It’s no surprise that Ramin Bahrani’s upcoming TIFF selection Goodbye Solo (not to be confused with the Korean TV show) is getting a lot of buzz.

A few years ago, Bahrani’s Man Push Cart made a big splash around film circuits. The story of a former Pakistani rock star who sells coffee from his push cart on the streets of Manhattan, the film was praised as some sort of second coming of American Indie Cinema though it seems those actual words were saved for Bahrani’s third feature Chop Shop.

Ebert referred to it as “an independent film that is miraculous” and Ioncinema has called Bahrani “hands down one of the more interesting voices in American Independent cinema” and for apparent good reason. I recently had the opportunity to see Chop Shop and was blown away.

Shot in a neo-realist style, the film captures the day-to-day life of an ambitious young boy living on the outskirts of Queens. A story of perseverance, dreams and ambition, the film’s downbeat story is sad yet optimistic while never jumping into melodrama. One of the most impressive things of Bahrani and Bahareh Azimi‘s script is that it sets up scenes which could have followed into much more dramatic outcomes but the writers chose to take the road less traveled and in an odd way, by taking the less dramatic approach, the film removes itself that much further from the majority of indie films that concern themselves with cramming the most amount of drama into the least amount of time. One such moment that comes to mind is Ale’s choice of a hiding place for his stash of money. I never quite understood why he felt the need to remove it from his room and hide it in public other than to assume the story would shift with the tin being stolen but Azimi and Bahrani avoid the expected and the result is an equally fulfilling development and the feeling that this is exactly what we can expect from a boy of 12: the occasional irrational action.

There are instances when Bahrani’s film seems to take a page from David Gordon Green. There are small moments in time, which seem to be captured almost by accident but that are left in for no apparent reason. One such instance is this scene of the garage owner and his dog. Others, like the moments leading up to scene in question, build atmosphere and immerse the film in New York and namely, the Latino culture which inhabits every crevice of this story.

At other moments, the film seems eerily reminiscent of Charles Burnett’s Killer of Sheep; equally pensive and it too captures the harsh realities of life that have both good and bad moments but it is both film’s unbiased storytelling approach that really ties them together. Neither filmmaker feels the need to bring attention to or linger on the tough moments; they’re simply taken as they come.

Chop Shop’s ending is gorgeous. Some may find it abrupt but the film ends as it begins, in medias res, and it’s instantly clear that we’ve only seen a portion of a life that was there before we came along and that will continue once we’re gone; one life amidst many others. We never learn the story of Ale’s friend Carlos who appears to be in a similar situation and it’s not necessary to know the details; by virtue of the surroundings and story, we know the essence of Carlos’ life. Yet, regardless of the hardships of the situation and the bleakness of the story, the film ends on an optimistic note: reconciliation and hope on both Ale and his sister’s face. Beautiful.

Chop Shop is currently available for purchase or rental on DVD.

Trailer