Eva Mulvad and Anja Al-Erhayem's hour-long documentary Enemies of Happiness details the final stages of Malalai Joya's 2005 campaign (in the first democratic election held in 35 years) for a seat on the Afghanistan parliament. Joya lives in what can only be described as a constant, ever-mutating state of threat. The curtains on the windows of her apartment are always drawn, blocking out both the sun and the prying eyes of anyone who might wish her harm. She has staunchly and publicly decried the identity-obliterating nature of the burka, but wears one, nonetheless, as a protective measure during her occasional journeys into the outside world. A consummate politician, Joya campaigns publicly in the safest towns and privately via television and Hal Phillip Walker-like audio recordings. She is also a tireless confidant to and arbiter for various Afghani citizens, intervening in one couple's vicious divorce proceedings and counseling a young girl who is to be married against her will. A 100-year-old woman walks two hours from her village to pay homage to Joya, offering herbal medicine and recollecting her days as a planter of land mines. She speaks of Joya's democratic ideals with a gleam in her eyes. No mere hagiography, Enemies of Happiness is more an anecdotal collection of personal incident and action that culminates in a series of harshly realized truths. Even in victory, Joya recognizes the things that have been sacrificed and lost in her pursuit of the moral high ground, and as she takes her seat among the 200-plus members of the Wolesi Jirga, an all new threat emerges: the prospect of anonymity amid the myriad voices of a damaged nation. All that has come before is mere prelude. It is here, to paraphrase Western playwright Tony Kushner, that the great work begins.  Keith Uhlich