I've always been an advocate of the kind of hybrid cinema that combines fiction and documentary forms, and am struck very much by how Oliveira has gone about doing this in a fresh way. Keeping the performers (who retain their first names) embedded in something like their real lives is a big part of this, as is the vaguely artless approach (I don't intend this as a slight). The film finds drama where few would look.
"Indie" cinema # 10: scattered realism. The apparent fictional ineffectiveness is contradicted by a serious and deep investment in realism, looking towards the spaces and the characters (in-becoming) with deep time, diluting it in a peaceful staging, apparently derivative. Brief musical sequences, edited in, remind that after all the world there is representation.
The formalism of the structure - the rigidity of the camera, the composition of the frames - is immersed in deep, genuine affection. This sets this film apart from your usual festival fare by miles - there's no anemic filmmaking here. And it did win me over.