A first disappointment was that from the description available from the film festival, I (and a lot of other people in the auditorium) thought that we were taken on a lone journey through the American west. Well, it turned out to be Poland instead, but that was really the first and last thing that happened during the next 86 minutes. Endlessly long takes and faces without emotions followed. If the directors aim was to show less motion in a movie than staring at a picture for 1 ½ hours, he succeeded, and there is no irony in my saying so. But if he wanted to express something, he should go back to Sergio Leone, Clint Eastwood and Michael Schorr (Schultze gets the Blues) and see how they did it.
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