They trained in a small Hungarian studio amongst rats and garbage. Something bereft of pretense and somehow filled with hope brought them to that place, and kept them there day after day, hour after hour as their individual stories became a common vision, but not common in the sense we have seen it before because we haven’t. It is ostensibly a simple and familiar story of love and a tragic death. We have seen that part before, but not how it is told this time and that is the genius. The telling is so pure, so compelling, so deeply moving that our mouths open without words, our eyes well and we FEEL an overwhelming inadequecy that we individually are so incapable of producing something so beautiful and pride in equal measure that someone, like us, can.