This film was told, unflinchingly, from the viewpoint of a photographer who became close to a group of women and who then became even closer and more attached to their children. That you choose to focus on her attempt to get one boy his passport, which took up, maybe, twenty minutes of a two hour documentary is myopic to the point of blindness. Her difficulties, as another poster has already said, were documented as a way to highlight a dysfunctional, corrupt system.

Of course the film has it’s flaws, but everything can be nitpicked. What I found most wrenching about this film was the simple rendering of children being children. They were the same as kids in Paris and London and New York. They laughed and they found joy in little things and they were waiting to be awed. They laughed hilariously at things only children find funny. They found ways to be happy, even growing up in squalor most of us can’t even begin to conceive of. And that, I think, is the true beauty of this film. It’s not about the filmmaker; it’s about these kids who laugh when there’s nothing to laugh about and who reach and struggle for the sun until the will for it is totally stammped out of them.

Most of us cannot conceive of this life. It’s a bummer if we don’t have a cell phone or cable tv, but there are millions upon millions of children who struggle to find fresh water. We could all do with a good dose of empathy when considering those less fortunate than us. A good dose of feminism wouldn’t hurt, either. A well educated, well informed populace will make better decisions than a populace that blindly follows.