Romanian Film Festival ’11: Adalbert’s Dream

Workplace dynamics are pretty universal, even during the nadir of the Ceaușescu regime. However, everything is shabbier in this Romanian variation on the themes of The Office, with an extra element of intimidation added to make it all grimmer. Yet, a state-owned factory’s slick rule-bender remains irrepressible throughout Gabriel Achim’s Adalbert’s Dream (trailer here), which screens tomorrow as a selection of the Sixth Annual Romanian Film Festival, co-presented by the Romanian Cultural Institute and the Film Society of Lincoln Center.

For once, the factory employees are in good spirits, but it has nothing to do with festivities planned for the 75th anniversary of the Romanian Communist Party. The Steaua Bucharest football team pulled off an unlikely upset victory over mighty Barcelona in the European Cup final late the night before, leading to nationwide euphoria. Comrade Sub-Engineer Iulica Ploscaru videotaped the match to curry favor with his boss—not that ordinary Romanians are supposed to have luxuries like VCRs. Ploscaru though, has a knack for working angles and exploiting grey areas.

The Comrade Sub-Engineer works in the safety department, where his ill-defined duties include producing two cautionary films for the annual assembly. One is a documentary, while the other is an “artistic” film, illustrating the consequences of workplace negligence. His primary subject is Mrs. Comrade Lidia Spataru, a worker on disability whom he is has sort of-kind of been carrying on an affair with. She also stars as the Peter Pan-looking protagonist of his so-called art film, Adalbert’s Dream.

There are all kinds of workplace pettiness going on in Dream, but everyone is afraid of Comrade Tocmagiu, the Party enforcer, most definitely including Ploscaru’s boss, Lafardau. Clearly, office politics were no laughing matter under Communism. Ceaușescu’s workplace safety bureaucracy was also rather Kafkaesque, primarily existing to disallow workmen’s comp, if the periodic excerpts the film shows us from official reports are accurate at all.

Ploscaru is a rather bizarre screen protagonist, nebbish but self-centered, reckless but not rebellious, per se. He is a great comic character (who cannot tell a joke to save his skin), portrayed with sly understatement by Gabriel Spahiu.

In a clever screenplay co-written with noted Romanian author Cosmin Manolache, Achim perfectly captures the uncomfortable atmosphere of forced camaraderie (which any clock-watcher can relate to). He also conveys the dismal drabness so peculiar to the era. Yet, it is the implications of Dream’s events, often subtly implied, that really drive home the pathological dysfunction of the Ceaușescu years.

Though tighter, sharper, and more accessible than most of the films of the so-called Romanian New Wave, Dream’s shaggy aesthetic might take some viewers a bit of time to acclimate to. Yet, in its way, it is highly subversive and ruthlessly cutting. Even the recurring motif of goalie Helmuth Duckadam’s four saved penalty kicks ends on a decidedly ironic note. Unusually smart satire, Dream is definitely recommended when it screens tomorrow (12/4) as part of the 2011 Romanian Film Festival at the Walter Reade Theater.

Romanian Film Festival ’11: The Paper Will Be Blue

In 1989, the Romanian military received the orders all soldiers serving behind the Iron Curtain dreaded most. They were commanded to fire upon their fellow countrymen. Some did so, to an extent, but many more sided with the Revolution. Radu Muntean captures the chaotic anarchy in the hours immediately following the fall of Ceaușescu in his distinctly anti-heroic The Paper Will Be Blue (trailer here), which screens as part of a Muntean retrospective on the closing night of the Sixth Annual Romanian Film Festival, co-presented by the Romanian Cultural Institute and the Film Society of Lincoln Center.

Blue’s flashback format tells viewers right up front this night will end badly. Muntean then rewinds a few hours to show how events reached this point. Though Ceaușescu has been deposed, the military is not sure what to make of it. The revolutionaries have seized the television studio and many officers and enlisted men have volunteered to defend it from Communist Loyalists, or as the call them, terrorists. If you are wondering how to tell one side from the other, then you have just pinpointed the crux of Blue.

Militia (state copper) Lt. Neagu’s armored squad vehicle has been assigned to patrol a sleepy suburb well away from the action. However, one of his men from a politically connected family, Costi Andronescu, has deserted to join the forces defending the TV station. Fearing he will be disciplined for the actions of his subordinate, Neagu and his men venture into the maelstrom, hoping to bring back Andronescu in time for morning roll call. As they careen through the streets of Bucharest, allegiances become increasingly confused.

With its gritty docudrama-style and Kafkaesque absurdity, Blue bears many of the hallmarks of the so-called Romanian New Wave. However, there is no slack in this picture. It is tight and tense, holding a firm grip on viewers even though they know exactly where it ends. Muntean vividly captures both the claustrophobia within the armored car, and the disorienting commotion unfolding outside. The film also resists easy political labels, revisionist or otherwise, but as if often the case in the Romanian Wave, bureaucracy and authority figures take a real skewering.

Adi Carauleanu is fantastic as the world weary but compulsively cautious Neagu. Through his fatalism and wariness, the audience gets a sense of the pent-up frustration resulting from decades of service under Communism. Though a bit stiff on-screen, Paul Ipate has some finely turned moments as Andronescu as well. More than anything though, Blue is about conveying the in-the-moment feeling of a particularly time and place, in all its madness.

Blue is an excellent representative of Romanian film for a number of reasons. It certainly dramatizes a critical moment in recent history, but it also proves the films of the Romanian New Wave are not necessarily long, slow, or moody. Raw and visceral, Blue packs a punch. Its title also makes perfect sense in retrospect, but to explain why would be telling. Highly recommended, it closes the 2011 Romanian Film Festival at the Walter Reade Theater this Sunday (12/6), with a special post-screening Q&A with Muntean to follow.

Romanian Film Festival ’11: Digging for Life

Popularly known as “Doina,” the Cemetery at St. Lazar’s in Moldova is one of the largest in Europe, but people are still dying to get in. Now, more than ever, according to the salt-of-the-earth gravediggers employed there. We will have ample opportunity to watch them quietly work in Pavel Cuzuioc’s documentary Digging for Life (trailer here), which screens this Friday as part of the 2011 Romanian Film Festival—and admission is free.

The gravediggers’ work involves physical labor, which is never easy. The ground is hard year round, but usually frozen to boot during winter, while the heat of summer is punishing. They also have to walk to and from the cemetery, uphill both ways. They are not bad people though. They even still get a little choked up when called upon to bury young people, though they take the old-timers in stride by this point. They complain they have been burying considerably more of the former than usual recently.

It sounds like typical work place grousing, but late in the film Cuzuioc reminds viewers of something that suggests there might be something to what the gravediggers say after all. Not to give away the film’s only twist, but as a hint, it involves Moldova’s proximity to Ukraine. Frankly, it is not a huge payoff and the film still putters about the cemetery for sometime afterward. This is definitely one of those oh so observational documentaries. However, for anyone considering opening a cemetery, it is rather instructional.

Though none of the subjects really stand out, their sense of decorum is notable. They might well be hard-living, ribald guys outside of work, but they obviously appreciate the significance of where they are and conduct themselves accordingly. Frankly, in today’s Moldova, they are probably fortunate to have a job, difficult as it may be.

Digging is a modest little film that requires a bit of work from viewers to scratch out some significance. Still, it conveys a vivid sense of the cemetery and its hushed atmosphere. One of several recent Romanian productions for HBO Central Europe, it offers some interesting visuals, but precious little drama, when it screens this Friday (12/2) as part of this year’s Romanian Film Festival at the Walter Reade Theater. Again, the first-come first-served admissions are free, so those so inclined should plan to arrive early.

Romanian Film Festival ’11: Red Gloves

It was hard being part of Romania’s Saxon minority, particularly in the immediate post-war years. Embolden by the Soviet suppression of the Hungarian Revolution, the Romanian Communists began targeting the German-speaking minority. Though as a group they were disproportionately anti-Communist (and for good reason), this was not the case for young leftwing student Felix Goldschmidt. His lengthy imprisonment, interrogation, and trial testimony are dramatized in Radu Gabrea’s Red Gloves (trailer here), which screens this Thursday during the 2011 Romanian Film Festival, presented by the Film Society of Lincoln Center and the Romanian Cultural Institute.

Goldschmidt tried to believe the excesses of Romania’s so-called “obsessive decade” were an aberration that would soon give way to true socialism. He also craved acceptance. That would be more than enough for his interrogators to work with. In truth, Goldschmidt’s politics were a little slippery. He had associated with several nonconformist elements, but his relationship with them was somewhat ambiguous. In particular, he claims to resent the now banned author Hugo Huegel for stealing his girlfriend, but viewers witness decidedly intimate scenes shared by the two men.

Frankly, Goldschmidt is fairly wishy-washy, which makes him more vulnerable to the tactics of his captors. He seems especially eager to please the German speaking Major Blau, yet for a time he resists denouncing his friends and colleagues. Still, a strong personality can only hold out for so long—and Goldschmidt is not such a man.

Based on fact, but adapted from the novel by Enginald Schlattner, a Saxon-Romanian Lutheran pastor, Gloves is a deeply and pervasively tragic film. Arguably, Gabrea has become something akin to Romania’s cinematic conscience having helmed a adaptation of a previous Schlattner Saxon-Romanian novel, as well as the Holocaust-themed drama Gruber’s Journey, and documentaries about Romania’s Yiddish cultural legacy.

With Gloves, Gabrea focuses squarely on the interrogation process, vividly portraying the breakdown of Goldschmidt’s soul. Though there are frequent subsidiary flashbacks within the main narrative flashback, it is all a bit stage-like, featuring a relatively cast of characters in a confined setting. Yet, it is an effective arena to explore the terrors of Romania’s communist past, particularly through the hard insights offered by a former judge and a priest who briefly share Goldschmidt’s cell.

Though it is essentially by design, Goldschmidt is still a rather hollow figure nonetheless, never really brought to life by Alexandru Mihaescu. In contrast, Udo Schenk is absolutely electric as Blau. He deserves to be an internationally star, but the SS and Communist officers he has played for Gabrea are difficult to embrace, despite the screen charisma he brings to them.

Bitterly ironic and brutally honest, Gabrea’s film is—to use a loaded term from Gloves—a “cathartic” work. It is also a high quality period production that might come as a welcome respite to patrons tiring of the Romanian New Wave aesthetic, even with its grim subject matter. Respectfully recommended, it screens Thursday night (12/1) during the 2011 Romanian Film Festival at the Walter Reade Theater.

Romanian Film Festival ’11: Danube Waves

Given Romania’s shifting positions during WWII, it was a bit tricky setting a Communist-era propaganda film during that time, but the recently deceased Liviu Ciulei managed to do just that. For his second feature, the renowned theater director combined Casablanca with Wages of Fear, adding a pinch of Party propaganda for seasoning. A ripping tale of war and intrigue, Ciulei’s Danube Waves screens as part of the sidebar tribute to the filmmaker at the 2011 Romanian Film Festival, presented by the Film Society of Lincoln Center and the Romanian Cultural Institute.

Mihai is barge captain who does not trouble himself over politics. Nor is he much concerned about the poor substitutes for sailors he forces to sweep for mines. He just wants to get home to his young wife Ana. Though expendable crewmen are getting harder to recruit, the Germans are willing to provide a prisoner for his use. He chooses Toma, because the supposed criminal is certainly able-bodied and claims to have served on a ship before.

However, Ana can tell right away Toma does not know port from starboard, but he is a quick enough study to fool Mihai. Suspecting he is more than a common thief, a conspicuous sexual tension develops between Toma and Ana that Mihai deals with through heavy drinking as the barge loaded with German arms approaches a known minefield.

Of course, Toma is an agent of the Communist partisans, which gives the film an opportunity to periodically remind viewers just how deeply the Party loves us and how much it has sacrificed for Romania. Though hard to miss, these messages easily could have been more didactic.

The rest of the film is quite tightly executed. There are some real white-knuckle moments as the barge negotiates the bobbing mines and the dialogue (per the translated subtitles) is surprisingly sharp and even snippy at times. In a powerful performance, director Ciulei’s Mihai is an intense salt-of-the-earth screen presence, like Rick Blaine by way of Stanley Kowalski. In her film debut, Irina Petrescu nicely balances the intelligence, naivety, and sexuality of Ana. Though a bit stiff, Lazar Vrabie has a craggy Robert Stack quality that works rather well for Toma. After all, Communist heroes are supposed to be rigid and unyielding.

Danube is such a good film noir, even the state film authorities could not undermine it. Grigore Ionescu’s black-and-white cinematography is appropriately cool and moody, while the love triangle frankly gets kind of hot. As a bonus, there is even a rendition of "The Internationale." Highly recommended for old fashioned movie lovers who can parse the occasional propaganda salvo, Danube screens this Friday (11/2) as part of the 2011 Romanian Film Festival at the Walter Reade Theater, with a special introduction from Petrescu.

Romanian Film Festival ’11: Silent River & Strung Love (shorts)

The Ceaușescu years were not kind to those with an independent spirit or a competitive urge. Even the experience of victory was fraught with irony, but Gregor Totock would not know. However, the swimmer will have a rematch with his old nemesis, the Danube River, in Anca Miruna Lăzărescu’s Silent River (trailer here), the clear standout of the shorts program at this year’s Romanian Film Festival, presented by the Film Society of Lincoln Center in conjunction with the Romanian Cultural Institute.

Years ago, Totock tried to swim to the relative safety of Yugoslavia, via the Danube. It turned out badly for him—and even worse for his female companion. Several years later, the “rehabilitated” Totock is ready to take another shot at the river. Vali, a telephone authority employee, has clearance to be in the border zone, while he has contacts in Serbia who can smuggle them to Germany. Totock only reluctantly accepts the other man as a partner, adamantly refusing whenever Vali speaks of bringing his wife with them. Of course, Totock’s distrust of his companion is partly validated, greatly complicating their escape attempt.

Watching Silent will make viewers feel damp and chilly. It is grim and naturalistic, yet undeniably tense and even stylish. It vividly conveys the omnipresent fear of the Communist years that could not be called paranoia, because it was firmly rooted in reality. Toma Cuzin is a genuinely intense, gaunt looking screen presence, suggesting the power of a coiled spring ready to erupt. Established Romanian actor Andi Vasluianu also makes quite an impression, playing Vali with convincing nervous energy, without ever becoming ticky or mannered.

In marked contrast to Silent’s grittiness (the real socialist realism), Victor Dragomir’s Strung Love takes a gentler, more nostalgic look back at the supposed “Golden Age.” Viorel Petre is a smart, sensitive underachiever at his industrial high school, recruited by the principal, Comrade Badea, to defeat the school bully in a rivet making contest, and hopefully win over his crush in the process.

Much gentler in its satire, Strung seems to have a perverse fondness for the time when rivets were exalted in classrooms for playing a key role in the state’s industrial plan. Still, the political struggle between the principal and the metal-working teacher clearly depicts the pettier tendencies of Communist-era bureaucracy. Strangely stylized, Strung’s cast deliberately (one assumes) looks far too old for high school, but they scrupulously stay in character and never wink at the audience. Indeed, its goofy, light-hearted spirit is rather enjoyable, even if it largely dresses up the experience of living under the Ceaușescus.

This year’s Romanian short film program is unusually strong, also featuring Ioana Uricaru’s notable Stopover, a sly, subtler take on the basic premise of Spielberg’s The Terminal, written by Cristian Mungiu of 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days renown. However it is more of vignette. Silent is a fully conceived and realized film. One of the nominees for best short film at the 2011 European Film Awards, it is a work of a very high caliber, whereas Strung is just a lot of fun. All three screen together as part of the shorts program at the 2011 Romanian Film Festival at the Munro Film Center Amphitheatre this Friday and Saturday (12/2 & 12/3)—and take note: admission is free.