Shabu review – effortlessly breezy neighbourhood portrait is full of flair

“I’m Shabu and I’m gonna be famous!” proclaims our hero – and he probably will be. The 14-year-old star at the heart of this exuberant documentary is a natural showman, with aspiring dreams of being a rapper. Unfortunately, when we meet him, Shabu's just taken his grandmother’s car out for a joyride and crashed it: he now owes her 1200 euros, which he has to pay back over the summer working odd jobs whilst she’s on holiday in Suriname.

Directed by Shamira Raphaëla, Shabu is heavy on bright poppy colours and summertime ebullience. A documentary it may be, though there are plentiful sections here that look semi-staged. It’s a little too artfully directed to be a fly-on-the-wall style doc, but this is superseded by the flair of its characters and Raphaëla’s sure narrative hand.

Shabu’s summer of penitence doesn’t quite go to plan: any teen boy foolish enough to joyride his grandma’s car is also not the type to be focused enough to make a ton of money in a few months doing odd jobs like selling popsicles and stacking shelves; his girlfriend, his best friend, and his music all take priority.

The music part gradually comes to dominate Shabu’s world, gearing up for a block party in his neighbourhood, aimed at paying back his debts. Frequently, we’ll find Shabu tapping along with drumsticks or with his hands on whatever surface he can find – the sound design takes over with non-diegetic drumming, emphasising the creative imagination firing inside his head. Throughout, Raphaëla finds plenty of opportunity to allow Shabu to showcase his talents, as well as his immaturity – all part of the territory of being a teenager.

The teen is a proud native of De Peperklip in Rotterdam, a large council estate known for its unusual paperclip-like shape: Google it and most of the first page results remark on its architectural innovations and plans to regenerate the area, but precious little about its largely working-class and racially-diverse community. Most images showcase it from above, the shape visible at once but the residents nowhere to be seen. The image of De Peperklip in Shabu is the exact opposite: it is all people, and we never see the place from above, only from ground level or – at best – from a balcony, reflecting the POV of its denizens.

It is, then, first and foremost a celebration of this world and the love and tenderness at the centre of Shabu’s coming-of-age, one foot in both the modern Netherlands and in the ancestral practices his family have retained through the generations. Raphaëla doesn’t shy away from the dark side of life in the area – Shabu and his friend stumble upon an elevator soaked in fresh blood, and discuss an acquaintance who’s been killed in a feud, but the focus remains on the resilience and solidarity that fuels this community. Combined with the music video aesthetics and a refreshing brevity (just 75 minutes!), Shabu is made an effortlessly breezy summer watch.

Shabu is released in UK cinemas on 7 July.