Paradise is Burning review – chaotic and… | Little White Lies

Par­adise is Burn­ing review – chaot­ic and won­der­ful­ly tense

04 Sep 2024 / Released: 30 Aug 2024

Words by Grace Dodd

Directed by Mika Gustafson

Starring Bianca Delbravo and Ida Engvoll

Three children sitting on a pavement near a grassy area, one girl with curly hair and two boys, one wearing a patterned shirt.
Three children sitting on a pavement near a grassy area, one girl with curly hair and two boys, one wearing a patterned shirt.
4

Anticipation.

An indie European film about sisterhood will always spike the interest of cinephiles who grew up as the bratty little sister.

4

Enjoyment.

Chaotic and wonderfully tense, perhaps brought back too many memories of trying to kill my big sister (for no good reason).

3

In Retrospect.

A little forgettable and certainly loses itself in subplots, but still joyously chaotic.

Rage, ten­der­ness and no small amount of laugh­ter com­bine in this nuanced por­tray­al of the Swedish work­ing-class from writer/​director Mika Gustafson.

Par­adise is Burn­ing fol­lows teenage sis­ters Lau­ra, Mira and Stef­fi as they find them­selves left to their own devices by an absent moth­er and so descend into a hedo­nis­tic sum­mer of drink­ing and run­ning deli­cious­ly wild. Their par­adise is soon threat­ened by a phone call from the author­i­ties check­ing in on them how­ev­er, and at 16, eldest sis­ter Lau­ra (Bian­ca Del­bra­vo) scram­bles to find a woman who is will­ing to play their moth­er for an impend­ing show­down with Social Ser­vices. As the girls’ lives unrav­el, the ini­tial heady pace slows to almost a painful degree and it becomes clear their bois­ter­ous days can­not last forever.

Chaot­ic and inti­mate, Gustafson cap­tures the bal­anc­ing act of sis­ter­hood which at once encom­pass­es bru­tal­i­ty and ten­der­ness. The kinet­ic, fly-on-the-wall-style cam­er­a­work mir­rors the girls’ lack of sta­bil­i­ty and cin­e­matog­ra­ph­er Sine Vad­strup Brook­er jux­ta­pos­es her images with a won­der­ful­ly soft score and colour grad­ing. Indeed, every­thing with­in the frame chan­nels a hope­ful­ness that adds to the film’s mes­meris­ing lyricism.

A young, female, work­ing-class com­mu­ni­ty is also warm­ly depict­ed through joy­ous ensem­ble scenes. The cen­tral pro­tag­o­nists, who can often be found break­ing into people’s swim­ming pools for an after­noon of sun-soaked danc­ing and hys­ter­ics, cre­ate a pock­et of safe­ty for them­selves set apart from an out­side world which shuns their exis­tence. Refus­ing to con­form to any con­tem­po­rary stan­dards of fem­i­nin­i­ty, they are filled with jus­ti­fied rage, a state of being that is epit­o­mised by a bloody fight between 12 year-old Mira (Dil­vin Asaad) and anoth­er girl on the school playground.

Gustafson’s tan­gi­ble, viva­cious vision of sis­ter­hood does how­ev­er, strug­gle to stick the land­ing and, as the cred­its roll, we are left with a long­ing for some­thing a lit­tle more… sub­stan­tial. Kids fend­ing for them­selves’ is a genre well-estab­lished by the likes of Kings of Sum­mer, The Flori­da Project and Tai­ka Waititi’s Boy, and although we do imme­di­ate­ly become invest­ed in the lives of these char­ac­ters (and appre­ci­ate its rare por­trait of pover­ty in one of the world’s rich­est coun­tries), Gusta­fon does fall short of offer­ing us some­thing tru­ly fresh. 

There are brief ges­tures towards larg­er notions of robbed youths, par­tic­u­lar­ly for Lau­ra whose explo­ration of her sex­u­al­i­ty is curbed by the need to be an impromp­tu moth­er to her younger sis­ters, but Gustafson’s ren­der­ing of an abun­dance of joy despite an absence of wealth, although done well, stum­bles through the final half-hour still try­ing to fig­ure out what to say as it is say­ing it.

Much like a fire­work dis­play the sis­ters wit­ness as a local fun­fair, the youth of Lau­ra, Mira and Stef­fi in Par­adise is Burn­ing’ is fleet­ing and bright, often vio­lent yet whole­heart­ed­ly beau­ti­ful in a film which, despite cap­tur­ing their bound­less, untamed ener­gy, some­what fails to match their boldness.

Lit­tle White Lies is com­mit­ted to cham­pi­oning great movies and the tal­ent­ed peo­ple who make them.

By becom­ing a mem­ber you can sup­port our inde­pen­dent jour­nal­ism and receive exclu­sive essays, prints, week­ly film rec­om­men­da­tions and more.

You might like