In the marvelous “Look Into My Eyes,” director Lana Wilson begins by framing, in tight close-up, a very together-looking doctor of about 50, who 20 years earlier had attended the 10-year-old victim of a drive-by shooting. The child had been struck in the head; she was “dead on arrival.” When the news was given to the parents, they were stone-faced. The medical team never talked about it. The matter was buried with the victim. “What I want to know,” the doctor asks, “is how is she?”
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