This movie gave me the same elated, lighter than air feelings as Chaplin's "City Lights." It was amazing to see the film never dodge a single important factor in all the sordid repercussions of the titular woman's misdeeds. At the same time, I never felt like I was being dragged through emotional hell just for some theoretical catharsis. At times the film reminded me of a less block-headed and ham-fisted version of "Fiddler on the Roof" (also no singing Jews). Lastly, and most beautifully, the film offers up a shining example of the benign influence of a strong, loving father. It makes you remember the sort of picture of God that a father is supposed to be.
Review of The Well-Digger's Daughter
