ingredients needed to prepare his mother (Hille, played by Laura Tonke) a plate of white bread with butter and honey. What should be a straightforward task during better times becomes nearly impossible due to the circumstances surrounding them.

      Why? Because they live as outsiders on this island during wartime, where food is scarce. Despite Hille’s family having owned their home for nine generations, she is not considered an Amrumer. Her neighbors view her as a mainlander from Hamburg, someone who holds her status and her husband’s military position in high regard. Even worse, she embodies a Nazi ideology so deeply that she undermines her own welfare to showcase it.

      Nanning’s challenge is thus twofold. He must collect items that are currently valuable (wheat, butter, and sugar), while also persuading people who resent his mother to help him acquire them. This illustrates the insidious nature of fascism: we see how a parent's sins can condemn their child, alongside the child’s struggle to balance their love for that parent against the hatred directed at her by others.

      This theme is initially explored through the contrast between Nanning’s family and a group of newcomers escaping the Holocaust. Both groups are refugees (with Hille hiding behind her privilege), both are desperate and hungry, and both seek sanctuary. Nanning's instinct to join the local community in disparaging these newcomers is a misguided arrogance. To the residents of Amrum, he is no better than them. Additionally, as a member of the Hitler Youth, the refugees have further reason to harbor animosity toward him.

      It’s a harsh lesson for a child whose parents have instilled in him an identity that starkly contrasts with the one represented by his surroundings. Nanning is a typical boy who believes his mother has his best interest at heart and sees himself as likable and deserving of friendships. However, in this particular setting, those beliefs place him teetering between two worlds, with this moment serving as the pivotal point at which he must make a choice.

      Bohm and Akin have set the stage perfectly for him to confront that decision. As World War II nears its end and Hitler’s grip on Europe falters, the Amrumers, emboldened by their own survival, become increasingly vocal in their opinions (as exemplified by Diane Kruger’s Tessa), more open about their illegal activities (like Lars Jessen’s Grandpa Arjan), and unreserved in discussing the past (Detlev Buck’s Sam Gangsters).

      This aspect is pivotal as it reveals to Nanning truths about his family that he must confront in order to grasp the inherent flaws and outright evil of their Nazi beliefs. Naturally, he struggles to accept that those he loves could be so unfeeling and cruel. Yet, he has seen the evidence, even if he hasn't fully processed it. He also witnesses his aunt (Lisa Hagmeister) grappling with Hille’s self-righteousness. The façade is crumbling.

      One can't help but draw parallels with the current American landscape as this unfolds. Many of us navigate the xenophobia and violence associated with the MAGA movement in our daily lives. We’re witnessing book bans, and the Trump administration has reshaped our government into one that operates more as a group of sycophants loyal to the president than to the Constitution. There’s also the hope of liberation as more democratic victories manifest in unexpected areas.

      Amrum illustrates why fascism is intent on dismantling educational systems grounded in truth and empathy—two concepts that are completely opposed to its agenda. Bigotry is a learned behavior. Without historical documentation proving its malevolence, we may find ourselves questioning our own experiences perpetuating the same patterns. Billerbeck shines when his character Nanning wrestles against the stark