Although Stratos is a contract killer, he is ultimately the only adult here who can be said to have anything like a good heart. Stratos is efficient at his job: he turns up, pulls the trigger once or twice and that's it. He doesn't talk much, neither at work nor in his tarnexistence as a bread factory hacker. Quite the opposite of the rest of those around him: here, everyone launches monologues at every available opportunity, the force of which presses you into your movie seat - words like bullets with which the other person is pulverized, even if it's actually about celebrating the other person.
Stratos (To Mikro Psari) shows Greece as a post-war world: everything lies in ruins, people are preoccupied with their survival, principles are there to be broken. Silence reigns in the public space - the word diarrhea always breaks out in zones of the private sphere or in socially ambivalent intermediate spaces such as gangster bars and prison consulting rooms, which thus become stages. But what is being played here? When Stratos finds the answer, he doesn't see red (he has long since lost the necessary illusions), but only sees to it that no harm comes to the last innocent in this real-life nightmare. Bildrausch favorite Yannis Economides once again proves himself to be the last European master of film noir.
