When cinema directors are looking for heroes for their movies, things usually happen in an organized and carefully prepared way. This is not the case of Pawel Lozinski, who chooses to leave the "casting" to chance, greeting passers-by from his balcony and asking them about the meaning of life and what is most beautiful about it. From these encounters a delightful chronicle is woven, where the director seems to offer as much as he asks from the people he interviews – the voice behind the camera reveals both curiosity, as well as a vague embarrassment, the play between closeness and distance is nothing more that the filmmaker’s hesitation who, despite appearances to the contrary, stepped out of his comfort zone as well and participates in the movie unfolding in front of him in equal measure. And his mechanism is ridiculously simple: Lozinski neither leaves the perimeter of his own balcony, nor does he hide or try to play tricks on anyone. He and his camera are a relentless point of observation which arouses either amazement or suspiciousness, as well as an occasional awkwardness which we can all relate to. Most times, though, it arouses that certain thrill which only cinema is capable of: by capturing the unpredictability of life, the unrepeatable moment which is forever recorded on the camera’s memory. “The Balcony Movie” is the perfect demonstration that banality is an inexhaustible source of emotion, whether we meet a child on a scooter, or hear an old lady talking, with tears in her eyes, about her long-gone husband. (Andreea Chiper)