Our troubled young man this time is named Ayoub (engaging newcomer Ayoub Elasri). His mother is lonely, looking for love online but mostly failing. His half-sister is his most supportive ally, getting him more than the barely-men with whom he spends most of his time hanging out, looking at the common objects of teenage obsession—cars and girls. Ayoub’s dad is a junkie, seen almost entirely in an abandoned, emptied pool in which he shoots up and basically avoids Ayoub’s attempts at connection. At one point, Ayoub tells him, “Dad, I’m in love,” and he just laughs, knowing the trouble such a statement often leads to, and unable to really offer any cogent advice.
Ayoub is in love with a beautiful young woman named Laura (Sigrid ten Napel), who smiles at him and then tells her boyfriend about it. Laura’s boyfriend is one of the older, tougher guys on the other side of the street, and he doesn’t take too kindly to the young punk talking to his girl. Writer/director Sam de Jong crafts parallel groups. Ayoub and his friends are matched across the lot by what they might look like in ten years—another group of dude-bros with more tattoos, muscles, and the beginning of crow’s feet. It’s the same macho bullshit, tinged with more aggression and more failure. And Ayoub wants to nab Laura from its clutches before it’s too late.
At the same time, an even darker predator than Laura’s boyfriend lurks on the fringe of “Prince” in the form of a local gangster named Kalpa (internationally known rapper Freddy Tratlehner). He drives a flashy car and his name is spoken in hushed tones. He’s clearly crazy. Can he teach Ayoub how to stand up for himself? Can he be the father figure this young man so clearly needs but lacks?
The first act of “Prince” is stylish and creative. It is about the teen years of boredom and insecurity as much as anything. These kids who think they’re men hang around in what looks like constant sunshine, doing almost nothing but forming their identities in the process. De Jong and his team often shoot from unique angles, like knee-level, and sometimes even allow the characters to speak directly to the camera. This is the life of a teenager—stylized, exaggerated, but hollow. A synth-heavy score reminiscent of Cliff Martinez’s work on “Drive” gives the entire piece a unique flair.
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