Another masterpiece from the Dardenne brothers. The duo of directors once again beats Europe on the head with a sledgehammer of humanism. These African guys, Tori and Lokita, are singing cute songs in the restaurant, and so you order the focaccia that Tori loves so much, and you start to believe that everything around you is normal. But if you see a 17-year-old lame Lokita on the road out of town, you will still refuse to take them and their brother to the hospital. Because deep down, you realize that not everything in your union is good. What if these blacks are connected to some crime?
Of course they are, and in ways you never dreamed of. But these are not their personal problems, but the problems of your countries, where ideal conditions are created, right by European standards, for involving poor and frightened children from another continent in the reality that begins in the kitchen of your favorite cute restaurant. Tori is small, he still kind of plays, "hitting," as he says. But Lokita can no longer withstand the alienation imposed on her from herself. She can hardly be herself anywhere - not in the center of detention, not on the street, not in conversations with relatives from Africa. Because if she doesn't literally lie all the time, sell drugs and meekly endure violence, then she doesn't belong in your union at all. Isn't that where her panic attacks came from? Of course, she is only alone with Tori. But this is too complicated a reality for those who look at a person and see only his current function – “illegal”, “dealer”, “most likely a criminal”. And they do not see the person himself - they are not humanists of some kind, but also functions from a person.