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Every day Stavros raises the metal shutters of his cigarette store, puts out the newspapers in front and then sets out the chairs where he and his friends sit all day, looking out on the dusty intersection and surrounding grey buildings that shelter their businesses. Theyre all very proud of the way their dog Patriot, on the opposite pavement, barks at every passing Albanian. Stavros and his friends dont like these foreigners even if theyre willing to do the jobs the Greeks wont do, nor do they like the recently arrived Chinese. By the stores entrance, Stavros increasingly senile mother mopes in an armchair, regardless of the affectionate care lavished on her by her devoted son. Then one day she suddenly falls upon an Albanian worker, embracing him and calling him «my son» in Albanian. In fact, what does Stavros really know about his parents? His mother has always told him that after his father died up north, she moved to Athens, when he was but a year old. Now Stavros pals start looking askance at him is he Greek or Albanian? Does he really have the right to sing the racist little ditty «Albanian, Albanian, youll never become a Greek» In Akadimia Platonos, whose title derives from the district the film is set in, the original site of Platos famous academy, the director focuses on a bunch of lazy bigots with a humorous perspective that is, however, close to despair. The sky is hardly ever seen in what Filippos Tsitos camera chooses to show, never leaving these characters, revealing their failings. And yet, the rock songs that accompany the various protagonists point up the fact that they are connected, whatever their respective nationality, through a musical culture that transcends borders. Perhaps there is still wisdom to be found in the district of Platos Academy?