Anticipation can be one of the best or worst feelings. From anxiously awaiting the first day of school to a sleepover with new friends, kids are constantly growing out of their comfort zone. But as we get older, things have a tendency to settle down. We anticipate things on a schedule, like taxes and dentist appointments, and look forward to the latest release from our cache of favorite artists. There is comfort in this, but it can’t compare to the anticipation of something completely new-something like witnessing the genesis of the next great film auteur.

At 31, Cary Fukunaga is the writer/director behind Sin Nombre, a film about Central American immigrants fighting to make it through Mexico and eventually to the U.S. border. Fukunaga has already won awards for best directing and cinematography at Sundance this year, an explosive start for this new director’s first feature film. But beyond the awards, this film impresses the audience with a strong cinematic voice.

Thematically, Sin Nombre is similar to City of God. Both films follow two main characters on opposite ends of life in extreme poverty. For Sin Nombre, those characters are Sayra and Casper. Sayra, played by Paulina Gaitan, is a young woman from Guatemala who anxiously agrees to accompany her father on his return trip to America after he is deported. Parallel to this is the story of Casper, a gang member of El Mara, a large and very real Los Angeles based gang that has spread throughout Central America.

Eventually, the two characters meet atop a cargo train, which immigrants use to cross Mexico and get to the U.S border. Much more than a simple thug, Casper is thoughtful and intricate. Attribute his authenticity to the casting and direction. Casper is Edgar Flores’ first ever role. Fukunaga made efforts to cast regionally and hit the jackpot with this non-actor. Flores’ introverted sadness sets the tone for the film. Characters are frequently surrounded within the frame by trains, trees and buildings. Instinctively this would signify a feeling of being trapped, but with the acting this conveys more discomfort. The beset upon bodies turn inward as if in a fetal position searching for some solace amidst a cruel world.

The great thing about Sin Nombre is that despite being about immigrants, and despite the characters all experiencing loss, the film is never cumbersome or overbearing. Fukunaga takes pains to tone down the Telenovela tradition and get authentic, dramatic performances out of his cast. Something he would not have been able to do had he not lived among the immigrants and gang members, heard their stories and rode the train for three weeks alongside them. The audience gets the sense that the story is not only true, but the whole truth. That doesn’t mean that Sin Nombre tries to explain the entire issue of immigration-it is very specific to the characters’ personal drama and relationships-but rather that nothing is left out. Atop the train as night falls, a listless Casper drifts into sleep only to be thwacked awake by a passing tree branch. Scenes like this give the impression that Fukunaga had everything mapped out.

Possibly the largest element of that voice is the thoughtful visual style of Sin Nombre. Fukunaga had been a cinematographer before he was ever a director, and consciously crafts each image on screen. Each shot is a brush stroke in the characters’ self portraits. The first shot is striking and beautiful, telling a story of yearning for something better and of dissatisfaction with the harsh reality surrounding Casper.

The camera is pensive and nonintrusive. It not only captures the struggles of the characters, but takes the audience on the journey alongside them. Fukunaga succeeds not only in telling this particular story, but in setting himself up as the next great director. And before anyone can lump him in with the old favorites, there has to be a moment of anticipation at the realization that the world is still turning-that new things are constantly emerging and that no matter how hard we try, our lives are never fixed in place.