Sukkwan Island

Sukkwan Island is a captivating and deeply unsettling drama set in the wilderness, behind closed doors, that never lets the viewer go, even when the narrative itself sometimes seems to lose its way. Directed by Vladimir de Fontenay and adapted from David Vann’s deeply personal literary work, the film follows the fragile reunion between a father, Tom, played by Swann Arlaud, and his teenage son Roy, played by Woody Norman, as they attempt to spend a year together on an isolated island in the Norwegian fjords. What initially appears to be an adventure of reconciliation, survival, and rediscovered intimacy gradually transforms into a psychological ordeal where nature, silence, and emotional wounds all work against them. The film is at its best when it observes the daily life of this father and son—their awkward tenderness, their sudden bursts of closeness, their shared chores, their cold baths, their walks in the snow, and those moments when a single glance speaks louder than any line of dialogue. Like the best survival stories, Sukkwan Island understands that the real danger lies not only outside the cabin—in the wind, the ice, or the wild animals—but also deep within the human heart.

The film’s greatest strength lies in its two lead performances. Swann Arlaud, already unforgettable in Anatomy of a Fall, confirms here that he is one of the most fascinating actors of his generation, capable of making Tom both charming and deeply unsettling. He imbues the character with a warmth that explains why Roy wants to believe in him, but also with an instability that slowly poisons every scene. Tom is not portrayed as a monster, and that is precisely what makes him so unsettling: he is a man who wants to be a good father, who dreams of passing on something essential to his son, but who also clearly carries wounds and demons he cannot control. Opposite him, Woody Norman is remarkable in the role of Roy, providing the film with its emotional anchor. He captures with great accuracy the confusion of a boy who wants to admire his father but gradually realizes that love isn’t always synonymous with security. Their relationship shifts from tenderness to tension with an authenticity that is often painful to watch, and the film becomes, at its best, a dual coming-of-age story: Roy is forced to grow up too quickly, while Tom is confronted with the terrible limits of his own maturity.

Visually, Sukkwan Island is often magnificent. Director of photography Amine Berrada imbues the Norwegian fjords with a strange, almost hypnotic beauty, rendering the landscape both welcoming and menacing. The island is never merely a postcard backdrop; it becomes a character in its own right, a place of wonder, danger, and emotional exposure. The cabin, isolated from the rest of the world, becomes the ideal setting for this intimate drama, and the passing of the seasons gradually transforms the film from a story of freedom into a story of imprisonment. The sound design by Matthieu Villien, Damien Tronchot, and Kath Pollard beautifully reinforces this sensation: the wind, the snow, the silence, and the creaking of the wood all seem to weigh down on the characters. There is something very physical in the way the film makes us feel the cold, the fatigue, and the fragility of the bodies in such an environment. In these moments, Vladimir de Fontenay demonstrates real confidence as a filmmaker, creating tension not through spectacle, but through patience, atmosphere, and small details.

The film is also interesting because it rejects the easy clichés of the absent father and the angry son. Roy isn’t simply rebellious, and Tom isn’t simply irresponsible. Their bond is more delicate, more contradictory, and therefore more human. The opening scenes, where they fish, explore the island, listen to music, or try to establish a shared routine, are among the film’s most beautiful moments because they suggest what this adventure might have been under different circumstances. There is a poignant sadness in watching Roy gradually realize that his father’s dream of living off the land is perhaps less a gift than an escape. Tuppence Middleton, in the role of Elizabeth, Roy’s mother, appears briefly but decisively, embodying the sensible world Tom wants to leave behind, while Alma Pöysti, in the role of Anna, brings a calm and reassuring presence as a pilot connected to the island. Ruaridh Mollica, who plays the older Roy, lends the framing scenes a haunting quality, even if this narrative device doesn’t always fit seamlessly with the rest of the film.

Yet Sukkwan Island is not without its flaws. The film is extremely compelling, but its pacing sometimes stretches the same emotional and physical situations too thin, especially in the second half. Several scenes revisit the same themes: the harshness of the island, Tom’s instability, Roy’s growing fear, the impossibility of escape. These elements are essential, but the film could have been even stronger with a tighter structure. Some dialogue also feels a bit too direct, as if the film doesn’t always trust the power of its images and performances. More importantly, the ending is likely to divide audiences. Without giving it away, the final twist radically reframes what we’ve seen, and while the explanatory text before the credits helps us understand the deeper connection to David Vann’s personal story, it also creates a strange distance. Instead of fully amplifying the emotion, this risks leading the viewer to reconsider the film in a more intellectual rather than instinctive way. The impact is powerful, but not entirely satisfying.

It is perhaps this frustration that makes Sukkwan Island so hard to dismiss. It is an imperfect film, but it contains moments of true cinematic power. Its conclusion may seem abrupt, even manipulative to some, but the emotional truth of the father-son relationship remains strong enough to leave a lasting impression. One senses that Vladimir de Fontenay is attempting to preserve the trauma, ambiguity, and literary audacity of David Vann’s original work, even if cinema does not always allow for the same kind of inner turmoil as literature. The film works best when it stays close to Roy’s face, Tom’s silences, the island’s cold beauty, and that terrible idea that the people we love can also become those who put us most at risk. In this sense, the film is less a pure survival thriller than a psychological and emotional initiation, in which nature reveals rather than heals.
Sukkwan Island remains an ambitious, visually striking, and often moving film, carried by two exceptional performances from Swann Arlaud and Woody Norman. Its flaws are real, particularly in its final narrative choice and in a second half that sometimes drags, but the film’s atmosphere, sincerity, and emotional intensity make it a memorable experience. It is a harsh, beautiful, and unsettling work about fatherhood, depression, survival, and the impossible desire to make up for lost time. Like the island itself, the film is both fascinating and hostile, at times breathtaking, at times frustrating, but impossible to forget once the credits roll.

Sukkwan Island
Written and directed by Vladimir de Fontenay
Based on Sukkwan Island by David Vann
Produced by Carole Scotta, Eliott Khayat, Caroline Benjo
Starring Swann Arlaud, Woody Norman, Ruaridh Mollica, Alma Pöysti
Cinematography: Amine Berrada
Edited by Nicolas Chaudeurge
Music by Florent Chronie-De Maria, Jeremy Villecourt
Production companies: Haut et Court, Maipo Film, Good Chaos, Versus Production, Aurora Studios
Release date: January 25, 2025 (Sundance), April 29, 2026 (France)
Running time: 115 minutes

Viewed on April 2, 2026 at Club Marbeuf

Cookie's Mark: