Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 21/3/2013)

Charles Kinnane's The Human Experience is a case in point. Having been raised in a home in New York City, Clifford and Jeffrey Azize are acutely aware of how lucky they have been. They may have lost their mother and have not seen their father in a decade, but they have been well looked after and educated. It speaks volumes for them, therefore, that they should want to see how those less fortunate cope with their hardships. So, they set themselves three tasks in order to experience other people's lifestyles in the hope of gaining a better insight into their own personalities and society at large.

Despite the clumsy insertion of scenes from Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life (1946), the opening segment packs something of a punch. Opting to live on the streets for a week in the depths of winter, Clifford and Jeffrey quickly come to understand the discomfort, humiliation and danger of sleeping rough. They are given a crash course in how to assemble a cardboard shelter and quickly come to appreciate the warmth and welcome of a food kitchen. Yet, while some of the testimony given by the homeless folks they meet has power and poignancy, the lads themselves struggle to articulate what they have learnt from their ordeal. Indeed, the platitudinous nature of their well-meaning observations is thrown into further relief by Kinnane's decision to intercut monochrome pensées by the likes of Dr William B. Hurlbut; Rabbi Simon Jacobson; Anna Halpine, the Reverend Richard Neuhaus and Martin Luther King's niece, Dr Alveda King.

These interjections seem even more misguidedly intrusive during the trip to Peru to hook up with the members of Surf for the Cause, who strive to do a little good in between riding the waves. Initially cut to resemble an MTV advert for its coverage of spring break, this episode exposes the flaws in the film's rationale, as while Clifford and Jeffrey get to play with some children with a range physical disabilities in an institution in the foothills of the Andes, it's hard to see what purpose the visit achieves outside providing some remarkable little souls with a bit of basis human contact. Sadly, the same is also true of the expedition to Ghana with friends Michael Campo and Matthew Sanchez to meet some AIDS victims and the residents of a leper colony. Once again, the very presence of these affable outsiders will doubtlessly have brought cheer. But it's hard to avoid the feeling that this is tantamount to pity tourism and the notion that the Azizes are the real subject of the movie is reinforced by the tagging on of a reality-style happy ending in which Jeffrey reunites with the father who had once abused him and now craves forgiveness and a second chance.

While Kinnane pads out the running time with archive material depicting a range of worthies and historical landmarks, first-timers Jasper Kain and Matthew Kay demonstrate a greater understanding of the benefits of brevity in Over the Wall, which follows the University of London's School of Oriental and African Studies football team on a tour of the Middle East arranged by Football Beyond Borders, a body that seeks to exploit the universality of the beautiful game to promote political, social and cultural awareness. Once again, the motives for the trip are unimpeachable and the members of the multinational squad seem to have their hearts and heads in the right place. However, the focus falls more often on the personality clashes between the players than any worthwhile discussion of the political crises causing their disputes. Consequently, while the fortitude of the team and the camera crew has to be applauded, this always feels more like a home movie than a dissertation on either the Arab Spring or the Israeli-Palestinian situation.

Following a caption containing Albert Camus's claim `all that I know surely about morality and the obligations of man, I owe to football', the action gets off to a rather breathless start as Kain and Kay attempt to introduce as many of the team as possible without really placing them in any meaningful socio-political context. Thus, it isn't readily apparent who believes what and why when they arrive in Egypt and start arguing about the merits of going to Tahrir Square to see the site of the protest on 25 January 2011 that fatally undermined the long-standing regime of Hosni Mubarak. As it happens, some of the squad find themselves caught up in an increasingly angry confrontation outside the Israeli embassy. Yet, despite the significance of this incident, it merits less screen time than the in-fighting that follows a heavy defeat in an ill-tempered match against the elite American University in Cairo.  

Any differences seem to have been forgotten by the time the team ventures into one of the city's biggest slums and their interaction with the kids who are delighted to see them is touching in the extreme. But, once again Kain and Kay settle for soundbites rather than any in-depth insight, even though it is apparent that some of the players are being slowly politicised by what they are witnessing. Even a heated debate about the wisdom of entering Gaza turns more on ego and faction than informed opinion or analysis and it is perhaps a mercy that the decision was taken out of the team's hands by the Israeli government closing the border.

On discovering it is still possible to get into the West Bank, the squad heads across country and one or two players get first-hand experience of the humiliations to which so many Palestinians are subjected on a daily basis by the Israeli Defence Force. However, the full complement makes it past the frontier and a visit to a barbershop to hear more harrowing evidence of the reality of living under occupation is followed by games in the Balata refugee camp and the national stadium. As the fixtures coincide with Palestine's application to the United Nations for statehood, the SOAS presence is particularly appreciated, especially when the majority of the side voice their support for the campaign.

Dismayed by the sight of Israeli settlements nestling in the hills above the West Bank and the hideous immensity of the security wall, the players return home sadder and wiser to the news that the UN bid had failed and that little will change in the foreseeable future in a place where children on both sides are indoctrinated with pernicious propaganda and each new atrocity makes the positions more entrenched and tragic. Just for a brief moment, some footballers made things better for a tiny few and that is a blessing in itself. But Kain and Kay lack the experience to know what to film and when and, as a consequence, they only manage to tell a fraction of the potentially compelling story that was happening before their very eyes.

No doubt they will do better next time. However, they could learn a few lessons from David Fine, whose Salaam Dunk also explores the link between sport and politics. The remit of any human rights film festival is to bring injustice to the attention of the largest possible audience. But it does no harm to screen the odd good news story and this engaging actuality reveals how a college basketball team has come to symbolise a slow shift in attitudes towards women in post-Saddam Iraq. Following the mixed-ethnic and multi-religious squad from the American University of Iraq Sulaimaniya during its five-game season, Fine discovers the importance of competition to twentysomethings who had rarely been allowed to express themselves before. However, he also conveys the relaxed atmosphere of a city in the Kurdish region that seems a million miles away from the ongoing political tensions in Baghdad.

The AUIS women's basketball team failed to win a single game in its first season. However, founding coach Ryan, an American graduate teaching abroad for a couple of years before returning to complete his studies, is determined to ensure his charges learn that playing is a joy in itself. Under the management of Safa (one of a handful of girls to opt for traditional head covering) and the captaincy of Laylan, things quickly begin to improve, with the opening match against Karbala University only being lost by a single point (21-20) with the final shot. But Dlo, Enji, Jwan, Mariem, Beyan, Sally, Kirwan and Dashne find themselves doing extra training drills after they succumb 17-29 to the well-appointed Gizing Club, while Ola is forced to drop out in order to concentrate on her work after being placed on probation for her poor grades.

She is as thrilled as anyone, however, when AUIS secures its first-ever victory in a 24-19 triumph over Medes School that even has the team's male supporters escorting the team bus in a noisy victory procession. However, reality sets in after a 2-68 thrashing by the Sirwan Club and the season ends disappointingly with a 19-52 reverse against the San Harib Club on a road trip to Dohuk. But AUIS Chancellor Dr Josh Mitchell, Director of Student Affairs Dashnye Daloye, Dean of Students Denise Natali and even Dr Barham Saleh, the head of the Kurdistan Regional Government, back the initiative to the hilt and commend the efforts of Coach Ryan and his devoted team, whose tears on his departure are touchingly heartfelt.

However, this is much more than a record of a stuttering season. By allowing some of the girls to keep video diaries, Fine also discovers the trials that many have survived in order to even make it onto the court. Laylan witnessed air raids on Baghdad, while Safa lost both her father and her brother and she still has to take care of her younger siblings so that her mother can pursue her political career. She is also a key member of the AUIS debating team and her eloquence and commitment suggest the next generation of young women will be able to make a major contribution to Iraqi life - providing they are afforded the opportunity.

Although he includes some vox pops about female participation in sports, Fine doesn't pry too deeply into the potential problems of being educated at an American-sponsored university or into the emotional bonds that some of the squad clearly form with the affable, but always respectful Ryan. But he and cinematographer San Saravan splendidly capture the effort and excitement of the games, as well as the vivacious personalities of teammates whose mutual affection is readily evident and whose ambition to make a difference to their country fills one with cautious hope for the future.  

By contrast, Mark Cousins's The First Movie is an affecting treatise on the healing power of cinema. Playfully titled to recall Dennis Hopper's 1971 cult epic, The Last Movie, this is an ambitious attempt to see the world through the eyes of the children of Goptapa, a village in the Kurdish region of northern Iraq that suffered grievously during the 1988 Anfal launched by Saddam Hussein. However, the recurring and often florid voice-over emphasises the televisual feel, while also occasionally deflecting attention from the picture's real stars.

Raised in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, Cousins found film a source of escapism and strength and this conviction was reinforced during a visit to Sarajevo in the early 1990s to show movies to the besieged citizens in an underground venue. The concept of introducing young minds to film is laudable and the joy experienced by the children on viewing Astrid Henning-Jensen's Palle Alone in the World (1949), Mohammad-Ali Talebi's The Boot (1992) Francesco Stefani's The Singing Ringing Tree (1957) and Steven Spielberg's ET: The Extra Terrestrial (1982) is inspirational. The same sense of innocent enjoyment is beautifully captured in a sequence depicting them playing with some balloons.

But the heart of the documentary lies in the short films made by the children themselves with the digital video cameras that Cousins provided. There are scenes of larking around and showing off, by boys and girls alike. But, as their confidence grew, the likes of Mushta, Falla and Mohammed began to produce more personal items, with Falla filming the menfolk ending their Ramadan fast and interviewing those who remembered the piteous gas attacks that killed so many members of their families. But it's Mohammed's simple study of a friend playing in an irrigation channel - which Cousins called The Boy and the Mud - that proves most poignant, as the voice-over describes the practical wish of being able to build a house out of the mud and the magical notion of investing in it all the boy's hopes and dreams.

This moment alone justifies the entire enterprise and Cousins is entirely right to draw comparisons between this reverie realism and the work of such acclaimed Kurdish film-makers as Yilmaz Güney and Bahman Ghobadi. But his own film rather drifts into self-indulgence after the last-night screening, in which he shows the locals the children's shorts, the footage he has compiled and Albert Lamorisse's enchanting 1956 Oscar winner, The Red Balloon. But if the CGI animation accompanying Cousins's final musings before heading home and the fond letter he sends to Mohammed from Edinburgh are conspicuously poetic and a touch self-congratulatory, this is excusable in a project whose heart is entirely in the right place and which poignantly links a 15 year-old Belfast lad's love of movies with the newly awakened imaginations of youngsters who have discovered a world beyond war.

Following in the wake of Luigi Falorni's Heart of Fire (2008) and Jean-Stéphane Sauvaire's Johnny Mad Dog (2008), Kim Nguyen's War Witch marks something of a departure for a Quebecois director previously known for his debut period study of puppetry and prejudice Le Marais (2002), the sci-fi fantasy Truffe (2008) and the colonial pandemic saga, La Cité (2009). Submitted by Canada for the Best Foreign Film category at the Academy Awards, this is an uncompromising exposé of the miseries endured by African child soldiers. But, while Nguyen is anxious to makes his political points, he avoids overt displays of carnage and, thus, prompts the audience to focus on the impact that committing war crimes has on the children involved rather than the grotesque nature of the atrocities themselves.

When rebels attack her village in an unnamed central African republic, 12 year-old Rachel Mwanza is forced at gunpoint to kill her own parents, Alex Herabo and Starlette Mathata. She is then abducted and issued with an AK-47 rifle and informed by unit chief Mizinga Mwinga that this is her new protector. Terrified of being abused, Mwanza befriends albino Serge Kayinda, who is reputed to have magical powers and he introduces her to a tree sap that can induce hallucinatory states that take her mind off the traumas she has suffered and the exhaustion she feels after spending long hours digging for coltan, a blood mineral that lies at the heart of the civil war. .

One day, however, when Mwanza is scouting for a patrol through the forest, she is urged by the ghosts of Mahata and Herabo to be on the look out and, thus, she is able in time to thwart an ambush by the lurking government forces. Unit leader Mizinga Mwinga is impressed by her skills and proclaims her a `war witch' and awards her immunity from the whipping of the overseers at the mine. Nevertheless, when the opportunity arises to escape following another bloody skirmish, Mwanza and Kayinda disappear into the forest and find sanctuary with his butcher uncle Ralph Prosper.

After a prolonged search for a ritual white cockerel, Kayinda proposes to her and they are permitted a brief taste of normality. But Mwanza knows that their idyll cannot last and she soon finds herself pregnant and back under Mwinga's merciless protection. However, she refuses to be cowed by his cruelty and plans to return to her village so that she can restore peace to her family by burying her parents' remains.

Told as a flashback by a mother to her unborn child, the story ends on a note of vague optimism, as Mwanza hitches a ride on a truck taking her out of the war zone where she has spent her first 14 years. But such is the aura of docudramatic authenticity created by Nguyen and cinematographer Nicolas Bolduc that the closing sense of ambiguity will fill many viewers with as much trepidation as the earlier sequences of battle and brutality, which are made all the more chillingly real by their restraint and the wondrously natural performances of Mwanza and Kayinda.

British director Justin Chadwick explores the themes of education, donation and inspiration in The First Grader. But, despite his best intentions, he struggles to convince in recalling the efforts of Kenyan teacher Jane Obinchu to ensure that 84 year-old Kimani N'gan'ga Maruge secured the education to which he felt he was entitled. Based on events that took place at the Kapkenduiywo Primary School in Eldoret in 2003-04, this is an undeniably heart-warming story. But Ann Peacock's screenplay is too conscious of the need to leaven its history lessons with feel-good triumphs over adversity that owe as much to movies like Goodbye, Mr Chips (1939) and Dead Poets Society (1989) as real life.

In 2002, the Kenyan government announced that everyone was entitled to a free public education and the octogenarian Maruge (Oliver Litondo) astonished officials at his local school by showing up to enrol. Realising that he had spotted a loophole in the legislation, principal Obinchu (Naomie Harris) agreed to let him join her class of six year-olds, providing he didn't prove too much of a distraction. However, as Maruge was a Kikuyu who had participated in the Mau Mau Uprising, her enthusiasm isn't shared by her husband Charles (Tony Kgoroge), colleague Alfred (Alfred Munyua) or the education chief (John Sibi-Okumu) and Maruge is forced to travel to Nairobi to fight for his rights.

Interspersed with this crusade are flashbacks to the early 1950s, when the young Maruge (Lwanda Jawar) joined the rebellion against British colonial rule and was separated from his wife (Emily Njoki) and children when he was interned in an inhumane prison camp. But, just to make sure that the sense of injustice continues into the present, Peacock emphasises the fact that Obinchu is transferred to another school 300 miles away for daring to defy her boss, Kipruto (Vusi Kuene).

The sequence in which Obinchu bids farewell to her students is calculatingly lachrymose and this tendency to over-stress key emotional moments does much to dissipate the power of Maruge's story. Moreover, some of the incidents that spark flashbacks seem contrived and Chadwick and Peacock have often difficulty reconciling a brutal struggle for independence with a rather quaint insistence on a right that earned Maruge a place in the Guinness Book of Records as the world's oldest primary school student.

Litondo and Harris deliver equally commendable performances, even though he is a former TV news anchor and she is one of the stars of the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise. The local children playing Litondo's classmates are also splendid. But too many of the opponents to his inclusion are stereotypes, while each aspect of Maruge's plight feels over-simplified. Nevertheless, Chadwick and cinematographer Rob Hardy largely avoid idealised travelogue visuals and Alex Heffes's score manages to be authentic and uplifting without being patronising or corny.

Like Chadwick, Debs Gardner-Paterson occasionally succumbs to caricature and simplistic plotting in Africa United. However, this lively and ultimately touching road movie produced to coincide with the 2010 World Cup in South Africa laudably seeks to introduce younger viewers to some of the problems blighting the entire continent, from HIV/AIDS, poverty and corruption to tribal rivalries, child soldiering and the status of women and girls in patriarchal societies. In its determination to present Africa in a positive light, Rhidian Brook's screenplay is a touch naive in places. But this is an impossible film to dislike, as it is played with laudable spirit by a young cast of non-professionals and enlivened throughout by animated interludes illustrating a story told to pass the time and keep the travellers focused on their mission.

Orphan Eriya Ndayambaje lives in a Rwandan village with his studious sister Sanyu Joanita Kintu, who wishes to become a doctor and find a cure for AIDS. Despite his diminutive size, Ndayambaje is a chirpy fellow who is renowned for making wonderful footballs out of condoms, carrier bags and string. When he learns that talented players are needed for the opening ceremony of the World Cup, he is confident that middle-class pal Roger Nsengiyumva has the skills to be selected. However, his over-protective mother refuses to let him go to the trials in Kigali and Ndayambaje persuades him to sneak out early one morning and take the bus to the capital to seal his place.

Having smuggled themselves on board by posing as part of a large family, Ndayambaje, Kintu and Nsengiyumva chat happily with their fellow passengers. However, they are aghast when they discover they have fetched up in the Democratic Republic of Congo and that the Dream Team trials are taking place hundreds of miles away in the national stadium in Kinshasa. The stranded trio are billeted in a refugee camp, where they make the acquaintance of former boy soldier Yves Dusenge, who informs them that they have to escape that night or they will be abducted by a press gang seeking new recruits. Stealing a jeep, they head across country and only just manage to evade their pursuers, who seem very interested in Dusenge and the bag he is clutching.

Forced to walk when the vehicle runs out of petrol, the kids come across an abandoned railway carriage and are all set to spend the night there when they find a wild animal living in the next compartment. As they flee, Ndayambaje tells his companions that Dusenge's bag is full of banknotes. But it also contains a gun and he threatens to use it when his former comrades-in-arms make a last attempt to return him and the loot to their commander. No sooner is this problem solved than Nsengiyumva's mother starts texting him and, after a blazing row in the middle of Lake Tanganyika, he hurls his phone into the water and fixes his gaze on Burundi.

On landing, the foursome are chased away by the white owner of a beachside holiday villa. But they are invited to stay when Dusenge flashes his cash and the boss orders sex worker Sherrie Silver to serve them drinks. As they lounge by the pool, Ndayambaje launches into a story about how a young hero once acquired the three key components required for a homemade football. But, during the night, the owner steals Dusenge's bag and throws the kids out of the resort. However, Silver manages to snatch it back and joins the little band heading south on a mango boat destined for Zambia. While Silver explains how she landed in her predicament by running away from an arranged marriage, Dusenge surprises Nsengiyumva by tossing his gun over the side and insisting they will be better off without it.

Funds are running low, however, and Ndayambaje persuades them to donate blood at a rural medical centre. Silver is nervous, as the rules require them to take an AIDS test. But they all seem to pass with flying colours and Ndayambaje proudly brandishes a wad of notes. Unfortunately, he is tricked into exchanging the Zambian kwacha for worthless Zimbabwean dollars and he is furious with himself for letting everybody down as the notes drift along the Zambesi and over the precipice of a waterfall. His humiliation brings about a sudden decline in his health and the others realise when he is rushed to hospital that he is not only suffering from tuberculosis, but that he is also HIV+.

While she waits for her brother to regain his strength, Kintu wanders into the nearby school where one of the teachers notices her potential. She is offered a place to study and decides to stay. But Ndayambaje is bent on getting Nsengiyumva to Soccer City and challenges the obstreperous border guards at the Beithbridge checkpoint to a penalty shoot-out to secure their transit into South Africa. He is perilously weak by the time they arrive in Johannesburg, however, and has to be rushed to the medical room inside the stadium. Fortunately, the FIFA representative recognises Nsengiyumva and he is added to the Dream Team as Ndayambaje summons sufficient strength to finish his story about the ball that God had given to Africa before he walks along the tunnel towards a bright light, carrying the briefcase that he has never once let out of his sight.

At times, the kids emerge unscathed from the closest of shaves like characters in a Children's Film Foundation adventure. But once one becomes accustomed to this Blytonesque attitude to danger, the 3000 miles fly by and the debuting Gardner-Paterson deserves credit for making the denouement feel more inspirational than mawkish. Her handling of the young cast is also admirable, with Eriya Ndayambaje particularly standing out with his perpetual confidence in both himself and his friends reinforcing the underlying Pan-African message. Older viewers may not be convinced, but what this lacks in depth, it more than makes up for in integrity and only the hardest-hearted will remain unmoved.

Completing the African line-up is Maria Luisa Gambale and Gloria Bremer's Sarabah, an hour-long profile of Senegalese singer and women's rights activist Sister Fa, who became the first female to make her name on Dakar's notoriously competitive hip hop scene. Rap also plays a key role in Agostino Imondi and Dietmar Ratsch's Neukölln Unlimited, which follows the fortunes of an exiled Lebanese family in one of the most vibrant and cosmopolitan districts of Berlin. Employing monochrome comic-style animation by Benjamin Kniebe and Julia Dufek to depict past events, this is an unflinching exposé of the prejudice and injustice that the Akkouch clan have faced over the past two decades. But too many sequences seem stage-managed for this to convince entirely and it tends to be events that happen outside the film-makers' control that provide the keenest insights into the migrant experience and modern German attitudes to race.

Single mother Ronjos Skeikei has lived in Germany for much of the last 15 years. On the night she was deported, she had an epileptic fit and was accused of play acting by the arresting cops. She has since made her way back into the country and, considering the limited opportunities to work and restrictions on benefit payments, is making a decent job of raising her children Lial, Hassan, Katr, Mohammed, Maradona and Nourhan. Well aware that they have to start pulling their weight to ensure the household's weekly income meets the levels required to secure a residency permit, 19 year-old Lial and 18 year-old Hassan meet with an asylum consultants to plan a budget and investigate ways in which they can earn some steady money.

Despite still being at school, Hassan is a gifted street dancer and gets to perform with the Fanatix troupe at the famous Wintergarten theatre in Berlin and the Palais de Chaillot in Paris. He also makes a few extra euros rapping against the Israeli occupation of Palestine, while Lial is part of a two-girl singing group when not working as an events supervisor at a neighbourhood boxing gym. But, while they struggle to make ends meet, 14 year-old Maradona makes such an impression with his break-dancing that he is selected for the popular Supertalent show.

Although he enjoys tinkering with the cars he washes for pocket money, Maradona cannot concentrate at school and is frequently suspended. Moreover, when he is eliminated from the programme (he thinks unfairly because one of the judges took against him), he starts acting like an Arab macho man and going on demonstrations with various militant groups. Acutely aware that he lacks a male role model, Hassan tries to talk to him when he is caught carrying a blackjack in class and explains that if he fails to get his diploma he will become a prime candidate for deportation.

But Maradona's mood scarcely improves when he is beaten in a battle of the dancers contest in Cologne. However, even though Hassan and Lial have to admit to their counsellor that they have failed to meet the targets she set them, the Fanatix come first in a major dance competition and a closing caption informs us that Hassan is now making a good living dancing with different groups around Europe. By contrast, Lial was forced to put her showbiz hopes on hold while she completed her vocational training in event management, while Maradona seems to have settled down and continues to dance while planning to become a mechanic. Yet, for all their efforts, the kids were unable to convince the authorities to grant the family residency and they remain among the 102,000 people awaiting a dreaded knock on the door, even though over half of them have lived in Germany for over six years. A closing note claims that around 8000 individuals are deported each year, even though many have German-born children who know nothing of the lands to which they have been forcibly returned.

It will stagger many that kids as evidently committed to their homeland as Hassan and Lial face the prospect of being sent back to Lebanon. Their dynamism and determination to succeed would surely put many natives to shame. But Imondi and Ratsch refuse to focus solely on the points favouring the Akkouches being granted leave to remain and Maradona's disaffection is perhaps more compelling than his siblings' enterprise. Yet the nagging suspicion that too many sequences feel contrived consistently threatens to undermine this otherwise slick and well-intentioned study.  

Finally, the darker side of the New Europe's underground economy is considered by Bulgarian documentarist Mimi Chakarova, who takes a sombre look at the cost of male urges in The Price of Sex, which sees her cross Eastern Europe to understand why seemingly civilised males are prepared to pay for fleeting encounters with women they know to be exploited by pimps who care nothing about their rights, health or dignity. Yet for all Chakarova's intrepidity in putting herself at risk to get her story, this works best when concentrating on the testimony of the courageous women willing to recall their often harrowing experiences on camera.

Besides returning to the town of Kyustendil in Western Bulgaria, where she lived until her mother took her 11 year-old daughter to the United States, Chakarova meets five women whose lives have been ruined by the sex trade. Vika took what she thought was a waitressing job in Dubai and became pregnant with her first client. Her price doubled, as clients between 12-83 paid for her services, but she had to leave her daughter behind on being deported and she has not seen her since. Moldovan farm girl Jenya thought she had landed a dream job in Moscow, but ended up in Turkey, where she was forced to keep working after becoming paralysed from the waist down in an attempt to jump from her third storey room. When her sister came to rescue her, she was coerced into prostituting herself for a month to pay Jenya's debts and Chakarova is worried that local girls like 12 year-old Katarina will learn nothing from such traumatic tales, as the desire to get away from their rural backwater is as strong as the temptation of quick cash and perceived glamour.

Alessia is from Trans-Dniester, on the border between Ukraine and Moldova, and she now lives in a village that has largely been depopulated of young people, as they have left to seek fame and fortune. But she is just grateful to be home with her mother and young son and she laments that traffickers get away with their crimes as so many impoverished parents are unconcerned about the fate of their offspring, as they are simply relieved to not have to pay for their upkeep. Indeed, Erina would rather stay and work in Athens than return home to Bulgaria with Chakarova, as her life is so much better in the Greek capital. 

Aurica was sold to a Turkish pimp at 18 and she found herself having to tend to the Istanbul cops patrolling the red light district of Aksaray. Appalled by such abuse of power, Chakarova asks her friend Mike to put her in touch with some of the men who prowl these soulless streets and club owner Erhan introduces her to an ex-pimp and a couple of policeman, who boast openly of their conquests both on their own patch and on sex tour holidays.

Such damning testimony is reinforced by encounters with Ana Revenko, who launched the La Strada agency for trafficked women, and Niki Roubani, who runs a shelter for runaways in Athens, as well as crusading Moldovan lawyer Ion Vizdoga, Greek police chief Georgios Vanikiotis and doctor Konstadis Kampourakis. But Chakarova feels the need to experience things first hand and drives through Aksaray at night before disguising herself as a prostitute to gain access to a seedy club. Considering the risk involved and the quality of the footage captured of the crowded bar and the women's washroom, this has more stunt than investigative value. Instead, she might have delved deeper into the economic causes of sexual slavery and the mentality of the johns who perpetuate it. But Chakarova cannot be faulted for her courage and tenacity in pursuing those who seemingly exploit women with impunity.