Honestly, most movies about war veterans are exhausting. You know the drill: the brooding hero sits in a dark room, haunted by slow-motion explosions and generic trauma. It’s a trope that’s been done to death. But then there’s the Amira and Sam movie, a quiet 2015 indie that basically flipped the script by suggesting something radical: maybe the soldier is fine, and it’s the rest of us who are broken.
I recently rewatched it, and man, it hits differently now.
Directed by Sean Mullin—who’s an actual vet and 9/11 first responder—the film follows Sam (Martin Starr), a former Green Beret trying to navigate New York City in 2008. He meets Amira (Dina Shihabi), an Iraqi immigrant who’s living under the radar and selling bootleg DVDs. It sounds like the setup for a cheesy Hallmark flick, but it’s way more cynical and grounded than that.
The PTSD Trope Nobody Talks About
We’re so used to seeing veterans portrayed as ticking time bombs. Sam isn't that. He’s just... a guy. He wants to do stand-up comedy. He works as a security guard. He’s incredibly disciplined and has this dry, deadpan wit that Martin Starr (you probably know him from Silicon Valley or Party Down) plays to perfection.
What’s fascinating is that Mullin intentionally avoided the PTSD cliché. In interviews, he’s mentioned that he wanted to show a veteran who is actually the most well-adjusted person in the room. The "craziness" in the Amira and Sam movie doesn't come from Sam’s memories of Iraq; it comes from the pre-recession Wall Street greed and the casual Islamophobia of the people around him.
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Amira is equally complex. She’s not some "damsel in distress" looking for a green card. She’s sharp-tongued, skeptical, and wears a hijab with miniskirts—a deliberate choice by the filmmakers to show she doesn't fit into the "perfect" boxes people try to put her in.
Why the 2008 Setting Matters
The movie is set in the summer of 2008. If you remember that year, the world was about to catch fire financially. This isn't just background noise. Sam’s cousin, Charlie (played by Paul Wesley), is a hedge fund manager who tries to use Sam’s "war hero" status to bait wealthy veterans into shady investments.
It’s gross.
But it’s also a perfect mirror to how society often treats veterans: as props for marketing or political points rather than actual human beings. While Charlie is out here committing white-collar crimes, Amira is being hunted by the police for selling $5 DVDs. The irony isn't subtle, but it's effective.
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What Really Happens With Their Connection
They don’t fall in love because they’re "supposed" to. They’re thrown together when Amira has to hide out in Sam’s apartment to avoid deportation. It’s awkward. At first, she hates him because he represents the military that occupied her country and, in her mind, led to her brother's death.
But they bond over being outsiders. Sam doesn’t fit into the "thank you for your service" corporate culture of New York, and Amira doesn't fit into the legal or social structures of America.
One of the best scenes is just a long, unbroken shot of them in Sam's apartment. No flashy editing. No dramatic score. Just two people talking and realizing they actually like each other. It feels real. It feels human.
The Supporting Cast is... Kinda Hit or Miss
I’ll be honest: some of the side characters feel like caricatures. The Wall Street guys are almost cartoonishly villainous. There’s a scene at a party where people say some truly heinous things to Amira, and while it highlights the racism of the era, it feels a bit "on the nose" compared to the subtle chemistry between the leads.
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However, Laith Nakli as Bassam (Amira’s uncle) is excellent. He was Sam’s translator in Iraq, and his relationship with Sam provides the emotional anchor for the whole story. It’s a reminder that the bonds formed in war are often deeper than blood, even if they’re messy.
Actionable Insights for Fans of the Genre
If you’re looking to dive deeper into the themes of the Amira and Sam movie, or if you just want more grounded veteran stories, here’s how to approach it:
- Watch for the "Invisible" Veterans: Most vets aren't the guys in the news; they're the ones opening your doors or trying to start small businesses. The film captures this "invisible" transition perfectly.
- Check out Sean Mullin’s other work: Being a veteran himself, he brings a level of E-E-A-T (Experience, Expertise, Authoritativeness, and Trustworthiness) to the screen that Hollywood usually fakes.
- Research the Iraqi Translator Crisis: A big part of the movie's tension is Amira's status. Real-life Iraqi translators who helped the U.S. military often faced (and still face) massive hurdles getting SIVs (Special Immigrant Visas).
The movie ends on a bittersweet note that doesn't provide easy answers. It doesn't fix the immigration system, and it doesn't make Sam a millionaire. It just shows two people trying to find a tiny bit of peace in a loud, judgmental world.
If you haven't seen it yet, go find a copy. It’s one of those rare films that treats its audience—and its subjects—with actual respect.
To get the most out of your viewing, pay close attention to the stand-up comedy scenes. They aren't just for laughs; they’re Sam’s way of trying to find a voice in a society that only wants him to be a silent symbol of "bravery."
Next Step: You can find Amira & Sam streaming on several VOD platforms like Amazon Prime or Apple TV. If you’re interested in the reality of translators, look up the "No One Left Behind" organization, which works with real-life versions of Bassam.