Well, my first thought on Ermo was that it was really a great flick. What really impressed me was the way that the despair and hope of Ermo was related to the audience. The internal bleeding on her arms from donating so much blood, the almost zombie-like fascination she has with the big-screen television, and the powerful scenes where she kneaded the dough for the noodles, they all seemed like they could be straight from Requiem for a Dream. Money and television were like her drug of choice, easing her sometimes rough relationships with her neighbors, her son, and her somewhat invalid husband. Yet in the end, when she had fulfilled her goal for the movie, she realized how little it really meant, especially considering the lengths she went through to get it.
Two other things struck me as I watched Ermo. First, it seemed genuine--each character played his part very well, both adding to the drama and somberness of the movie, but also giving contradictory emotions of happiness that worked well with the overall theme of the movie. Second, the odd thing I could not help but notice was that there was no music or score behind the entire movie, except perhaps during the opening credits. This makes the actors' jobs much more difficult, but also much more interesting. They alone must give emotional charge to the movie--the audience cannot rely on the tone of the music to take ques as to the meaning or intensity of each scence.