What an excellent, sometimes heart-rending film. It's not a "coming of age" story of the stereotyped first sex or first violence type, rather, the 13-year-old protagonist learns how unfair and unhelpful adults can be, and finally works up enough courage to try to improve her situation on her own.

Lane 1974 reminds each of us who care about others that no matter how crappy our own childhood was, it could have been just as crappy in a totally different fashion. It's set only a few years after my own era, but the 1970s California hippie, doper, back-to-nature culture is complete foreign to me, other than in film. And yet it was so well acted, both by Lane and her mother - who prefers to be called "Hallelujah" - and so well written and directed, that I believed every minute of it.

Watching it hurts, of course. Seeing a child go hungry makes me appreciate even that nasty powdered milk from the welfare department. It hurts just enough: I'm amazed at the delicate editorial touch that kept the film real without descending into constant, unrelenting pathos.

The film ends abruptly, but at exactly the right time. Not all is well, but there is hope. Kudos to everyone involved.