THE STORY – In Ghana, Kojo is a teenager torn between the freedom of the streets of Accra and the traditional values of his father, a fisherman. Then, during a storm, his father disappears at sea. Devastated and short on money, Kojo enters the world of street gangs. He rises quickly through the ranks, but his success fails to fill the void inside him. Meanwhile, in Quebec, Tony, a rebellious yet sensitive teenager, lives with his mother, Chantal. When he discovers her long-distance relationship with a mysterious cargo ship captain, Tony begins to suspect that this man might be the father he has never known. Paradise is a story of distance, trust and the quiet gravity that binds us.
THE CAST – Daniel Atsu Hukporti, Joey Boivin Desmeules & Evelyne de la Chenelière
THE TEAM – Jérémy Comte (Director/Writer) & Will Niava (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 90 Minutes
In his latest feature, Jérémy Comte, with co-writer Will Niava, investigates the fragile architecture of paradise. In this film, paradise is defined by those places we shape for ourselves, either physically or mentally, to find a semblance of peace in a harsh world. It is a poignant exploration of how we retreat into fantasy to numb the sting of isolation, exploring the quiet gravity that connects two boys on opposite sides of the globe.
“Paradise” opens with a stunning, dream-like sequence bathed in the atmospheric blue hue of night. We are by the sea, the low moan of a ship horn blending seamlessly into the score by Valentin Hadjadj. But there is a foreboding presence in the air: black smoke. A downward shot shows feet racing across the sand before a man in a boat tears across the water. Through a visceral first-person camera view, the man in the boat recounts a haunting memory of black smoke rising to the sky and a huge ship aflame. The visuals here are breathtaking and harrowing as people on fire jump from the ship, their orange reflections captured in the black waters of the night. The boat rider finds a man in the water: an American captain.
From this high-stakes prologue, “Paradise” shifts to a grounded, slice-of-life warmth on the traffic-jammed streets of the Ghana capital, Accra. We meet Kojo (Daniel Atsu Hukporti), a teenager caught between his father’s traditional values and the pull of the streets. The energy of Accra is palpable; music booms as the head of a street gang arrives, throwing money and finger guns in the air while a crowd follows. Kojo’s father, a fisherman, scolds his son for mimicking those finger guns, a subtle hint at the violence of wayward boys in their community.
As the film transitions through time, Kojo grows older, watching “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” on TV, repeating the dialogue as if searching for a map out of his own reality. Meanwhile, the narrative pivots to Quebec, introducing Antoine (Joey Boivin Desmeules), a skateboarding teenager always shielded by his headphones and the smoke of marijuana. Antoine lives with his mother, Chantal (Evelyne de la Chenelière), and harbors a deep-seated longing for the father he has never known.
The connection between these two boys is a collisional force of gravity. Both are grieving; both are searching. After a devastating storm in Ghana, Kojo’s father disappears at sea. It is this void, both emotional and financial, that drives Kojo into the world of street gangs. He rises quickly through the ranks, but the success fails to fill the emptiness inside.
The two worlds intersect through a mystery of distance and trust. Kojo begins posing as a mysterious cargo ship captain to engage in an elaborate dating scam with Chantal. For Chantal, this “Captain” is a romantic escape; for Tony, he represents the father figure he’s missing; for Kojo, the Captain is a story his father once told him—a haunting dream he now inhabits to survive. The film is at its most analytical when it shows the scam from both sides of the screen, highlighting how the human desire for connection is often born from profound loneliness.
However, the film’s emotional continuity falters. The evolution of Kojo’s character feels too quick; his transition from a grieving son to a hardened gang member, and then to a boy purportedly in love with his mark, lacks the narrative depth to feel entirely earned. This romantic turn feels unconvincing, and the emotional crux of the film can at times feel almost hollow, perhaps a result of the script or the limitations of non-professional actors in conveying such complex, nuanced shifts.
Despite a script that could have been tighter, Olivier Gossot’s cinematography ensures “Paradise” remains a visual triumph. The film’s end and beginning connect in a hauntingly circular way, as the father’s story of the burning ship now mirrors Kojo’s own reality. It is a film that speaks to the universality of loss and loneliness. It’s a journey through grief that suggests paradise is often just a story we tell ourselves to feel less alone. While something feels missing to give the story its full weight, “Paradise” remains a compelling look at the moral and cultural similarities that bind us when we recognize a familiar pain in another.
