Own the rights?
Just by virtue of time and place this is an interesting application of downtrodden coming-of-age material, but you're really straining to get an awful lot out of it - you come away with moments like the listening to the refugee update on the radio; the immediacy of memories of loss and suffering (but not foregrounded here); the thwarted destinies (the man who calls himself a banker but actually works at plucking chickens). Most striking is how tranquil and apparently well rooted the country is even at this frail point in its history - the kids playing on the streets; the local gossip as banal and mundane as if it had been there for ever, and there's the real beauty of it I guess - that it's a real homeland from the outset; like Aviya, inherently worthy and capable of deep poetry but stumbling to find the full flowering of its identity. Still, a minor movie - minimal and unshowy both in its style and themes.
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