Ethnographic-oriented Christopher Quinn and Tommy Walker’s Sundance Grand Jury Prize and Audience Award God Grew Tired of Us is a true-life film that begins with outrageous happenings, then turns to others that might showcase this country’s generous heart but instead paint a sadness at our social core, and ends with family, roots and noble hopes despite all. That sadness is not judged and unexpected opportunities are appreciated; there is no justifiable hatred lingering from those cruel happenings, for these young men are Sudanese Dinka, and “it’s not in their nature; they are not judgmental.”

Pastoral Dinka form the largest ethnic group in the south of Africa’s largest country, an area of tribal beliefs and Christianity historically at odds with the light-skinned Muslim north (ancient Nubia). Following years of ugly strife romanticized in the West in Gordon and Khartoum, Britain pulled out fifty years ago, leaving coups and civil wars as the unceasing aftermath, kept ablaze by foreign interests not brought up in introductory explanations, e.g., Palestinian guerrilla and Libyan backing for the north. Diverting relief aid (primarily food) from the desperate south, in 1987 the Islamic government “announced to kill all male children in the south,” the genocidal starting point for the documentary.

Nicole Kidman’s minimal narration is effective but unnecessary, there for the name power like Brad Pitt’s as advertised co-executive producer; for the story is told by, and viewed through the eyes of, the three English-speaking (though subtitled) participants.

Against footage in a United Nations refugee settlement near the border and of the thousand-mile five-year -- “we can walk for 100 years”-- trail of tears of war orphans, first to Ethiopia and, with the fall of Addis Ababa in 1991, to Kakuma, Kenya, John Bul Dau (b. 1974), Daniel Abol Pach (1981) and Panther Bior (1979) talk of war, blighted childhood, death and dispersion of family units. Bombs, disease, starvation and hyenas had reduced the twenty-five thousand five-to-ten-year-old “Lost Boys” by more than half when they staggered half-dead into the camp already housing seventy-five thousand refugee countrymen.

Arrival proved only a beginning of ten years in the cinderblock town, during which outgoing popular Daniel formed a social club called “The Parliament” for storytelling, music and solace when “black days” were worst, surrogate “families” were formed, and basic elementary math, science and English taught. But where from here?

Close to four thousand of the young men were selected by an international committee for resettlement opportunity and further education in the United States, with airfare to be repaid the U.S. government when work was found. Running fingers along a posting location list, they are charmingly innocent, bravely humorous -- allowing “only one wife will really affect me”-- hopeful, and sad at leaving their de facto brothers. Flights to Nairobi, Brussels and on to JFK are seen through wide eyes, and the workings of electricity and appliances, garbage and recyclables, flush toilets and toilet paper, showers and running water, packaged food and meat called “frank” are patiently explained as the young men are sent in groups to simple garden apartments throughout the land, best friends Daniel and Panther to Pittsburgh, tall John to upstate New York, Syracuse.

Finding legal employment and in some cases schooling, they remain thankful and polite but -- partly because the camera focuses on them -- at a distance, or perhaps are held at arm’s length, from this new home and its traditions. Lonely in the midst of long hours at up to three jobs, they comment on the host society that is simply different and not dismissed for its lack of tribe, community and blood bonds. The film, too, avoids cheap irony in unemphasized shots at a mostly white public pool, Independence Day celebration, and Santa gift-request line. African-American culture is not broached, as the Africans keep in touch with one another and with those left behind -- to whom they recognize a duty -- and dream of finding their blood kin alive somewhere.

With the exception of one who won’t grow up, all children do. The original Lost Boys chose to return to the Darlings’ London, but these African ones need no metaphor for the loss of childhood’s Edenic Neverland. They look for the Wendy-mother as over four years they grow familiar with, but not into, America. Amazingly in light of the past, “proud,” as John says, “to be from Sudan,” they worry about a younger generation’s adoption of street culture, campaign for awareness about the continuing slaughter at home, sometimes actually find their living parents and siblings (whom they sacrifice to bring over), attend warm reunions in cold places and, reversing Eddie Murphy’s Coming to America Prince of Zamunda, fly back to “my beautiful mother homeland” to marry the girlfriend in Kakuma.

(Released by Newmarket Films/National Geographic and rated "PG" for thematic elements and some disturbing images.)