Dardenne Brothers

You can smell it on the street: the girls getting stoned at closing time at the Eileen Fisher store on Fillmore.

The scene's being written for a new film by The Dardenne Brothers: a struggling minimum wage clerk in a woman's fashion shop in San Francisco, getting high with two of her co-workers, neither of whom need the income as she does but who've taken the job as a lark and who have high-content marijuana.

She allows herself a toke, starts giggling. She hasn't felt this good in years, so she takes another toke. It's after hours, the door's locked, no one will know.

It's then that her boss walks in – a heavyset man in his early 60s. He owns stores all over the city, is legendary for his cutthroat business practices, his tactic of making surprise visits to the stores under his control to make sure the workers are really working. The joint's between her lips when he enters.

Now, when you get close to the thrilling conclusion you realize there's no thrilling conclusion. The working class is doomed, though not without moments of unexpected grace.