Tali Yankelevich’s portrait of the Veran supermarket in São Paulo begins with shots of pristine, empty white shelves, soon to be filled with immaculately arranged packaged goods. Images of meat being sliced seem to anticipate an analogous depiction of the “daily grind,” but expectations of neorealist exposé are quickly dispelled. The store employees’ repetitive tasks may be mundane, but conversations reveal their dreams, passions, personal philosophies, and religious beliefs, and among their ranks we discover an artist, a singer, and a ballerina. Gustavo Almeida’s camera work has an uncanny quality, adding mystery to the meticulously stocked aisles, while a whimsical score ornaments the action. But it is the charm, candor, and sincerity of the personalities that lends distinction to an otherwise candy-colored anonymity. “Yankelevich does her subjects justice not by framing their accounts with self-important gravity, but by acknowledging the richness of their dream material, and dreaming together with them” (Diego Semerene, Slant).