Jérémy Comte’s Paradise pivots on polarities. Two distinct geographies, socio-economic concerns, and cultures. Two widely different young lives, separated by thousands of miles, yet curiously aligned in inconceivable ways. As the catchline of the film itself puts it, “one life can change another”.
Paradise swings between continents, the Global South and the First World, and their teenage residents—Kojo (Daniel Atsu Hukporti Adjorble) in Ghana and Tony (Joey Boivin‑Desmeules) in Canada. Deeply influenced by the traditional wisdom of his fisherman father, Kojo finds himself shattered and unanchored when he disappears in a storm at sea. The youngster is forced to take to the street gangs in Accra for survival and does manage to make a success of it. However, the absence of his father and a resultant sense of emptiness in life remain difficult to deal with and fix.
Meanwhile, Tony has his own battles to fight. His seemingly normal, uneventful life in Quebec gets upended when he learns of his mother Chantal’s (Evelyne de la Chenelière) long‑distance romance with a ship captain. Is he then his missing, unknown father?
Their search for the truth about their fathers is not the only similarity underlying their lives. There is a larger questioning of the morality of the universe that both Kojo and Tony share in common, besides the lack of certainty and stability, and the usual confusions of adolescence, of being lost, and eventually finding themselves.
First-time, non-professional actors Adjorble and Boivin‑Desmeules are excellent in bringing the shared restlessness and angst of the contemporary youth alive while also giving a sensitive peek into their individual dilemmas, anguish, and pain, and the vulnerability behind the brash charisma.
The Canada-France-Ghana co-production premiered in the Panorama section of the Berlin International Film Festival. Its intriguing screenplay, based on the personal experiences of Comte, is co-written by him with the Ghanaian writer Will Niava.
Divided into three chapters--The Boast, Captain, Fire--the narrative weaves in elements of drama and action, mystery and romance and moves smoothly between the real and the surreal, the naturalistic and the dreamy, the prosaic and the magical, factual and the fanciful with Olivier Gossot’s cinematography, Sylvain Lemaître’s production design and Valentin Hadiadi’s original score contributing amply to the beguiling, whimsical touch.
The places themselves are like characters with Comte playing with the textures, weathers, sights, and sounds of Montreal and Accra to set up the visual contrast as well as that of the vibe, energy, and spirit of these spaces, the quietness of Quebec as opposed to the noisy Ghana.
Not only is the film truly collaborative in terms of its cast and crew of transcontinental talent, but in how it spotlights the modern, wired world in which technology might be bringing us closer virtually on the one hand and creating acute issues of faith and trust on the other. Are we living by the illusions we create for ourselves and others? Is deception the be-all and end-all?
It resonates in the light of the digital scams proliferating our modern-day existence—from fake romances and job promises to illegal money transfers. But on a larger, metaphorical level, it’s about how the ties that seemingly bind can also leave us disconnected and divided, hostility and antagonism can alternate with compassion, empathy, and understanding, especially in these polarised times.
While it raises several questions, the film doesn’t offer any easy solutions. Neither is it judgmental of the places and people. At both ends, in Ghana as well as Canada, for Kojo and Tony, the only way out is to accept the vagaries of life and find hope and happiness in them. Ultimately, what matters is our essential humanity, the key to finding our personal and collective paradise.