The Soul of Man

A titan of industry, his marrow calcified into ledgers and locomotive timetables, barters his last whisper of humanity for yet another continent to conquer; the cosmos answers with a Trojan horse—his own progeny—who slips the blade of betrayal between the ribs of empire. While the patriarch’s arteries pulse with the chill of bullion, a grandson still warm with the milk of idealism refuses to genuflect before the golden calf, and a blind musician—her sightlessness a sovereign kingdom—strums the old man’s calcified heart until it remembers the tremor of mercy. In the flicker of nitrate and candle-fire, the film stages a grand exorcism: vaults of coin are rendered weightless against the gravity of a single unguarded tear.