To the drone of television news from Iraq, we plunge into the life of Abu Ammar, a former mujahadeen soldier in Zarqa, Jordan. Prospects are bleak in this country's industrial second city, also hometown of al Qaeda leader Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. The Western media touched down here briefly as a result of the al-Zarqawi connection, to the confusion of former neighbors who remember him as unremarkable and not even religious. “Who would think that a man from this place would aggravate the whole world?” wonders Abu Ammar, whose own life is framed by the interior of his battered blue truck, as he and his sons scour the streets for cardboard to sell to recycling plants. When Abu Ammar discusses local conditions and world politics with neighbors, however, we learn he is not only insightful but an amateur Islamic scholar. Pressure builds as he tries to reconcile his faith, the needs of his family, and his suffocating environment. An attempt by Abu Ammar and a neighbor to sell used cars in Iraq meets with aggression by U.S. forces and Shiite militias. Meanwhile, he proves unable to get milk for his sick mother, and must perforce deny treats to his beloved youngest son. Filmmaker Mahmoud al Massad delves into the politics, piety, and poverty of his native city by painting a rare and intimate portrait. His camera lingers impressively on details of Abu Ammar's life-a sink illuminated by a bare bulb, the sacks of paper bulging with passages from his never-to-be-published book. Masterful use of color, meanwhile, suggests a combustible energy that lies beneath such quiet desperation, and propels fateful decisions.