"Iska's Journey", directed by Csaba Bollok is a moody film set in a mining town of grimness so unrelenting even the grass seems grey. Iska, in her orange top, is a vivid spark of life, caring, independent and resourceful in contrast to her alcoholic mother and her mother's equally useless boyfriend.

The film opens with children scavenging for scrap metal, the relentless sound of the mining machinery, or possibly a train, in the background. The sound of engines — mining equipment, trains and ships — runs through the film, an audible underscoring of the inexorable fate that dooms Iska. The memory — or was it a dream? — of a childhood trip to the sea also haunts Iska's tale.

Too small to stand up to the scrap metal merchants who refuse to pay her a fair rate for the scrap she finds, Iska returns home with a bag of scavenged coal but no money. This infuriates Iska's abusive mother who also exploits her, as Iska's petty thievery nets her cigarettes and vodka. Escaping her mother's wrath and hard fists, Iska finds refuge in the miners' canteen where she is well known, and where she begs scraps of food from the miners who knew her father before his mining accident and departure for Spain.

Iska and her sister are picked up by Iacob whom the children associate with the disappearance of another child. They are taken to a children's home, where they find some warmth and kindness provided by the doctor and matron. Iacob's presence, however, lends a sinister undercurrent to the children's treatment. A rather surreal scene shows Iacob teaching the children to swim by lying flat on benches in a muddy courtyard and practising the breaststroke. Periodically the boys are taken away, but never the girls — where they're taken, the children are never told.

After several days Iska's mother seems to realise her children are missing and comes looking for them. Despite the beatings, and the poverty, Iska misses her home and her mother, and willingly returns to the single-roomed hovel. The sister, ill with tuberculosis and therefore of no use to her mother, is left behind.

A friend from the children's home runs away to join Iska, and their exploits show that there is a normal society — farmer's market, hair salon, football match — on the fringes of Iska's reality. The two make a pact to hitch a ride on a train to the sea, but before she leaves, Iska travels to the children's home to say goodbye to her sister. She never makes her rendezvous with her friend, and her parallel journey to the sea is far less promising.

The cinematography provides an unflinching look at the grim reality of far too many children of Eastern Europe — grey, industrial landscapes, cold institutions, empty churches and predatory adults. The sparse dialogue adds to the surreal feeling of the film, as do the sudden scene shifts. Perhaps because the director has chosen to tell the story exclusively from Iska's point of view, he has omitted plot elements because Iska would not be aware of them.

For example, it's not clear whether the child taken from the home in a flashy car is adopted or trafficked. Iacob's role at the children's home is not clear, nor is his motive for picking up abandoned children. This creates a disturbing uncertainty, so that even apparent kindness seems suspicious. Hardly light entertainment, this film, which won the award at the Hungarian film festival is thought-provoking commentary on one of our world's most pernicious evils: the exploitation of the innocent.

Iksa's Journey will screen tomorrow at 6.30 p.m. at Liberty Theatre and Tuesday at 3.45 p.m. at Little Theatre.