This allegory of three men from Oulad Lissa–a desolate snow-covered Berber village in the Atlas Mountains–who follow their dreams of a better life to cosmopolitan Casablanca, is a poignant, ultimately wrenching witness to the universal plight of the immigrant. As one character observes, “Very rarely is the life of an immigrant not stepped on.” Saïd, Ottman, and Ismail work in a café, whose owner refers to his employees as “riffraff” and believes “a man with no money is worthless.” Saïd is a devoted husband and father, but pregnant Aicha, left behind in their village, says, “Casablanca makes children orphans and wives widows.” Illiterate Aicha sends letters to Saïd through the village teacher; Saïd sends his heart through recorded messages. Ottman misses his magnificent left-behind Arabian stallion. A pair of expensive black leather boots obsesses Ismail, who fantasizes about the success they would bring him: respect, a wife, a home, even the ability to fly. Characters remind each other to pray to Allah, and that he will take care of all. But the systematic way in which everything goes wrong for these men rings of an existential, rather than a religious, reality. Each one gets what he thought he wanted, but with a Maupassant twist of fate. Asli's assured directorial debut displays a resonant story, strong performances, and a rich visual and aural sensibility. Interior village scenes utilize chiaroscuro lighting and Renaissance tableaux. And, like the narrative, the haunting North African soundtrack conveys both ancient melodies and contemporary pop.