It appears to have been made from the inside, not only of the characters but of the historical situation in which they struggle.

Bolstered by a beautifully shaded performance by Karanovic as a woman attempting to escape the torments of her past while securing a future for her daughter, Zbanic's film begs a pretty complex question: Is a love story possible in the aftermath of torture and genocide? The answer appears to be a tentative yes, both on the levels of the film and filmmaking, but it isn't easy.

Zbanic, who lived through the Bosnian war in Sarajevo, is an unusual talent. Here, she makes us feel the hell her characters once lived through as well as the leftover, stinging pain of today.

This is a spare and plainly told story, and it is that plainness that gives it so much punch.

While excellent films like Danis Tanovic's Oscar-winning "No Man's Land" and Vinko Bresan's "Witnesses" have dealt with the war itself, few have dealt with the aftermath, and none with the aching power and empathy of Grbavica: The Land of My Dreams.

The admirable feminist agenda occasionally trips up the narrative, but the film's performances keep it on track.

A moving but flawed premiere feature.

Jasmila Zbanic's poignant drama reminds us that the aftershocks of war linger for generations.

Like its music, the film's emotions proceed from lament to screaming screed to chorus of hope.

Mirjana Karanovic (Esma) and Luna Mijovic (Sara) give powerful performances as Zbanic imbues a simple story with a powerful commentary on the Bosnian war's devastating impact on the innocent.

The dramatic conflicts are soapy and unsubtle, but Karanovic pours intense authority into Esma's scarred psyche.

Grbavica is a womanly movie in the best sense: Zbanic has a deeply feminine sense of how crisis gets filtered through the domesticity of daily life.

Zbanic's story of an ordinary life stained by extraordinary cruelty cuts deep.

The power of "Grbavica" is not the arc of its story line, but the fullness of the world Zbanic creates.