I really enjoyed this film, which I watched on Netflix, despite the crude cinematography (there are about ten long sequences of people's backs as they walk through parks, housing developments, streets, woods). Small children aren't allowed to act for more than five minutes at a time in the U.S. (child labor laws, though I'm probably exaggerating) and watching this baby acquire language among poor but delightful people was simply charming. But beware that the film is its own pleasure in the Zen sense, and I feel that that was a bad decision. A dark fear hangs over it and the viewer is owed an ending. We go through a lot with these people and find out more about the 14-year-old son and how he reacted to the divorce at the end -- but the film wasn't about him. Why don't we learn who the toddler's mother was and why she left? Come on. Show that you can finish a story.
Review of Little Girl
