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Three women – two teenagers and their mother – share an apartment – we don't know where or when. In permanent semi-darkness, at close quarters, they play out their repetitive, circular lives to the rhythm of the microwave oven. Reminiscent of Bergman's The Silence, Naïa Lassus elegantly and masterfully develops a tale of self-imposed isolation somewhere between everyday hysteria and a run-of-the-mill family sage. The film adopts just the right distance, neither melodramatic nor naturalist – a distance which owes much to Lassus's casting and concise directing. The film ends with a solar eclipse, the three women reconciled outdoors in a wheat field.