IFFR
Shabu paints a period of time in the life of a boy who’s faced with masculinity in the process of growing up.
Directed by: Shamira Raphaëla
Year: 2021
Country: Netherlands
Length: 75 minutes
When 14-year-old Shabu wrecks his grandmothers car while taking a joyride, he has the summer to pay back the reparations for the car. During this summer, he will need 1200 euros in order to pay for the reparation costs, to win his family’s trust back and to have his grandmother, who has been ignoring him since the incident, talk to him again.
Shabu dreams of becoming famous and being a big name in the music industry. He isn’t afraid to scream this wish from the rooftops and he always wants to be bigger than the rest. Shabu has his own home studio with music equipment and a studio microphone. In his spare time, he spends time with his friends and girlfriend, who all feel slightly neglected by Shabu, since he’s been spending so much time on his ambitions.
Shabu does chores and sells ice cream in the neighborhood in order to earn extra money, but his goal is to raise money by giving a concert, so he can both take his responsibility for wrecking his grandmothers car and fulfill his dreams as an aspiring celebrity.
This cinematically shot documentary sheds light on a phase many boys go through during puberty: the period between being a child and having to take care of one’s future, having to responsibility as an adult, which for many includes the need to (over)perform masculinity in order to impress. Shabu wants to be seen and celebrated by the world.
Shabu is in many ways a feelgood film, with many fun and celebrative moments, aimed at audiences around the same age range as the protagonist himself. However, the film isn’t afraid to take a look at his unfortunate surroundings. Living in a lower-class neighborhood in a residential building called ‘Peperklip’, Shabu is oftentimes confronted with situations you wouldn’t wish anyone to be in, especially not a 14-year-old. Nevertheless, this doesn’t prevent him from wanting to fulfill his biggest dreams.
There’s a kind of danger in many narratives that are presented like this. In films that center people from marginalized and lower class backgrounds with big dreams, we’re oftentimes shown a story of how a person succeeds because he has to work harder. ‘Work hard and you’ll achieve’ is the message many tend to get out of it. But Aruban-Dutch director Shamira Raphaëla doesn’t fall for this trap. Instead, there’s a large focus on how Shabu’s circumstances affect him negatively. In one sequence, Shabu and his friend find themselves standing in front of a blood-filled elevator during one scene. This moments reminds the audiences, while not dwelling on the image too long, about the circumstances of this family. In another scene, Shabu’s friend shows him a video of a man getting stabbed and shot. ‘Life moves fast’, Shabu says. While it’s clear that these situations shape Shabu’s views on life and his need to grow up and be successful as soon as he can, there’s no direct causality between these circumstances and his level of success.
In the end, Shabu learns a lesson about redemption, forgiveness and how to make amends with someone after really messing up. He’s one step closer to being an adult, but the beautiful thing about this documentary is that Shabu also recognizes that he’s only a child and that there’s still time left to grow.
Many insecurities that men experience during adolescence are shown. Shabu is scared that his girlfriend might cheat on him with one of her good friends. He’s afraid that he’s not masculine enough for her. ‘Crying for a girl once is normal. If it happens more often, you’re stupid’ says a boy at the pool to Shabu. This makes him feel insecure. However, Shabu and his close friend spend a lot of the time presenting a healthy form of masculinity that younger audiences can learn from. They’re not afraid to discuss their fears, thoughts and emotions; something many young men are pressured to hide from others.
Shabu screened at the 2022 International Film Festival Rotterdam.
