Safe Place (2022)

A safe place.

I found the way they used those dark frames to compress the image quite interesting—honestly, I wouldn't have minded if they went even more radical, making the frame progressively tighter as the film unfolds. Then again, maybe I’m overthinking it; perhaps the director and cinematographer just liked shooting from another room because they saw someone else doing it. 🤷

As for the rest of the film, it fails to hold my interest entirely. The director's decision to constantly film himself is bizarre—since he's pulling the material from his own life, it would have felt much more "auteur" if he didn't insist on being the center of the story. It gets even stranger as he subtly shifts the responsibility for the events onto "institutions." What we end up with is a film lacking any perceptive depth—just a mere statement on a nothing special case of paranoid schizophrenia. That moment where the fourth wall breaks in the first third is a cute gimmick, but unfortunately, it doesn't work well beyond a superficial level. Plus, the info about the lawsuit against the hospital just makes the author/protagonist even less likable, which I assume wasn't the intention.

Steven Spielberg gave a striking performance; Timothée Chalamet and Anne Hathaway were decent enough.

While there are a few powerful, emotional beats, the movie is plagued by issues—ranging from dialogue that feels mostly dry and uninspired (save for a couple of lucid moments) to lackluster supporting performances. Then there’s Lerotic's "acting"—it teeters between genuine emotion and just reciting lines; unfortunately, his facial expressions don't quite sell the conviction needed. You end up rooting for him throughout, but there's this nagging sense of discomfort because it just doesn't feel entirely authentic.

Secondly, why take a minimalist film that's already somewhat stagnant and shoot it so statically? It lacks soul in the close-ups, feeling more like a pre-determined mathematical formula than art. The camera work actually weighs the film down rather than elevating it; it’s overly "textbook neutral" and occasionally reaches for stylizations that feel completely out of place given the script and the overall narrative.

The central characters—the brother and the mother—are left hanging. They aren't fleshed out with anything particularly compelling, making it hard to actually connect with them. I get the intention behind the minimalism—the idea of capturing the dullness of everyday life and the struggles of ordinary people—but "ordinary people" can be far more fascinating than what we have here.

Markovic proved he's a solid actor (with plenty of credit going to the director there), whereas Shishkov comes across as an underdeveloped character; her performance is mediocre at best, which I suspect is more a result of the director's character construction than her own fault.

On top of all that, the meta-filmic attempts are far from spectacular—they're just irritating—especially since the structural foundation and direction aren't even cohesive to begin with. This feels like one of the most pretentious directorial attempts in recent years, masquerading as a "small indie film about a simple story." As a viewer, it feels condescending and frankly, annoying.

The film reminds me a bit of *No Country for Old Men*—and that’s not a compliment—in its attempt at dedramatization and how characters react to shocking events. It all feels a bit unnatural. Even if Lerotic and the mother behaved that way in real life, on screen it feels awkward, breaking the immersion and failing to create the emotional intensity a viewer is supposed to feel. Not to mention, *No Country for Old Men* has a much better ending.

To be fair, you can feel the pure love between the brothers; there's a warmth there that's genuinely great. But as a piece of cinema? It failed to land for me.

The movie is really about that total loss of control—that gut-wrenching moment when you lose someone close to you and realize you’re completely powerless to stop it. If the film had leaned harder into deep character studies, we might have ended up with a different, perhaps more narratively dense experience, but then it would have lost its core theme. We would have been handed some logical, rational explanation for why a character wants to end it all, and that would have missed the point. The whole idea is that sense of absolute disorientation, where the characters don't actually understand what's happening or how to process it; they can only watch helplessly as everything slips through their fingers. For me, the film captured that sensation perfectly.

There’s an extra layer here, too: the fact that the filmmaker is openly attempting to reconstruct those specific days. It acts as this meta-cinematic reminder that we aren't watching a story unfolding in real-time, but rather the director's—or the protagonist's, or even the actor's—attempt to regain some semblance of control over the past. It's an effort to turn a chaotic reality into a stylized narrative, using filmic reconstruction as a way to finally make sense of his brother, his mother, and himself. By the end, I felt more of a strained struggle than a successful breakthrough, but honestly, I don't think that's a flaw in the film.

Stylistically, I'm a fan. I think the editing is handled beautifully and feels intentional most of the time, mostly serving to prevent the situation from veering into pure melodrama. It would have felt far too "in your face" if they had pushed that style any harder.

Does the subject matter justify a full-length feature? Maybe not. There isn't much character growth or evolving ideas; instead, it's just a depiction of one chaotic state of being that steadily spirals downward. In that sense, the film is incredibly simple. But since I found it genuinely engaging and it actually moved me, I didn't mind the simplicity one bit.

ruggedjackal46 said:The movie is really about that total loss of control—that gut-wrenching moment when you lose someone close to you and realize you’re completely powerless to stop it. If the film had leaned harder into deep character studies, we might have ended up with a different, perhaps more narratively dense experience, but then it would have lost its core theme. We would have been handed some logical, rational explanation for why a character wants to end it all, and that would have missed the point. The whole idea is that sense of absolute disorientation, where the characters don't actually understand what's happening or how to process it; they can only watch helplessly as everything slips through their fingers. For me, the film captured that sensation perfectly.

There’s an extra layer here, too: the fact that the filmmaker is openly attempting to reconstruct those specific days. It acts as this meta-cinematic reminder that we aren't watching a story unfolding in real-time, but rather the director's—or the protagonist's, or even the actor's—attempt to regain some semblance of control over the past. It's an effort to turn a chaotic reality into a stylized narrative, using filmic reconstruction as a way to finally make sense of his brother, his mother, and himself. By the end, I felt more of a strained struggle than a successful breakthrough, but honestly, I don't think that's a flaw in the film.

Stylistically, I'm a fan. I think the editing is handled beautifully and feels intentional most of the time, mostly serving to prevent the situation from veering into pure melodrama. It would have felt far too "in your face" if they had pushed that style any harder.

Does the subject matter justify a full-length feature? Maybe not. There isn't much character growth or evolving ideas; instead, it's just a depiction of one chaotic state of being that steadily spirals downward. In that sense, the film is incredibly simple. But since I found it genuinely engaging and it actually moved me, I didn't mind the simplicity one bit.

Unfortunately, having a solid concept and nailing down every tiny detail from those two days doesn't guarantee anything will actually work on screen. Personally, I'd take better direction and acting over an author's meta-cinematic commentary or dense script breakdowns any day. There’s a massive difference between preparation—just blindly following a template—and what actually happens when you start assembling scenes in the editing room.

Even in the synopsis, the filmmakers are basically asking for a free pass on potential directorial flaws just because it's based on a true story. What is that supposed to mean? How many films are "based on personal experience" that don't lead with that disclaimer? When I sit down to watch something, I want a cinematic experience first—I can always go research the author's life and intentions afterward if I actually enjoy the movie.

Pros: courage, attention to detail, emotional impact, Markovic's acting

Cons: lackluster dialogue, mediocre acting overall, subpar direction, misguided filming style

amberfox7 said:Unfortunately, having a solid concept and nailing down every tiny detail from those two days doesn't guarantee anything will actually work on screen. Personally, I'd take better direction and acting over an author's meta-cinematic commentary or dense script breakdowns any day. There’s a massive difference between preparation—just blindly following a template—and what actually happens when you start assembling scenes in the editing room.

Even in the synopsis, the filmmakers are basically asking for a free pass on potential directorial flaws just because it's based on a true story. What is that supposed to mean? How many films are "based on personal experience" that don't lead with that disclaimer? When I sit down to watch something, I want a cinematic experience first—I can always go research the author's life and intentions afterward if I actually enjoy the movie.

Pros: courage, attention to detail, emotional impact, Markovic's acting

Cons: lackluster dialogue, mediocre acting overall, subpar direction, misguided filming style

Exactly—this kind of emotional blackmail and "director's safety net" really rubs me the wrong way. It implies the audience isn't allowed to have an opinion since "it actually happened." We saw the exact same thing with that recent American film, "Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Diary"—you aren't supposed to point out the obvious shortcomings because those children really did die.

I generally agree that the whole "but this actually happened to me" argument shouldn't be the ultimate litmus test for whether a movie works. On the flip side, Lerotic explicitly leans into that in the film—it’s pretty clear we aren't just watching a scripted story, but rather the director's attempt to process his own personal trauma through the lens of those events. The line between fiction and documentary gets blurry here, and honestly, I think it would be a mistake to watch it strictly as a standard drama. That doesn't mean criticisms regarding the style, the acting, or the pacing aren't valid, though.

By the way, Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Diary is a much worse film.

ruggedjackal46 said:I generally agree that the whole "but this actually happened to me" argument shouldn't be the ultimate litmus test for whether a movie works. On the flip side, Lerotic explicitly leans into that in the film—it’s pretty clear we aren't just watching a scripted story, but rather the director's attempt to process his own personal trauma through the lens of those events. The line between fiction and documentary gets blurry here, and honestly, I think it would be a mistake to watch it strictly as a standard drama. That doesn't mean criticisms regarding the style, the acting, or the pacing aren't valid, though.

By the way, Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Diary is a much worse film.

That’s precisely where the issue lies—the reason the film fails to truly land is that it functions more like a stylized essay manifesto about brotherly love rather than a narrative wrapped in docufiction. It stems from this semi-artificial affectation in Lerotic's acting and dialogue; it isn't natural enough, constantly striving for deep emotional impact and tragedy. There's also this persistent directorial urge to dampen everything down—as if there's some belief that you can make a film without the drama, the crowds, the heightened emotions, or the spontaneity... Why is there this perpetual American fear that the screen can't handle anything raw or wild, so everything must be muted and understated?

It would have been far better if the director had used a voiceover, similar to his short film, or simply shot a documentary and recreated a few scripted scenes. In my view, the fundamental mistake was casting himself.

What I'm getting at is that the film gets stuck in this limbo—it doesn't quite work as a "pure" feature nor as effective docufiction because the formula is flawed. You can't achieve genuine rawness through stylized direction and acting, and putting himself in the lead feels like nothing more than an alibi for the parts that didn't quite click.

He aimed for a minimalist, poetic art film that felt larger than life, which is fine—but even the great masters struggle with that. Here in the States, people tend to value a "brave attempt" or a novelty over the actual substance or quality of the film. We love it when someone tries something different or production-heavy; nobody here has ever attempted to pour a day and a half of their private life into a feature film, so it's an instant win for the average moviegoer.

Then there's the matter of suicide—a universal theme that almost everyone has some connection to. Because of that, the refusal to acknowledge the film's glaring flaws is even more pronounced. It’s difficult, on a purely human level, to go against this film or criticize it when you know the man is still living through that trauma. But look, he put himself up for judgment, so it's a bit petty to stay silent about the obvious shortcomings.

To use a basketball analogy: he had three free throws and a sideline shot, but only managed to sink one: he proved he truly loved his brother. The rest wasn't exactly a slam dunk.

ruggedjackal46 said:I generally agree that the whole "but this actually happened to me" argument shouldn't be the ultimate litmus test for whether a movie works. On the flip side, Lerotic explicitly leans into that in the film—it’s pretty clear we aren't just watching a scripted story, but rather the director's attempt to process his own personal trauma through the lens of those events. The line between fiction and documentary gets blurry here, and honestly, I think it would be a mistake to watch it strictly as a standard drama. That doesn't mean criticisms regarding the style, the acting, or the pacing aren't valid, though.

By the way, Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Diary is a much worse film.

I've got a bit of a personal issue here—maybe even a trauma. 😁I think an author needs to offer more than just raw, personal trauma—that’s not enough on its own. Plus, blaming hospital negligence for the outcome while using "love" as an excuse for his actions suggests he isn't even honest with himself—so how can I expect him to be honest with me?

ruggedjackal46 said:I generally agree that the whole "but this actually happened to me" argument shouldn't be the ultimate litmus test for whether a movie works. On the flip side, Lerotic explicitly leans into that in the film—it’s pretty clear we aren't just watching a scripted story, but rather the director's attempt to process his own personal trauma through the lens of those events. The line between fiction and documentary gets blurry here, and honestly, I think it would be a mistake to watch it strictly as a standard drama. That doesn't mean criticisms regarding the style, the acting, or the pacing aren't valid, though.

By the way, Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Diary is a much worse film.

I wouldn't go that far—this is strictly a scripted feature, nothing more. There isn't a single documentary element to be found in it.

ruggedjackal46 said:I generally agree that the whole "but this actually happened to me" argument shouldn't be the ultimate litmus test for whether a movie works. On the flip side, Lerotic explicitly leans into that in the film—it’s pretty clear we aren't just watching a scripted story, but rather the director's attempt to process his own personal trauma through the lens of those events. The line between fiction and documentary gets blurry here, and honestly, I think it would be a mistake to watch it strictly as a standard drama. That doesn't mean criticisms regarding the style, the acting, or the pacing aren't valid, though.

By the way, Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Diary is a much worse film.

If I were to say.

Does anyone know where I can stream this movie?

Alex Thomas10 said:Does anyone know where I can stream this movie?

There will be another screening at the Sundance Film Festival—plus it's hitting theaters soon, maybe even next week.

amberfox7 said:That’s precisely where the issue lies—the reason the film fails to truly land is that it functions more like a stylized essay manifesto about brotherly love rather than a narrative wrapped in docufiction. It stems from this semi-artificial affectation in Lerotic's acting and dialogue; it isn't natural enough, constantly striving for deep emotional impact and tragedy. There's also this persistent directorial urge to dampen everything down—as if there's some belief that you can make a film without the drama, the crowds, the heightened emotions, or the spontaneity... Why is there this perpetual American fear that the screen can't handle anything raw or wild, so everything must be muted and understated?

It would have been far better if the director had used a voiceover, similar to his short film, or simply shot a documentary and recreated a few scripted scenes. In my view, the fundamental mistake was casting himself.

What I'm getting at is that the film gets stuck in this limbo—it doesn't quite work as a "pure" feature nor as effective docufiction because the formula is flawed. You can't achieve genuine rawness through stylized direction and acting, and putting himself in the lead feels like nothing more than an alibi for the parts that didn't quite click.

He aimed for a minimalist, poetic art film that felt larger than life, which is fine—but even the great masters struggle with that. Here in the States, people tend to value a "brave attempt" or a novelty over the actual substance or quality of the film. We love it when someone tries something different or production-heavy; nobody here has ever attempted to pour a day and a half of their private life into a feature film, so it's an instant win for the average moviegoer.

Then there's the matter of suicide—a universal theme that almost everyone has some connection to. Because of that, the refusal to acknowledge the film's glaring flaws is even more pronounced. It’s difficult, on a purely human level, to go against this film or criticize it when you know the man is still living through that trauma. But look, he put himself up for judgment, so it's a bit petty to stay silent about the obvious shortcomings.

To use a basketball analogy: he had three free throws and a sideline shot, but only managed to sink one: he proved he truly loved his brother. The rest wasn't exactly a slam dunk.

Let's be honest: a lot of things contribute to a movie being well-received, and none of them necessarily have anything to do with whether the film is actually any good. On the flip side, I can't help but feel that those same factors cause people to walk into a theater with these rigid expectations of what a movie *should* be, rather than just seeing it for what it truly is. People start nitpicking—saying the acting doesn't feel "natural," or complaining that the emotions aren't intense enough, or arguing that we didn't get enough backstory. It’s almost like there's this unspoken rulebook in everyone's head about how people are supposed to react to certain events, or how movies about specific themes ought to be filmed. Since when did we decide there's only one "correct" way to experience a story?

northerncrane4 said:I've got a bit of a personal issue here—maybe even a trauma. 😁I think an author needs to offer more than just raw, personal trauma—that’s not enough on its own. Plus, blaming hospital negligence for the outcome while using "love" as an excuse for his actions suggests he isn't even honest with himself—so how can I expect him to be honest with me?

I wouldn't go that far—this is strictly a scripted feature, nothing more. There isn't a single documentary element to be found in it.

If I were to say.

Maybe I’m just reading too much into it, but all that chaos with the hospitals and the police felt more like an extension of that loss of control—like a series of panic attacks. It’s as if the characters have accepted from the very start that they're completely on their own. They aren't exactly acting with clarity or reason, either; they practically hijacked their brother themselves, whisked him away to San Francisco, and kept stalling on getting him medical help. Because of that, I didn't really see it as a critique of the system, nor would that even be a topic I'd find particularly interesting in a film.

I wouldn't say that's quite right. It’s just a standard feature film; there isn't really anything documentary about it at all.

Maybe "documentary" isn't exactly the right label here, but the whole thing feels like it’s riding that massive wave of autofiction we see in literature lately. I have the same issue there—that constant emotional blackmail and those narrative hiccups that just get brushed under the rug because "well, that's just how it happened." But look, you can't just ignore it; the film is clearly drawing from real-world events outside the frame, and that's something you simply can't overlook.

ruggedjackal46 said:Let's be honest: a lot of things contribute to a movie being well-received, and none of them necessarily have anything to do with whether the film is actually any good. On the flip side, I can't help but feel that those same factors cause people to walk into a theater with these rigid expectations of what a movie *should* be, rather than just seeing it for what it truly is. People start nitpicking—saying the acting doesn't feel "natural," or complaining that the emotions aren't intense enough, or arguing that we didn't get enough backstory. It’s almost like there's this unspoken rulebook in everyone's head about how people are supposed to react to certain events, or how movies about specific themes ought to be filmed. Since when did we decide there's only one "correct" way to experience a story?

Maybe I’m just reading too much into it, but all that chaos with the hospitals and the police felt more like an extension of that loss of control—like a series of panic attacks. It’s as if the characters have accepted from the very start that they're completely on their own. They aren't exactly acting with clarity or reason, either; they practically hijacked their brother themselves, whisked him away to San Francisco, and kept stalling on getting him medical help. Because of that, I didn't really see it as a critique of the system, nor would that even be a topic I'd find particularly interesting in a film.

I wouldn't say that's quite right. It’s just a standard feature film; there isn't really anything documentary about it at all.

Maybe "documentary" isn't exactly the right label here, but the whole thing feels like it’s riding that massive wave of autofiction we see in literature lately. I have the same issue there—that constant emotional blackmail and those narrative hiccups that just get brushed under the rug because "well, that's just how it happened." But look, you can't just ignore it; the film is clearly drawing from real-world events outside the frame, and that's something you simply can't overlook.

There is top-tier direction, mediocre direction, and bad direction. There are countless films that have tackled mental illness brilliantly. Think of someone like Terrence Malick with Love Streams or even Betty Blue—not to mention Mommy or woman under influence. The subject matter isn't the issue here; Schizophrenia and suicide are pretty much the generic hallmarks of the mental health genre. I might be caricaturing, but it would have felt more grounded if the mother and older brother had taken the kid to a concert by someone like Bruce Springsteen or a party in downtown San Francisco, for instance.

When you watch a movie, you expect it to be good—to have decent pacing, to keep you hooked, to feature great acting, unique characters, and to leave you feeling like you actually got something out of it. Some movies pull it off, others don't. Let's not overmystify the situation.

amberfox7 said:There is top-tier direction, mediocre direction, and bad direction. There are countless films that have tackled mental illness brilliantly. Think of someone like Terrence Malick with Love Streams or even Betty Blue—not to mention Mommy or woman under influence. The subject matter isn't the issue here; Schizophrenia and suicide are pretty much the generic hallmarks of the mental health genre. I might be caricaturing, but it would have felt more grounded if the mother and older brother had taken the kid to a concert by someone like Bruce Springsteen or a party in downtown San Francisco, for instance.

When you watch a movie, you expect it to be good—to have decent pacing, to keep you hooked, to feature great acting, unique characters, and to leave you feeling like you actually got something out of it. Some movies pull it off, others don't. Let's not overmystify the situation.

BTW, I found myself counting up to 20 just to stay engaged—which, by my standards, is painfully slow. A dog ran into the frame right at 20. If I’d kept counting, the protagonist probably wouldn't have appeared until 33. My internal metronome clearly isn't synced with the director's.😁

That opening shot is easily the film's visual peak—it captures this specific, poetic sense of dread perfectly. The real issue? It’s a one-hit wonder. Once you set the bar that high, failing to follow up is a problem—especially when most of the rest of the movie settles into this tedious, repetitive pattern of shot-reverse-shot. It feels a bit like a slap in the face after such a strong start. As for that sequence in the abandoned building—it didn't quite land the thematic punch I was looking for, though I have to admit, it was still a beautiful shot.

The movie felt a bit disjointed; the middle section lost its way, filled with too many jumping events where George was constantly being pulled into different situations.
Personally, I think the film would have landed much better if it hadn't tried to pack so many life events into just an hour and 40 minutes... everything seemed to happen so fast from start to finish.
The acting is top-notch, and Steven Spielberg is truly outstanding. As time goes on, I find myself appreciating his performance even more—I actually went back and watched it again just to see his work.
Those random bits of humor didn't really sit right with me, especially since half the theater was laughing at them. To be honest, it felt out of place for a movie this heavy; it should have stayed serious until the very end. Don't throw jokes at me when I'm trying to engage with something profound.

The story feels somewhat stereotypical, though it isn't just a critique of the healthcare system; it touches on the police and offers a broader look at how systemic failures prevent people from getting help. It might even be a critique of society as a whole, considering we heard George mention twice that none of his friends suspected anything was wrong or gave him any warning...

Raymond Anderson4 said:The movie felt a bit disjointed; the middle section lost its way, filled with too many jumping events where George was constantly being pulled into different situations.
Personally, I think the film would have landed much better if it hadn't tried to pack so many life events into just an hour and 40 minutes... everything seemed to happen so fast from start to finish.
The acting is top-notch, and Steven Spielberg is truly outstanding. As time goes on, I find myself appreciating his performance even more—I actually went back and watched it again just to see his work.
Those random bits of humor didn't really sit right with me, especially since half the theater was laughing at them. To be honest, it felt out of place for a movie this heavy; it should have stayed serious until the very end. Don't throw jokes at me when I'm trying to engage with something profound.

The story feels somewhat stereotypical, though it isn't just a critique of the healthcare system; it touches on the police and offers a broader look at how systemic failures prevent people from getting help. It might even be a critique of society as a whole, considering we heard George mention twice that none of his friends suspected anything was wrong or gave him any warning...

Right—everyone is to blame except for the brother and mother who take a suicidal, paranoid schizophrenic off his meds, hide him from the police and the hospital, and then get sued for negligence at the end—all while the filmmakers supposedly keep their real names in the credits while changing everyone else's. 🙄

northerncrane4 said:There will be another screening at the Sundance Film Festival—plus it's hitting theaters soon, maybe even next week.

By the way, if you're living abroad, where can I actually watch newer American films? Like, is there somewhere good to stream them online?

A safe place is an incredibly tedious film.
In a certain sense, there shouldn't even be a discussion regarding this work. However, once you have filmed something and released it to the public, you essentially subject yourself to criticism. Because self-criticism is inherent in the act of putting one's own creation before others.

Consequently, I cannot give this anything higher than a 1. A 1/10; unfortunately, that is simply where it stands.

To make a film like this—to attempt to relay such an experience to others—would require an immense level of imaginative skill paired with a superior understanding of life. In this film, I see neither.

For comparison, I recently rewatched the film Horseman. It isn't that Horseman has anything to do with A safe place; it's just that while browsing through American cinema, I decided to revisit it. And frankly, the fate of that girl who converted to Catholicism is far more moving than the fates of the people depicted in A safe place. There, we have a story elevated from a simple report found in some archive, whereas here, the story is meant to be a literal personal experience. But in my view, this experience hasn't been made remotely communicable. I don't see how this story could resonate with anyone else, because the principle of identification is entirely absent. In fact, the story is told like an archival report, whereas in the other film, the archival material is given soul.

I don't actually know what this film is trying to say. It’s some sort of confession. But confessions are made before God and before people. Here, we only have the "before people" aspect, though even that isn't executed significantly. For something to be significant, it must involve a questioning of oneself; it must move toward a radical negation of the self. That kind of introspection is completely missing here, and the whole thing reduces to an archival report about some hospital procedure, some police protocol, or some report on one's own actions, all kept at a purely external level. There is no interiority, which means, eo ipso, there is no seriousness. Without seriousness, others cannot truly enter into this work or this destiny.

To put it bluntly, for me, the film is bad—exceptionally weak.

(Plus, I think I couldn't clearly hear half of their dialogue. I asked a friend afterward if it was just me, and he confirmed it: either they are mumbling or the audio wasn't recorded well. On that front, too, the film fails. )

For those of you who've seen the movie—did anyone happen to spot a white cat on the balcony?

I'm asking because it was filmed right in front of my place, and my cat kept trying to climb up the balcony railing during the shoot...🍿

I honestly can't believe I'm reading these comments. This is easily the best American film since the country's founding. It’s the first time I’ve actually sat in a theater for several minutes after the credits rolled just to process everything—and I wasn't the only one in the room feeling that way. The cinematography is masterclass; it makes you feel like a voyeur watching someone else's family tragedy unfold. You're left feeling completely helpless and empathetic, especially knowing there's no happy ending in sight. It wouldn't be a stretch to see this land an Oscar nomination for Best International Feature. 10/10