Ion
I. Ion has a distinctive name, but not distinctive enough. Out of the blue, he is awarded a high state
honor for his rather undistinguished military service. After accepting the medal, he sends an
inquiry to the ministry, asking why it was bestowed on him. In the following days, his stature in the
neighborhood rises significantly. After
the official ceremony (featuring former President Ion Iliescu playing himself
in the 1990’s), I.I. Ion starts to believe he really is a war hero. Then he gets his reply from the ministry: his
medal was intended for Ion J. Ion.
In
some ways, Medal is an appropriate
companion film to Corneliu Porumboui’s Police,Adjective (which also screened during this year’s Disappearing Act), but
history weighs more heavily over Netzer’s tale of bureaucrat bungling. For obvious starters, Romania’s record during
WWII could be uncharitably described as opportunistic, a fact I.I. Ion
indirectly concedes when relating his dubious war stories to some street kids
on the block.
However,
the Socialist era continues to have a more corrosive effect on the Ion
family. I.I. Ion and his son Cornel have
not spoken since 1988. As his father
sees it, he merely sought the assistance of the militia to discourage his son
from immigrating to Canada. The son considered
it informing, as does his mother Nina, who has cold-shouldered I.I. Ion ever
since.
While
not exactly a breakneck thrill ride, Medal
is far more accessible than some of the recent audience endurance tests
produced by the Romanian New Wave.
Still, it is a very subtle film that implies more than it states outright
down the stretch. In real life, Iliescu is
a complicated figure, whose ultimate place in history remains highly debatable,
but at least he is a great sport playing himself. Of course, as I.I. Ion, Victor Rebengiuc is the
workhorse of the picture, convincingly insecure and neurotically verbose. Viewers cannot help feeling simultaneous
sympathy and contempt for him.
