The Milk of Sorrow

Llosa, daughter of the author Mario Vargas Llosa, employs symbolism so overwrought, her material might well have been better served as a text-even given the film's abundant visual virtues (particularly its spectacular use of landscape).

The metaphors are so crystal-clear and the story unfolds at such a deliberate, often infuriatingly slow pace that the impact of the drama is muted.

"The Milk of Sorrow" is constrained by a rarefied screenplay and a near-mute central performance.

Claudia Llosa, the director and co-writer, favors wide shots and long takes, which lend an air of realism to the beautifully shot allegory.

The Milk Of Sorrow is about a country dealing with old wounds and old divisions, and it's about how sometimes it can be easier to cling to pain than to move past it.

Trauma is buried and rarely alluded to in this quiet slice of magical realism -- but there's no denying the pain when it comes.

Llosa, in only her second feature, reveals a maturity and confidence of a more experienced filmmaker.

Ultimately it feels underdeveloped, done in by its own latent impenetrability, doggedly holding its audience at arms length.

Some people have to be so brave just to live a normal life. What makes The Milk of Sorrow special is that, without being overbearing or explicit, Fausta's struggles to do just that can be seen as a metaphor for the struggles of Peru itself.

Ably gives voice to a period in history almost completely invisible to the world at large.