A Lien

Squeezed into the car, caught up in New York City traffic, the situation immediately feel chaotic. There are lights and movement all around, voices shouting, horns honking; little Nina thrashes around in her booster seat in the back, managing to push one of her feet into the headrest of the passenger seat. Her parents, Sophia (Victoria Ratermanis) and Oscar (William Martinez) are trying keep their anxiety under control. They cannot be late for this meeting. We catch worried glances and reassuring gestures as the camera moves around in the cramped space, seeming equally ill at ease.

They are late, of course, especially after the additional delay caused by the dehumanising process of having to hand over their passports and other documents, but thankfully the first bureaucrat they have to deal with shows some sympathy. He won’t say as much, but he does let them proceed. Likewise, the woman conducting Oscar’s critical interview, the final one he needs in order to get his green card, has not lost her humanity. She goes through his application methodically. Everything seems to be in order. In the quiet of the interview room, this feels like a civilised, straightforward process.

Out in the waiting room, however, something is wrong. A collection of names is called out over the Tannoy. Oscar’s is among them. Obviously he can’t respond because he’s in the interview. Sophia keeps her head down, not wanting to draw attention to herself, but she watches the men who stand up and walk to the end of the room. She sees some of them put in handcuffs.

It is the beginning of a desperate struggle to save her husband or, at least, her child.

Filmmakers David and Sam Cutler-Kreuz were inspired to make this film after learning that US immigration agency ICE makes a habit of arresting people when they go for their green card interviews – even if they have done everything legally and are in fact entitled to be in the country, but just haven’t quite got those final documents signed. Now it has been shortlisted for an Oscar. What it has to say is important; but beyond that, it’s a film that deserves to be there on merit.

Ratermanis’ performance is visceral, the kind of work that will leave you feeling shaken to the core. Eli Cohn’s sound design is magnificent. The large concrete and glass spaces of the immigration centre echo constantly, filling it with noise but making it hard to pinpoint where the noise is coming from. At first this is mundane – fragments of conversation, ringtones and clicks, feet on hard surfaces – but it’s still unsettling, and as it builds up, any faith that the world might operate by fair or civilised rules falls away. The Cutler-Kreuzes take an experience that thousands of people have been through and make it personal and specific and terrifying.