Truly, one of the most hardcore documentaries I've seen in a while with no contrived redemption ark; no performance when the camera is on - just point-and-shoot mastery.
Its subjects are as candid as they are conflicted. There is no shortage of drug addicts and necessitous individuals coming into this shop in Alberta to pawn everything from driver's licenses to stolen possessions, as owner and star of the film, David Woolfson, sits permanently fixed behind the counter, armed with disinterest and an unsympathetic alacrity for each soul who dares to beg before him.
Despite all of this, David somehow remains charming and charismatic throughout the entire film, even when talking down an addict from a $10.00 asking price for a gaming console to just $3.00, with this film being less of a plea for the integrity of pawnbrokers as it is an understanding of why they exist and the circumstances that lead to it.
Some might say this film is exploitative and distasteful, and they would certainly have an argument, but the least of those unaware of its exploitative nature is David Woolfson himself, as he and unpaid help, Chris Hoard, have nearly a "stream of consciousness" type of honesty on camera-surely a trait that any documentary filmmaker would froth at the mouth for in their subject(s).
The editing is bare, the budget is minimal, the topics are taboo, the shop is cluttered and disheveled, and it might be too much too handle for your average documentary viewer. That's why it's so great. It isn't for everyone, but for those willing to stick it out, they'll be asking for seconds.
8/10.
