A calm, doggily funny study of a young boy growing up in the suburbs of Copenhagen during WWII. In this child's eye view of war, there is scarcely a German to be seen, except for the odd embarrassed sentry, considered as fair game for mockery. RAF bombers fly overhead, eagerly watched because they drop mysterious strips of tinfoil, to be collected and hoarded away as treasures. Adults, huddled in corners muttering about the Gestapo, impinge chiefly as nuisances because they worry, they forbid excursions. There are airy fantasies of heroism ('Hello, Winston' begins his report to London, 'it's me'), and occasional nightmares in which his family is tortured to death. Mostly, though, he is too busy poring over dirty books and worrying about girls to think too much about the war. Beautifully shot on location in soft, naturalistic tones, with witty high-contrast lighting for the fantasy sequences, it's a strangely haunted and haunting film, all the more effective for its insouciant air of being miles removed from the realities of war.