Vic (Chris Galust) is a young man working as a medical transport driver, who is in charge of retrieving various patients from their homes and taking them to various places, such as the hospital or their places of work. On one particular day, he isn’t able to do his job as intended, mainly because everything seems to be going wrong – there are enormous riots in Milwaukee that immediately force him to run late, and the added burden of his senile grandfather nearly burning their apartment building down due to his attempts to cook. Vic also has to deal with various patients that are not making his efforts any easier, particularly Tracey (Lauren “Lolo” Spencer), a young wheelchair-bound woman who doesn’t let her position stop her from openly criticizing the man sent to drive her, and which she sees as being completely incompetent, not understanding that his failures on this particular day are not solely his fault, but the result of a series of inconveniences, especially his attempts to transport a group of his grandfather’s friends to a funeral of a recently-deceased compatriot, and nothing is able to ruin the day of a young man trying to do his job than a bus full of elderly Russians making a cacophony of poorly-executed religious songs. Vic is normally someone able to control the situation and not allow his temper to take over, but this particular day turns out to be a real challenge for the young man, who seems to be holding onto the last bit of sanity that he possibly can – only to have it almost completely eviscerated by the chaos occurring around him.

Give Me Liberty is a powerful film, and it truly lives up to the enormous aspirations of its title. Caught somewhere between outrageous comedy and bleak social drama, it’s a daring foray into the life of a young man trying to hold everything together in the midst of a nervous breakdown wrought not by a sense of existential despair, but the forces of misfortune occurring throughout an ordinary day, one that is not supposed to be any different from all the previous ones. Yet, from the outset, we already know (as Vic soon realizes) that not everything is what it seems. Director Kirill Mikhanovsky has made one of the year’s most fascinating dark comedies, a deeply sentimental character study that isn’t afraid to plunge into truly unsettling territory as a way of looking at the daily trials and tribulations of a young man trying so desperately to stay afloat when everything is trying to force him under. Independent cinema often is used as a short-hand for a smaller budget realizing enormous ideas, and this is certainly true of Give Me Liberty, which takes a relatively simple premise (and one normally associated with broad comedy), and infuses it was a lot of underlying meaning, so much to the point where the film is able to captivate on the deep anxieties and deep anger that plague society, looking at large issues without ever trying to position it as something it could never be. A very funny comedy about extremely serious issues, Mikhanovsky has made a poignant piece of social commentary in Give Me Liberty, and one that truly is one of the most unexpectedly powerful films of the year.

What makes this such a memorable film is how fundamentally human it is, and how Mikhanovsky demonstrates such clear compassion towards society, the kind that most films of this nature tend to avoid. However, this doesn’t imply that he presents it in a way that is all that innocuous – Give Me Liberty is a darkly comical social odyssey that is both hilarious and incredibly unsettling, especially when the intentions behind this story, composed of many misadventures, starts to become clear. The film takes on some very serious issues, looking at one man who insists on help absolutely everyone, even when they don’t necessarily deserve his time, and when he may not have the facilities or capabilities to help them in the way they would like. It was already setting itself up to be something special from the opening scenes, where we see Vic go about his day in a state of sedate panic, trying to get everything under control, only narrowly avoiding chaos. The main portion of the film takes place within a single day, as we follow his routine, watching as he slowly loses his grip on reality, descending into complete anarchy as everything that can go wrong does go wrong. Mikhanovsky develops on the idea done in many films that look at the events over the course of a very short amount of time, and manipulates it to his favour, allowing him to take on the “slice of life” comedy common in these kinds of films, but also infusing it with some deep cultural commentary that would have otherwise been missing had we not felt the claustrophobic despair this film slowly but surely reveals itself to be based on.

In this regard, Give Me Liberty takes the form of a deft balancing act between comedy and drama, with the director managing to capture the outrageous hilarity of the story, as well as the existential angst present in the modern generation. It isn’t overwrought, even at its most chaotic – the centrepiece of the film is a final climactic scene which sees the characters at a protest, with Mikhanovsky creating a sense of deeply unsettling fear that feels almost insatiably palpable. The use of very eccentric characters, especially in the context of those peripheral to the lead, and quirky situations is not only there to incite laughter (which it does frequently – one just needs to recall the scene where the motley crew of elderly Russians finally makes it to the funeral, and begin an elaborate traditional song-and-dance routine, only to realize they’re dancing for the entirely wrong person, to know how this is a film that wanted to make us laugh at the most ridiculous moments) but also evoke thought. The comedy is not so much a crutch as it is a shroud for the discomfort underlying the film, and how manages to underpin the very funny storyline with something a bit more grounded. It’s a risky approach, but one that pays off considerably, as Give Me Liberty is a masterful amalgamation not only of genres but of the conventions contained within them. Rarely has a comedy ever dared to go to such dark places thematically, in the same way that few films with this subject matter have ever been so enduringly funny without becoming dismissive. The way the director moulds expectations to suit his intentions and style is remarkable and is one of the most significant merits of this already fantastic film.

There are two broad themes overriding the film. The first, and the more specific, is that of individuality. The two central characters in this film are all remarkably independent – they would like to think they have attained the liberty that the title suggests. However, if we look deeper into their behaviour, we can see this isn’t the case. Vic, played by Chris Galust, is an aimless young man whose intentions are pure, but the ability to realize them into something tangible still requiring much work. Give Me Liberty is often simply looking at the perils of trying to please everyone, while entirely neglecting yourself. The day on which this film takes place is one that sees Vic thinking that he has the freedom to make his own decisions, only to realize that he’s surrendered far too much of himself to those around him – he’s bound by his family, his job, his commitments and his general generosity that means he sometimes loses sight of what it means to be himself. Tracey, on the other hand, sees herself as being fiercely independent, a quality that she believes she can overcome, despite being quite literally bound to be dependent on others – suffering from ALS, she is confined to a wheelchair, and thus has to rely, at least temporarily, on others in some parts of her life that able-bodied people take for granted. Galust and Spencer are extraordinary in bringing these characters to life – when presented with the temptation of excess, they avoid it, rather delivering mesmerizing leading performances that are on the opposite ends of the spectrum (Galust has the more reserved role, while Spencer is bolder), but are equally as compelling. A variety of other small but memorable performances scattered throughout the film only adds to this beautiful tapestry of human life, and enrich it far more than films like this tend to do, never losing sight of the humanity that inspired it.

The second theme the film explores is broader and is far more obvious considering the storyline – the American Dream, a subject that has definitely not gone unexplored in cinema. The film situates itself from the perspective of a young man in conflict – he’s a first-generation Russian-American and is therefore not only caught in between different cultures but different generations. The immigrant experience is something that Give Me Liberty is actively exploring, albeit from the viewpoint of someone who is only able to experience through his family. The film is really concerned with looking at the intersections between cultures, which has been something the director has not wavered from in his previous work, with the film serving to form an unofficial trilogy with Mikhanovsky’s previous two efforts, Sonhos de Peixe, which was centred on rural Brazil, and Gabriel and the Mountain, which focused on a voyage of discovery to Kenya. The film is set in suburban Wisconsin, but yet the majority of the dialogue is in Russian, with Mikhanovsky boldly refusing to lose the authenticity that comes with making a deeply American story that’s told in a completely different language (Lulu Wang did something quite similar in The Farewell, another melancholy tale of cross-cultural conflict from this year), which makes it even more convincing, especially because the entire film is concerned with the difference between cultures and generations. The United States of America is a land of over 370 million stories – it only makes sense that a few of them are not told in English. Cultural representation is something the isn’t always easy to execute with such precision, but in exploring it with the delicacy that most films would appropriate in an effort to appear more socially-cohesive, Give Me Liberty truly lives up to its very bold title, which appropriately resounds with cries of freedom – but it’s where this freedom is explored in the context of this film that tends to make all the difference.

Give Me Liberty is more than just a “day in the life” film – it’s a beautifully-conscious exploration of the human spirit, delivered by someone who brings it to life with such astounding precision, it never feels inauthentic, even when the director is exploring something that may not be entirely relatable to all viewers. The film looks at the conflict between different groups, whether in terms of nationality, race, age or abilities and despite often showing the differences that exist between them, focuses on uniting them under one riveting portrayal of modern existence. Give Me Liberty is a hypnotizing approach to everyday life, inspired by the gritty, documentary-style realism that has often been omnipotent in independent film, delivered by a filmmaker who takes the intrepid step to defy conventions and run the risk of alienating his audience, which turns out to be a worthless fear, as the result is a magnificent social odyssey that feels both heartfelt and caustic, which makes it all the more enthralling. Mikhanovsky proves himself to be someone who needs to be valued more than he has already because his work here is so extraordinary. He has crafted a hopeful film that is not bound, but rather soars, as a result of its wonderful humanity. It’s a compassionate portrait of modern America, showing that even when individuals may be divided between different cultures, generations or any other social strata, we’re all essentially the same in our pursuit of some sense of belonging. Evocative, funny and heartwarming, even at its most serious, Give Me Liberty is an incredible work, and one of the year’s most underpraised gems.