If you asked me what one of the hardest things about moving from Sydney to Melbourne is, having to miss the Sydney Film Festival would be pretty high on that list for me. So, when the opportunity came my way to review a screener for the festival, I predictably jumped at it.

I was particularly intrigued by 100 Sunset, which was described as a ‘noir-ish drama’ and was a prize-winner at TIFF (Toronto International Film Festival). Few things hook me into a film faster than shaky camcorder footage. In 100 Sunset, it immediately creates a sense of intimacy and nostalgia that feels perfectly suited to its quiet portrait of displacement.

In her directorial debut, Kunsang Kyiron captures a wonderful world of the Tibetan diaspora living in Toronto in the building 100 Sunset. Here, the quiet and mundane lives of immigrant families unfold against the backdrop of one of the busiest cities in the world.

Our protagonist Kunsel is a bored kleptomaniac who lives with her uncle, feeling out of place in a new country. She does not have any friends as most of those around her are older, besides a child she babysits. Then, a newly married couple arrives. The wife, Passang, is considerably younger than her husband and seems to have lost affection for him. Her arrival somewhat disrupts the monotony of Kunsel’s life and the two form an unlikely friendship. Both women appear stuck in circumstances they do not quite know how to escape, and their growing closeness introduces a subtle queer undercurrent to the film.

Their friendship develops quickly and quietly, as they venture across the gorgeous Ontarian landscape together, with the camcorder serving as a window into each other’s souls. The film is quite grounded and ultra-realistic in its approach, and that same attention to everyday life extends to the community around them. It brings to the forefront the communal practice of money loaning, something so pervasive in immigrant cultures, and uses it to show the delicate ways obligation, dependence and intimacy become intertwined.

The voyeuristic camerawork complements this sense of observation. The film has some of the most unique shots framing I have seen— the way snow, trains and the surrounding landscape are used as transitions and to undercut tension is truly appreciable. The cinematography is breathtaking in the way it makes the city feel both expansive, and strangely isolating, all at the same time.

Unfortunately, I wanted to like this film a lot more than I did. Despite its brilliant sense of haptic vision, the characterisation, particularly of Kunsel, remains rather one-dimensional. The film attempts to humanise her kleptomania, but she never feels as layered as the story seems to suggest she is. There are clever metaphors, callbacks and relevant themes, but the screenplay still misses the mark when it comes to fully holding your attention and gripping you. I never felt the film was completely committed to being one thing, but rather it drifts between different ideas without fully anchoring itself in any one of them.

Still, I am very excited to see where Kyiron’s career goes. Her ability to tell a story that can permeate from right within the community is rather interesting. And, if nothing else, 100 Sunset is still a gorgeous ode to Toronto’s natural beauty, capturing the city and its surroundings with lingering beauty.