Motorskallen Review of Little Indian, Big City

Little Indian, Big City (1994)

A feral kid in the big city. Just a movie to you. Not to me.

[10/10 · 13 July 2005]

I was born in the Swedish capital. When I was two years old, I was taken out to the Swedish country side. I grew up there, and didn't give a *beep* about the school, my friends or my family. I spent all the time in the forests and around the rivers and lakes. My best friend was my Border Collie, given to me when I was three. I was literarely raised by dogs. When I was thirteen I had to learn to live in a city when my Dad got himself a better job. When I was fourteen I watched this film on the Centrumbions 50th anniversary. The audience laughed. I cried. People looked at me and laughed even more, because a fourteen years old crying at a comedy for kids isn't a common sight. I cried because this wasn't a comedy to me, this is dead serious. Now, six years later, I still cry when I watch this film. Because it reminds of myself. But I've also learned something throughout the years. And that is to laugh. This is one of the greatest movies ever.