Set against the pressures of 1990s Iraq, a child is selected by chance to supply a birthday cake for the nation’s ruler, an everyday ritual turned ultimatum. What follows is a delicate journey through scarcity: kitchens without sugar, markets emptied by sanctions, and classrooms where small privileges can be bartered for safety. The narrative, rooted in memories of growing up in the period, privileges the humane over the didactic. It looks closely at the quiet labour of families and neighbours, those who find ways to help without drawing attention, and those who say no when saying no is costly. Each small success, from a borrowed egg to a smuggled measure of flour, becomes a wager against consequence.

Shot entirely in Iraq, the sense of place is exacting: the marshes, city checkpoints, and modest shops function as living archives of an era rarely depicted on screen. Naturalistic performances, many from non-actors, are handled with restraint, and a subtle strand of fabulism allows a child’s imagination to coexist with the hard edges of authority. Rather than lecture, the film invites us to witness how love and friendship help a young mind navigate risk. In this world, tenderness is a form of courage, and the simple act of finishing a cake is less a celebration than a test of ingenuity and care.