Lech Kowalski has gotten us used to movements for a long time now. Movements of the street, of punks, of fetishists, of his mother, of Polish farmers, of strikers: the list is long, it is the almost endless inventory of a demoted humanity. But is it a habit? Definitely not, more like the effect of a camera that remains untamed. And here we are, subjected to its kicks, its tricks, its rebellions, its rages, its heartfelt cries, we are blown away, and it exhilarates our souls. Once again, the idea is simple: to remake An American in Paris. One small point though, this time the American will be a Native American, sporting a baseball cap with the slogan “Native pride” on it; and Paris will be the rough areas along the roads of the capital, busy with homeless people and migrants from all around the world.