Critically-acclaimed and deeply moving, Alan and Naomi tells a coming-of-age story that the Washington Post called “sweet” and “compelling.” It shares the powerful friendship that develops between a very unlikely pair while exploring what it meant to grow up in Jewish in America during the Second World War.

“When I woke up this morning,” Alan Silverman (Lukas Haas) tells Naomi Kirschenbaum (Vanessa Zaoui), “I thought…if anything that horrible would have happened to me I sure would hope that someone would give me a second chance.”

A young French refugee, Naomi hasn’t spoken since she watched the Nazis brutally murder her father. Now she’s found refuge with relatives in the U.S., but in order for her to recover from the emotional trauma, the doctor says she needs to learn to trust again. In the spirit of altruism, Alan’s mother volunteers him to pay regular visits to the troubled girl living next door in hopes of aiding in her recovery. As most twelve-year-old boys would do, Alan resists initially, but a friendship slowly blossom between Alan and Naomi that brings out the best in both of them. The tender coming-of-age story is a nostalgic but convincing look at Jewish America during the WW2 years that shows how a little compassion can change a life.

Set in Brooklyn during World War II, Alan and Naomi remembers a time when clothes lines hung out of windows, checkers games were played between old men on the corner stoop, and a pack of boys could overtake the street for their games of stickball. With a close eye on the aesthetic details of wartime America, the film recalls the beauty of greased saddle shoes and the fun of playing with model air planes.

But, in the midst of this charming atmosphere, an undercurrent of anti-Semitism boils and leaves no one–not even the children–untouched. Naomi’s life will never be the same because of the Nazis. Full of anxiety, she spends her time ripping paper and clinging to her doll with a vacant look in her eyes; and if anyone comes near her, other than her mother, she screams. By the same token, even Alan, who was raised in a sheltered and loving home, has been strongly affected by the fact that he’s Jewish—his only friend is the one boy in the neighborhood that has enough character to stick up for a Jewish kid.

Alan and Naomi realizes that it’s not easy to be kind, but challenging oneself to be a more generous has personal benefits. Alan spends much of his time feeling inadequate, but being with Naomi makes him feel clever and capable. Instead of focusing on his own shortcomings, Alan worries about his friend’s troubles; and, in making her feel better, he makes himself feel better.

In Naomi’s at-first-silent company, Alan becomes a comedian and a tough guy at the same time. “If Alan ever bothers you just come to me because I’m the roughest, toughest hombre in New York and I’m here to protect you and your doll,” Alan moves the mouth of his wooden cowboy doll as he tells Naomi. “If you don’t mind, we’ll just sit here and watch you tear paper. And if you need help, we’re expert rootin tootin paper rippers.” His sweetness not only endears him to Naomi, but viewers also can’t help but be charmed.

It takes Naomi a long time to come out of her shell, but eventually the little girl learns to relax and feel safe when she’s with Alan. With the help of his jokes, she learns to let go of her terror and neurosis. The simple moments they share laughing and playing remind her of life’s promises, giving her a second chance at happiness.

An inspiring story about empathy, gratitude and friendship, Alan and Naomi is the kind of film that will make you laugh and make you cry.