"Fill the Void"

Yes, I have seen it, and now I am heartily recommending it. While I am a real movie lover, I find myself often at a loss of how to express myself regarding them beyond "loved it," "hated it," or "eh, it was alright." Therefore, I will poach the words of film critic Marshall Fine: 

Shira is not an unwilling captive of some cult; she is an observant follower of a religious tradition, caught in the kind of interpersonal familial crisis that could happen anywhere in the world . . . 

Burshtein is patient with her actors, who give nuanced performances that avoid the kind of showy moments that too often dominate this kind of tale. In particular, young Hadas Aron conveys volumes without saying much. Similarly, Sheleg, as the mother, captures the heartbreak and sense of powerlessness without histrionics, making it that much more poignant.

Then Ella Taylor: 

Ambience is everything in this director's gorgeous scene-setting. There's nothing remotely monkish or drab about the lavish physicality and rich lighting that infuses a sexually modest subculture with sensual pleasure and — yes — romance. In one achingly lovely scene, Shira squeezes out her grief in the plaintive notes of an accordion as Yochay sways in a hammock, his baby slumbering peacefully on his chest.

Elsewhere a richly soulful Hebrew rendition of Psalm 137 ("If I forget thee, O Jerusalem ...") underscores the transformative power of communal ritual, whose central premise — act, and the feelings will follow — guides Shira toward a decision.

Since Shira is faced with a very adult choice—specifically marriage, and on top of that, a marriage to a brother-in-law—we sometimes forget that she is just 18. Her backing-and-forthing over the matter shows that she has been tossed suddenly from worry-free childhood into a difficult dilemma that only she can solve.

My companion couldn't understand Shira's dithering—maybe because Yochay is so dreamy, not only in looks but in his nature, the stereotypical girl's fantasy: A man in touch with his feelings. Yiftach Klein sobs spectacularly. 

Burshtein embellishes the power of silence; not only what is said, but the significance of what is not said. 

I also couldn't help tapping my foot to the familiar melodies sung around the Shabbos table and by simchas (plus Shira has an entertainingly diverse wardrobe of Shabbos robes).  
 

The theater was filled with, erm, octogenarians, but the youth should give it a try.