The opening sequence of The Kingdom (2024) by Julien Colonna has a magical aura. Mystery surrounds the ceremony that introduces us to Lesia (Ghjuvanna Benedetti). There is an unusual beauty in the cadence with which the director portrays the ritual, contrasting Lesia’s innocence with the ferocity of the men butchering a freshly hunted animal. It’s a foreshadowing of what’s to come and the beginning of a circle that will inevitably have to close.

For director Julien Colonna, The Kingdom is a personal journey. This portrait of Corsica’s criminal underworld is a fictional story deeply inspired by his own life. His father, Jean-Jérôme “Jean-Jé” Colonna, was a key figure in Corsican organized crime, and his bloody vendetta to avenge his own father’s death became the stuff of legend. Jean-Jé was seen as the last “Parrin Corsu”—a real-life Vito Corleone. In the film, Lesia reunites with her father, Pierre-Paul Savelli (Saveriu Santucci), the head of a criminal organization, who is hiding in a safe house during a gang war in Corsica in the 1990s.

The Corsican Godfather

The Kingdom has the rawness of a film that explores the mafia world without embellishment, opting instead for a staging that gives it the feel of a documentary. But it also has the sensitivity to delve into the emotional weight of the father-daughter relationship—the trauma of an absent father and a teenage girl undergoing a painful transformation in a world she doesn’t understand. On the other side, we’re offered the father’s perspective—an implacable figure in his role as clan leader, yet a loving father desperately trying to connect with his daughter. The screenplay, co-written by the director and Jeanne Herry (Pupille, All Your Faces), masterfully balances genres, offering us deeply developed characters and a flawless narrative rhythm.

The film is Julien Colonna’s first feature-length work, and he displays an incredible instinct for storytelling, without wasting a single minute of screen time. It recalls titles like The Godfather (1972), Road to Perdition (2002), and Gomorrah (2008). Perhaps if you combined all three, the result would be The Kingdom. Antoine Cormier’s cinematography immerses us fully into Lesia’s world, and we feel just as overwhelmed as our protagonist. Complementing Cormier’s lens is Audrey Ismaël’s score, which pierces us with surgical precision.

The Kingdom is a double-edged sword—a harrowing coming-of-age story with all the emotional baggage that entails, and a portrait of Corsica’s criminal underworld. Innocence shattered by savagery, blood as an indelible stain.