Mrs. J. is an unemployed widow suffering from a protracted bout of depression. She never leaves or cleans the overcrowded, prefab flat which she shares with her mother-in-law, her school-aged daughter, and an older daughter and her fiancé. Wholly indifferent to her surroundings, she is planning her suicide, which she intends carrying out on the anniversary of her husband’s death. There are only a few things she still has to sort out: returning a chair to her neighbour, cancelling her insurance policy, and arranging to have her photo placed on the tombstone. But none of these tasks is as simple as it seems. An acutely sarcastic portrait of a country's journey from socialism to capitalism – a place where it’s become impossible to live and impossible to die. The procedural account of the pilgrimage that, for Mrs. J., becomes a series of bureaucratic errands is reminiscent of the inwardly pressing atmosphere underlying the films of the Romanian New Wave. The insidious tone conveyed in the director’s script is transfigured in Mirjana Karanović’s at once understated and emotional performance into a weighty testimony about generations whose life ended with the political transformation of the state.