Documentary maker Shamira Raphaëla was on the eve of shooting a film about four teenagers on Rotterdam’s De Peperklip estate (so-named for its distinctive shape like an opened-out paperclip) when one of her subjects asked to drop out. This is Sharonio “Shabu” Abisoina, a larger-than-life 14-year-old Dutch-Surinamese wannabe rapper, who was in the doghouse after crashing his grandmother’s car. Rather than let him go, Raphaëla used this incident as the launch-pad for a celebration of Shabu that is every bit as jubilant and irrepressible as he is. Largely favouring low angles, the better to gaze up with awe at him and his cohort, Raphaëla follows him through the summer as he struggles to raise €1,200 to pay for the damage before his grandmother, first seen scolding him on Skype, returns from Suriname. After hawking popsicles to neighbours, he hits on the idea of charging two euros a head for a block party, complete with dancers and DJs.
Shabu may be joyous but he is easily distracted, drumming restlessly on any surface he can find, messing up the simplest errands (sent out for toilet rolls, he comes back with steak) or announcing, “I’m going to be famous!” to anyone who’ll listen. Most of his life is spent juggling time with his bestie, Jahnoa, and his “wifey”, Stephany, as he tries to balance their competing demands. Without ever labouring the point, the film shows this overgrown kid, who raps about being “a little boy from Peperklip”, learning how to be an adult.
A few brief, bloody allusions to crime on the estate can’t dampen the picture’s vitality and colour. Every shot feels like a shindig, which makes it odd that the final party sequence itself feels rushed. Perhaps Raphaëla might also have varied the tempo a bit more, though a bluesy score helps cool things down occasionally, as do scenes peeking behind Shabu’s clownish exterior. The overall effect is magical and euphoric, rather as if Jacques Demy had jazzed up La Haine.
• Shabu is released on 7 July in UK cinemas.
