Adrian Caetano's immediate, intimate film of a Bolivian immigrant in Argentina could serve as a model for those seeking to revive the shoulder-cam realism of John Cassavetes, with a masterfully politicized strength of scale worthy of Rob Nilsson or the Dogma collective. The Bolivian Freddy is living proof that illegal aliens are treated like dirt anywhere, anytime, stuck as he is washing dishes and rousting drunks in a Buenos Aires diner in between lonely phone calls to his family back home. Dealing with a parade of customers anxious to insult anything non-Argentinean, and in particular, Bolivians-even the announcers on the radio weigh in-Freddy finds a sort of companionship in his boss, the generally affable, casually racist Don Enrique (played by the film's sole professional actor), and with the Paraguayan waitress Rosa, the cafe's other resident immigrant. Bolivia uses the space of one cafe to sketch an entire nation's tensions, and captures the melancholy of all those who seek a better life beyond their own borders.