An introspective sociopolitical drama about a discarded Somalian, A Stray stars Captain Phillip’s Barkhard Abdirahman as Adan, a refugee living on the streets of Minneapolis who happens upon a lost dog. Without a home or hearth of his own, Adan is unable to provide for himself much less another helpless lot of God’s creations. Complicating the issue is the fact that Adan is a semi-devout Muslim, a religion that sees dogs – stray or not – as impure beasts, not meant for handling, much less ownership. What plays out is a somber reflection on religion and personal values, experienced through an eye-opening Third World lens.

Surrounded by what the FBI suspect to be a cast of radicalized countrymen, Adan’s path is confronted by the duality of bad influence and innate spirituality. After fleeing from the homestead of his somewhat Americanized ex-pat homies, Adan takes up shelter in a local mosque where he confronts his own convenient affiliation with his religion. With the blessing of the Imam, Adan serendipitously falls in with a man on the right side of the path after deciding to return, rather than steal, his wristwatch. The man offers him a job and a place to stay, a fortunate reaping that goes belly up faster than a shotgun wedding when Adan hits our titular stray with his new work vehicle. Forced into responsibility for the wounded animal, Adan sees no other option but to care for the contaminant until the shelter opens the next day. His new benefactor being a good Muslim, Adan gets the boot when he returns with “filthy animal” in arms.

A dilapidated pair, shaggy, unkempt and generally regarded as pests, Anad and his newfound mangy mutt must cling to each other to find in one another acceptance and, ultimately, a sense of inner peace. The parallels between the astray Adan and the stray are as obvious as their eventual kinship is inevitable but the film from director Musa Syeed‘s (who won the Audience Award and Alfred P. Sloan Feature Film Prize at the 2012 Sundance Film Festival for his feature Valley of Saints) does contains its share of arresting somatic subtlety. Further, A Stray gives us a view into the cog work of a cross section of society not typically made available for prying – the tight-knit Minneapolis Somali community.

In that capacity, A Stray successfully plants us in the midst of our own New World order. It provides a glimpse into a culture that’s too often misinterpreted by Fox News or misrepresented by religious zealots. Its success doesn’t depend on stirring performances or innovative directorial choices or crisp cinematography, though I would argue that there are shades of each of these in the makings of Syeed’s film. Rather, A Stray is akin to a foreign language film plucked from our own home country, one that provides insight into lifestyles and social pressures we may not have had our eyes open to. It strips back the curtains of cultural misappropriation, opening pathways for empathy for its unsuspecting audience along the way.

I wouldn’t argue that A Stray contains much in the way of true uniqueness, nor do the elements that make it up stand out as spectacular in any way but there is something special to this type of personal, sharing filmmaking – that which exposes the often unseen identity of its creators while simultaneously probing something of cultural import. The story of a man who comes upon his beast of burden and becomes weighed down with unwanted responsibility may not be novel but A Stray is accomplished with enough sensitivity and societal specificity to make for a meaningful filmic experience.

CONCLUSION: Musa Syeed’s flip-side American cultural journey revolves around a homeless Muslim man who unwittingly adopts a stray dog. Dramatically satisfying and offering a unique perspective on the American refugee scenario, ‘A Stray’ is no narrative game changer but threatens to jar open your heart and your mind.