Matafeo's awesome, impulsively approachable exhibition is center to the film's compelling acceptable naturedness: its soul, pluck, bob. You need to be her companion, and in a peculiar way you sense that you are her companion. She inclines toward you, welcomes you into her reality, doing as such in a way that appears to be practically ready to peruse the crowd's reactions progressively – like a loquacious seatmate on a plane, who can pass judgment on the disposition and is someone you really need to converse with.