Mónica is a single mother who is overwhelmed trying to look after her five children. In her poverty and loneliness she has no-one to turn to, and she clings daily to the irresponsible moment when she leaves them all in the hands of her eldest son, who is only five, and heads out onto the streets. She never gets any further than a bunch of dossers with whom she drinks and huffs inhalants, and while steeped in alcohol and drugs, she’s happy to listen to their vulgar compliments. But when Mónica gets home and discovers that the children have taken from her the only thing that provided at least some kind of substitute for the emotion and solace she lacks, her frustration reaches boiling point. She no longer cares about anything; she seals the fate of her offspring and closes the door on her life. Within a mere eighteen minutes, via a composition of long, mostly static shots, Victoria Franco expresses the inner debilitation that accompanies social exclusion with such a degree of veracity that it’s hard to believe these authentic scenes from “family life” are staged for the camera.