Occidente la película de Cristian Mungiu retrata la vida en Rumania de una manera muy particular y narra la historia entretejida de varios personajes entrañables, una pareja que se separa, el amor entre un hombre con botarga de botella de cerveza y  una mujer con botarga de teléfono celular, un italiano nacido en mozambique, un coronel de la policía casado con la directora de un horfanato y obviamente los mal portados niños del horfanato, hacen todos ésta particular visión de la Rumania moderna, comedia que nos sorprende con el manejo de los tiempos y las situaciones. Se presentará en La Sociedad del Cine Tlatelolco éste miércoles 25 de Noviembre a las 20:30 hrs., recuerda que si mencionas que leiste ésta nota te regalaremos un libro de colección sobre cine especial para cinéfilos. Los esperamos.

La penna ferisce più della spada, si dice. Già, le parole possono fare male. Fanno male all’Italia, ma forse ce le meritiamo, le parole che aprono Francesca, storia di una ragazza romena che sogna di venire nel Belpaese. “Non li vedi quegli stronzi degli Italiani? Non hai sentito quella puttana della Mussolini che vuole morti tutti i romeni? O quel grande sindaco di Verona che ha dichiarato la città libera dai romeni? Non li vedi i telegiornali? In Italia organizzano gruppi per picchiare i romeni. Per loro siamo tutti zingari, o ladri”. È questo che il padre le dice per dissuaderla dal venire da noi.

Di sicuro le parole hanno fatto male ad Alessandra Mussolini, lo sappiamo dai tempi del Festival di Venezia, giorni nei quali è scoppiata la polemica. “L’Onorevole Mussolini ha fatto un esposto in cui chiede il sequestro del film, in pratica di non farlo uscire nelle sale” ci ha raccontato oggi a Roma Domenico Procacci, a capo della Fandango che distribuisce il film. “Non possono chiedere che venga cambiata una battuta, ma possono chiedere che il film non esca. Ci siamo appellati al diritto che l’autore ha che il suo film esca nelle sale come l’ha pensato. Lunedì c’è stata un’udienza con il nostro legale e quello della Mussolini. La cosa che mi ha colpito di più è che la frase ‘quella puttana della Mussolini che vuole morti tutti i romeni’, non viene contestata nella seconda parte, ma quello che interessa è l’epiteto con cui viene definita. In realtà quella parola è motivata da quello che segue, e che la rende non amata in Romania e la fa apostrofare così. Il giudice ha preso in visione il film e prenderà una decisione nell’arco di qualche giorno”. “Di fronte a noi ci sono due scenari” continua Procacci. “Il giudice può dare ragione a noi, cioè che decidere che l’insulto non va inteso in senso letterale, ma che è uno sfogo che implica il risentimento di un personaggio, e allora il film uscirà nella sua versione integrale. Nel caso dia ragione alla Mussolini, il film così non potrà uscire nelle sale. Una possibilità sarebbe intervenire su quella parola in doppiaggio, d’accordo con l’autore, che potrebbe anche dire di no”. Anche per questo è incerta la data di uscita del film: potrebbe essere il 20 o il 27 novembre.

Polemiche a parte, Francesca è la prova che a ogni azione corrisponde una reazione. Le tante manifestazioni di xenofobia e razzismo verso i romeni degli ultimi anni non potevano rimanere in un microcosmo, riguardare solo il nostro paese. Ma è normale che siano rimbalzate oltre confine, suscitando un sentimento ostile nei nostri confronti. “Ho la coscienza pulita” ci spiega il simpatico regista Bobby Paunescu. “Ho scritto il film sentendo quello che in Romania si dice per la strada. Ho capito che potevano esserci dei problemi a Roma, quando è terminata la traduzione italiana del film. Io non ho voluto attaccare la Mussolini, ma parlare di un problema in maniera bilanciata. Nel film c’è la situazione romena, che è molto più dura di quella italiana: in una scena sentiamo dire ‘quel tuo amico sembra uno zingaro’ che è un’espressione ancora peggiore”. “Eliminando certe battute il film forse si sbilancerebbe” continua Paunescu. “Non dimentichiamo che il padre di Francesca, un uomo discutibile, sta cercando in tutti i modi di non far partire la figlia, perché cambierebbe la sua vita, e così dice tutte queste cose”. “Ho voluto mettere nel film molti dei clichè sugli italiani che si sentono, proprio per prenderli in giro”aggiunge. Anche questo aspetto è evidente, e anche così si spiegano il nonno che pensa che gli italiani siano solo “mangia spaghetti che rubano le donne ai romeni” o chi crede che in Italia i romeni vengano aggrediti per il traffico degli organi.

Polemiche, e qualità artistica, a parte, Francesca è un film utile, perché per la prima volta al cinema, dopo averla raccontata noi, vediamo una storia di migrazione dall’esterno, dal punto di vista di chi parte per arrivare da noi. E per vedere noi stessi dall’esterno, per capire come ci vedono gli altri. “Secondo me la percezione degli italiani sta cambiando” racconta il regista. “L’ottanta per cento dei romeni ama l’Italia come l’amava prima. C’è un venti per cento che forse ha dei problemi, ma sono persone che si pongono problemi su molte cose. Oggi c’è un gruppo di artisti romeni che mandano i film in giro per i festival per far vedere i problemi della Romania. Stiamo vivendo un periodo difficile: forse un giorno l’Italia sarà fiera di aver ospitato tanti romeni quando il paese era in difficoltà”. “Da distributore di film far vedere il ribaltamento del punto di vista per me è importante” ha aggiunto Domenico Procacci. “Mostrare cosa pensano di noi, senza che i romeni vengano trasformati in angioletti e gli italiani nei cattivi. Un conto è disapprovare certi comportamenti xenofobi stando seduti qui, un conto è farne vedere le conseguenze che avvengono lì”.

Si è parlato tanto in questi anni di nouvelle vague romena, di autori che raccontano il passato recente e il presente della Romania, soprattutto da quando 4 mesi, 3 settimane, 2 giorni di Cristian Mungiu ha vinto Cannes. “Sono orgoglioso di aver prodotto La morte del signor Lazarescu di Cristi Puiu, che ha dato inizio a tutto” afferma Paunescu. “Il cinema romeno ha trovato dei registi in grado di rappresentare i nostri problemi. In piccolo sta avvenendo quello che in Italia avveniva con il Neorealismo”. Paunescu ci racconta anche come in Romania la gente non sia abituata ad andare al cinema, perché negli anni Novanta i cinema sono stati venduti, trasformati in bingo o casinò, e che lui e altri artisti stanno girando il paese per presentare i film e riportare la gente nelle sale. Come ai tempi del Neorealismo (ma anche in quelli di Gomorra..) in Italia, anche in Romania oggi c’è qualcuno che pensa che i panni sporchi debbano essere lavati in famiglia. Ma la bella Monica Barladeanu, che interpreta Francesca, interviene e dà la sua visione delle cose. “Credo che il cinema sia una forma di psicoterapia a livello nazionale. Dobbiamo parlare del Comunismo, della Romania di oggi, dei nuovi ricchi. E quando vai dal terapista, non gli parli delle cose che vanno bene”.     

(Pubblicato su Movie Sushi)

Allegedly born of a criticism that recent films about Romania’s Communist era were better suited to garnering international plaudits than to audience enjoyment, Cristian Mungiu wrote this anthology of short films based on actual urban legends from the country’s so-called “golden age” during the 1980s. Of course, despite such State propaganda, life in Romania was really quite difficult and such humorous anecdotes were one way of making life a little more bearable.

In total, Mungiu wrote six stories. However, they are not all shown together, as a symbolic reflection of life at the time, i.e. you never knew what would be on the shop shelves, etc. from one day to the next. In the version released in Ireland (at least), there are five stories included, each helmed by a different director. They are done in a tongue-in-cheek style and show different aspects of how people tried to survive under a repressive, corrupt, and failed regime.

For example, the first legend is set in a remote village that is frantically preparing for a drive-through by some Party bigwigs. While there is a cheesy contrivance to the manner in which the denouement gets set up, it still ends with a delightful piece of authoritarianism gone mad.

This is followed by a depiction of chaos at the State newspaper when all of the photographs of General Secretary Ceauşescu with French President Giscard d’Estaing reveal him to be bareheaded. This is a serious breach of Party protocol, as it makes him look respectful of his foreign guest. Again, the bureaucratic system is nicely lampooned here, as well as the system’s penchant for media manipulation.

The third film tells the tale of what happens to a truck driver who breaks the rules after discovering that eggs may be the way to a certain woman’s heart. Focussing on everyday interactions between ordinary people, it is also the most thoughtfully photographed of the five.

Speaking of food, the next short is the cautionary tale of a family who try to discretely kill a pig that they do not wish to share with their hungry neighbours. The plot borders on slapstick at times, but the sight of the hairy pig tied up on the living room floor while the family stare despairingly at it is a memorable one.

Finally, there is an anecdote about a would-be Bonnie and Clyde who steal “bottles of air” from credulous apartment dwellers. Feeling like the longest of the five, it is also the most disappointing. Namely, despite the intriguing hook of how their caper is described, the ending does peter out rather badly.

On the whole, Tales From The Golden Age is a touch too long and the conventional plotting and frequently hackneyed jokes do lessen its satirical impact. However, following some of the more high-minded films to have come from the country’s current crop of directors, the change of pace is a welcome addition to a highly worthy canon of work.

Palme d’or winner Cristin Mungiu returns to the big screen with 4 other directors to present a portmanteau film of five vignettes depicting life at the end of the Romanian Communist period highlighting hardships and urban myths during the Ceausescu dictatorship.  The five short films are:

1. The Legend of the Official Visit

2. The Legend of the Party Photographer

3. The Legend of the Chicken Driver

4. The Legend of the Greedy Policeman

5. The Legend of the Air Sellers

What is unusual about this film is whilst all of the vignettes has been written by Cristian Mungiu, none of the short films have been attributed to a particular director unlike with other portmanteau films such as Paris Je T’aime.  As with all episodic films whether this film is successful very much depends upon whether the tone of each of the films works together and herein lies the problem with Tales From The Golden Age.  The first two vignettes are quite broad farce with comedy made from the clunking mechanics of the party machine.  This is in contrast to the somewhat more downbeat slower movement stories of the Chicken Driver and Greedy Policeman which hold a mirror up to the problems and hardships suffered by the average person during Ceausescu’s regime, in particular the rationing and hunger.  The final vignette is a far lighter story again.  For me, the more comedic and farcical elements worked far better and I actually found myself willing the longer Legend of the Chicken Driver to make way for something lighter.

There are some good performances in the film of actors that I would like to see more of, particularly in the final vignette, where the actors Diana Cavillioti (as Crina) and Radu Iacoban (as Bughi) who play a schoolgirl and a student running a scam collecting bottles.  I would like to see more of Cristian Mungiu’s filmmaking but I don’t think this is the right outlet for his clear talent.  Having said that, this film is far more watchable than 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days which was fantastic but gruelling and a tough watch. 

Romanian cinema is clearly on the up but these vignettes would work better as separate shorts rather than as a collective whole. 6/10

Tales From The Golden Age (Cristian Mungiu, 2009)

If I’m honest I would never have gone to see this film, and I would probably never have heard of it, were it not on the itinerary for a film club I sometimes go to. But it’s quite possibly my favourite film of 2009.

Romanian cinema seems to be hip at the moment. I’m an absolute newcomer but I’m told the boy Mungiu started it by winning the Palme d’Or with 4 Months, 3 Weeks & 2 Days, and I remember The Death of Mr Lazarescu getting critical hosannahs. This one, however, shows the lighter side of Romanian cinema. Mungiu wrote five short screenplays, each based on an urban myth from Communist Romania, and each was shot by a different director. I expected grim austerity, but I laughed like a drain and came away really fancying a trip to Romania one of these days. Communism gets exposed for the utter sham that it is but the defining characteristic is an evident love for the land and its people.

The opening credits confirm the implicit irony of the title. Names appear on the broken banisters and grubby steps of a high-rise staircase, ironically juxtaposed with a stirring patriotic song. It all looks like a DVD menu and it’s not a promising start, but soon we’re onto The Legend of the Official Visit.

The striking thing about this film is how bright, colourful and appealing the countryside looks. It’s gorgeous sunshine, but it’s a gentle, golden sunshine. In a small village, it’s all hands to the deck as the presidential motorcade is going to be coming through and everything has to be just so. At the village hall people are gardening, washing the windows. An anxious young man, Gheorgita, is on the phone- “We have very nice cows”. He’s told they’ll need pigeons.

The fat man who has brought his travelling carousels for the annual fair is asked what happened to his pigeons? His brother ate them, but he has some canaries. The pigeon problem is delegated and Gheorgita mounts a rusty bike, then heads off to see the Mayor. Shades of Borat as he cycles down the main road, filled with busy villagers. Mend that hole! Clear up that cow shit! Your flag is back-to-front!

The Mayor is more agitated than anyone; he sits with hot towels over his face, dreading the moment he’s put to the test. He snaps at people, he’s in such a panic that his suggestions are desperate. Should we hang some fruit from the trees so they’re not bare? The fairground man shoos away children- he needs petrol to get his carousel running. As his pretty daughter sleeps topless in the caravan, he chases away a peeping tom soldier.

The villagers get choreographed for two party officials, coming to inspect on the eve of the visit. Their utter disdain brings home the Kafkaesque side of the regime; their inconstant whims keep people constantly on their toes and today’s right answer is tomorrow’s capital offence. Why on earth are there cows in the square? Only sheep would be acceptable. Those pigeons should be white. And the carousels have got to be dismantled immediately, we don’t care if the man has travelled here specially.

A boozy lunch for the two officials turns into a bacchanalian supper, and they soften up a little. The carousel workers are called away from their dismantling duties to play folk music for the party. That pretty girl is asked to sit on the head official’s knee and we can see her father fuming as he pumps his accordion. The music stops for a phone call, which brings news that the visit has been cancelled. The officials are very drunk by now, and tell everyone to pile onto the carousel.

The Mayor gets travel sick as they all spin round in the night air, each in his little chair. People call for the ride to stop- but all the operators are on board. We’ll have to wait until the engine runs out of petrol, and I filled it up this morning, says Dad. They’re left all night and we see a shepherd tutting as the sun rises.

People thought the film was like Goodbye Lenin, with everyone propping up a cardboard facade in order to pretend that things were fine and efficient, but this made me think of Fellini’s facsist-era films like Amarcord. Everyone’s stuck on a fairground ride; the system that contains them keeps them living like children. It’s viewed with a subtly critical, yet warm-hearted and sympathetic eye.

More party politics in The Legend of the Party Photographer. Shots of an imposing Stalinist building in the city centre show that we’re moving into the heart of the machinery. Two photographers are in a darkroom, trying to choose the photo which makes the diminutive Ceaucescu looks tallest. They give up and step outside for a fag break. We establish that they’re an uncle and nephew. They see a black Volga pull up across the road and discuss how no-one is ever safe (“They can pick you up at any time”).

The pair meet the newspaper’s editors. Giscard D’Estaing is making a state visit that afternoon and the newspaper must be distributed by early the next morning. Everything will have to move like clockwork. We see a parade of soldiers, flags, and the editor waiting impatiently for photos. Bird’s eye view of the nephew running up several flights of stairs to the darkroom. People bang on their door as the pictures develop.

The editors are dissatisfied. None of these photos will do as D’Estaing is wearing a hat and Ceaucescu isn’t; it looks like he’s doffing his hat to capitalism. The photographers’ solution is to prittstick a little hat onto Ceaucescu. We get dramatic against-the-clock music as the editors decided that the not-yet-dried first attempt will have to do. We see a paper press, distribution vans and bundles of the paper being loaded onto express trains. Then we see a worker stare at the front page. Phone calls, people running around. Stop the press!

What’s wrong? Ceaucescu has a hat on his head and one in his hand. The photographers are accosted as they’re about to clock off, and the uncle collapses when he realises. We see a military van halt one of the trains and confiscate all the papers. When the train is off again, the guard studies the one remaning copy he had been using for a breakfast tablecloth, and he guffaws out loud. They say that Ceaucescu borrowed most of his ideas from Kim Il Sung and the images of people fiddling with the pre-photoshop hat are appropriately Mickey Mouse; it’s a set-up worthy of Gogol.

After these two Kusturica-like political fables, the film zooms to a close-up with an intimate examination of the private lives of people from that era. Our centrepiece, The Legend of the Chicken Driver, is the least comedic and the one that’s shot in a most consciously artsy manner; much silent footage of people sitting still in empty rooms. It also felt like the longest of the five.

The driver is a portly chap in a stale marriage. We get a sense of what his life is through repetitions; the route he drives, his wife sleeping with her back to him as he sits wide awake. It’s drudgery and we’re not spared any of the quietly sad tedium, as his wife washes her hair in a basin of hot water from the stove.

His only treat is to stop at an inn on his drives, which is in a beautiful, thickly-forested area surrounded by snow-capped Carpathian mountaintops. Here he can chat to fellow drivers and the affable but put-upon patroness. The bartering that goes on here makes their lives seem medieval, pre-currency. He brings his family’s allowance of eggs, and bags of chicken gizzards, to the patroness in exchange for sugar or butter.

We realise how fond he’s getting of the patroness when he grabs his pillows and starts sleeping on the sofa at home. He bakes cakes and presents them to the patroness with wine. On the occasion when his tyres are stolen and he’s obliged to stay the night at the inn, he seems quite thrilled but nothing happens, however much he lingers around the kitchen like a puppy dog, watching the patroness prepare the next morning’s loaves (“You can take that wine to your room”, she tells him diplomatically but pointedly).

The driver’s downfall comes when he breaks protocol, unsealing his load to feed and water the chickens. He makes up the patroness a basket from the many eggs his birds have laid, and she wants more. Easter is approaching and she could sell so many eggs, it would be a shame to waste them. We, and the patroness, learn of the driver’s arrest through some young drivers chatting in the inn. The last we see of the driver, he’s summoned out of his cell for visiting time; he looks small behind the glass panel. When his expression turns to disappointment and misery, we realise in advance that the visitor will be his wife.

A return to levity comes with the most out-and-out comic piece, The Legend of the Greedy Policeman. Like the third film, it reinforces the idea that people bartered with food as an alternative to currency. In a classroom, the kids are wild until a teacher enters and they belt out the anthem. We see various boys attempting to win the favour of the class beauty Gheorgiana by sneaking her pieces of fruit and cuts of meat.

One boy asks the lad in front of him for help with his homework; his payment will be a cut of the pig that his uncle is bringing from the country that evening. We see a local man wander into an empty butcher’s shop to be told that there might be a bit of pork tomorrow, and we realise why the pig is such a big deal. Trouble starts, however, when the hapless uncle arrives at the family’s tower block with a live pig in the back of his car.

The pig squeals and screeches as it is carried indoors. How can they kill a live pig without the neighbours hearing? They eventually decide to seal off the kitchen and gas the pig to death. It all goes very well until the father gets out his blowtorch, to burn off the pig’s hair…

The Legend of The Air Sellers ends the film on a thoughtful note; it concerns Crina, a teenage girl who longs to go on a costly school trip. Her parents have been saving to buy a car and the money isn’t there. She’s a confident, assertive girl, sufficiently sure of herself to turn away whoever knocks at her door and laughingly knock back boys her own age. Her friend summons her out to a party at the flat of some local students, who have obtained a precious and fetishised item; a VHS video player.

At the party teens are slow dancing and snogging under a mirrorball. In the back room a few cinephiles watch Bonnie & Clyde. We don’t learn its significance until Crina spots Bughi, the man who had knocked on her door earlier. She’s looking to earn money and wants in on his scam, whatever it is. Bughi likes her and they arrange to meet the next day.

The scam is that Bughi knocks on people’s doors, claiming to be from the government and investigating complaints about the uncleanliness of tap water (quite feasible as the town is home to a vast chemical plant). He asks to take a sample in any glass bottle, then exchanges the bottles for cash at a depot. Soon Crina is his girl and being desperate for ready cash, as well as bolder and more forward, she expands the scope of the project somewhat.

Poultry transport and a student scam may not be glamorous stuff, but this story and Chicken Driver do follow the template of film noir in that it’s a woman -who has a magnetoic pull over the man, who can’t stop and wants more- that kickstarts the downfall of the male protagonist. Crina is a proper femme fatale. We can see Bughi grow amorous but she is fixated only upon her prize of the school trip. In policier convention, the pair get found out and are chased to the rooftops by the cops.

“We can jump, it’s not that far.”

“Your think there’s anywhere to run?”

The stories are comical and often farcical- however the humour is often gallows, and used as a defence from/defiance of the dire straits in which people lived. There are certain things taken for granted within the stories; for instance, the way that nobody ever answers their front door without peeping through the spy hole beforehand. You have to laugh when every day is liable to be your last day of freedom; the triumph of this film is that the people don’t let the bastards grind them down.

One aside- a friend tells me that there are only 19 cinemas in the whole of Romania, all of which are devoted to Hollywood action films, and that films like this are made solely for export. Which seems a tremendous pity.

Si in completarea articolului anterior, adaug doua poze care-mi plac foarte mult :

1. Andreea, Sabina si eu (Malina/Newdada)

2. Cristian Mungiu si Malina (Newdada)

Multumim celor care ne-au facut pozele; le pastrez pentru nepoti;

Am fost si eu, ca multi altii la Optimism 2009, eveniment organizat ” ca la carte” de Evensys. Asadar, iata si notitele mele:

Andreea Marin (arata foarte bine, nu se vedea ca e insarcinata, se pare ca este in a doua luna; Felicitari!) :

• Este molipsitor optimismul, dar din pacate si mai molipsitor este pesimismul!
• Frate, nu ma cheama nimeni (la evenimente), daca e rezolvat totul!
• Oportunitatea ti-o creezi!

Cristian Mungiu (care a tinut la numele de scena “Cristian”) – mare om, mare caracter; foarte popular;

• Cel mai optimist film romanesc, din ultima vreme, pentru el: “Moartea domnului Lazarescu”.

Dan Dumitrescu:

• Regulile jocului: 1. Implicare; 2. Special; 3. Voluntar; 4. Imaginativ;

Bogdan Naumovici:

• ne-a prezentat un videoclip mishto despre “Miscarea de rezistenta”;

• Hate something, change something!
• Criza asta e o mare sansa pentru noi.

Teodor Frolu:

• Nu exista soarta, soarta si-o face omul cu mana lui!

Sanda Nicola (o luptatoare si o supravietuitoare, ceea ce i-am zis si “in direct”)

• Sunt Sanda Nicola, am avut cancer … si acesta este cel mai bun lucru care mi s-a intamplat!

Vlad Stan:

• ne-a vorbit despre vise si visuri;
• First they ignore you, then they laught at you, then they fight with you and then, you win!

Adrian Soare:

• ne-a intrebat care sunt 3 lucruri care ne fac zilnic mai optimisti;

Cristian Lupsa (fost senior-editor la Tabu – a avut o prezentare foarte interesanta):

• Cum sa faci o revista in 10 pasi? Primul pas este intalnirea cu “partenerii” la o bere, al doilea pas: 3 beri, al treilea pas; “Stabileste-ti misiunea” etc. Iar revista pe care urmeaza sa se lanseze se numeste sugestiv: “Decat o revista”.

Dana Lazar (- de la Hotcity) ne-a vorbit despre responsabilitate si implicare sociala .

• Traieste-ti pasiunea!

Razvan Baciu - om din sfera tehnologiei, ne-a prezentat proiectul “Evadeaza cu noi!”

Cat despre mine, pot spune ca am fost fericita sa vad dovada in carne si oase a optimismului: Sanda Nicola.

Am stat mai mult de vorba cu Sabina, dar am “socializat” cu foarte multa lume. Si sa nu uit de jocul lui Dan Dumitrescu.

Eu am facut echipa cu Paula Negrea, Lady Look de pe twitter si ne-am gandit la a imbina pasiunea pentru haine si pentru copii. Sa vedem ce-o sa iasa!

Si de asemenea, mi-a placut momentul sponsorului:

Multumiri organizatorilor, celor de la Gusto pentru pufuleti, celor care au facut poze si filmulete si tuturor oamenilor cu care am schimbat cateva vorbe.

Ieri la Howard & Johnson Hotel a avut loc Optimism2009 editia de toamna. Am ajuns devreme, undeva  in jurul orei 12:00 si am stat pana la 19:30 cand s-a terminat. Au avut loc 3 sesiuni de discutii, fiecare cu vorbitori diferiti.
Prima oara ne-au vorbit Andreea Marin, Cristian Lupsa si Cristian Mungiu. Toti 3 sunt oameni optimisti, frumosi si plini de viata. Ca sunt cunoscuti nu cred ca trebuie sa mai adaug. Andreea este o femeie chiar frumoasa (mai frumoasa decat in reviste unde este photoshopuita la greu), Cristi Lupsa este un tip care vorbeste frumos, cursiv, inteligent iar Mungiu…el este un mare om doar prin ideile si modul in care le expune, ca sa nu mai zicem de filmele lui.
In sesiunea a doua ne-au vorbit Dan Dumitrescu si Sandra Ghitescu despre jocuri si despre faptul ca opusul jocului nu este munca, ci depresia. Bogdan Naumovici (intr-un tricou Harley normal) ne-a prezentat campania “Miscarea de rezistenta” (voi pune filmuletele intr-un alt post, este o campanie care m-a impresionat) realizata impreuna cu Jurnalul National. Teodor Frolu a vorbit despre zonele din capitala construite, iar Sanda Nicola, jurnalista diagnosticata cu cancer de col de uterin – acum vindecata – a avut cel mai emotionant si mai plin de optimism discurs. Ne-a invatat sa ne facem testul Papanicolau pentru a depista din timp virusul HPV ce duce la cancerul de col uterin si care este 100% tratabil.
In ultima parte au vorbit cateva minute Vlad Stan – Trigwee; Adrian Soare – #3lucruri; Cristian Lupşa – Cum îţi faci o revistă în 10 paşi simpli; Dana Lazar- Hotcity Live! Trăieşte-ţi pasiunea; Răzvan Baciu – Prietenul organizator – un proiect bazat pe fapte reale; Andrei Birsan – Bucureştiul meu drag; Mihai Taraipan – ZaGift. Fiecare a venit cu un proiect deosebit, interesant si pe care abia astept sa le vad pornite “up and running” !
Fellicitarile mele lui Manafu pentru acest eveniment deosebit, care mi-a facut ziua mai frumoasa, am cunoscut o gramda de oameni super (pe care abia aseptam sa ii vad si offline) si am invatat multe lucruri noi. Si am mancat o gramada de pufuleti de la Gusto – cu si fara ciocolata.

Si acum poze

Después de ver esta peli me quedé pensando en lo siguiente: ¿cómo rayos es que los directores dominicanos siguen haciendo tanta basura y no piensan un poco más lejos y hacen al menos el intento con una peli de esta magnitud?. Es lamentable.

4 Luni, 3 Saptamâni si 2 Sile (4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days) se desarrolla en Rumanía en la década de los 80. Dos amigas (Anamaria Marinca y Laura Vasiliu) viven en una especie de Pensión Universitaria con otras amigas y llevan el mismo tipo de vida que sus compañeras. Una de ellas está embarazada y ha decidido abortar para continuar los estudios, cosa que en la Rumanía de entonces era un delito de lo más grave. Logran contactar con un individuo que le practicará el aborto a cambio de una suma de dinero que aún no tienen disponible. Aún así proceden lo pactado y es entonces donde el destino les jugará una muy mala pasada y las cosas no les saldrán tan bien como lo planificaron.

Una tremenda fotografía enfocada en mostrar la crudeza y la tristeza que de por si la peli ya trae impresa. Una genial dirección de Cristian Mungiu.

Am mâncat o gutuie cu lapte şi îmi fierbe în burtă… o să iasă ceva moale. De fapt la ora la care citiţi probabil că a ieşit deja. Asta trebuia să fie o discuţie privată între mine şi Muricel, cunoscut de toţi ca “Bunoiu, dă-mi hârtie igienică!”, dar el a zis s-o pun pe blog. Şi cum n-am mai pus-o de mult, pa blog adică, am zis fie. Am în lucru şi un scenariu de film porno, “3 în una” o să-i spun, cu Sergiu Nicolaescu, Cristian Mungiu şi comunism, aşa că staţi p’aproape. Şi nu uitaţi deviza, căcaţi-vă mult!

După 4,3,2 deja arhicunoscut …uşor, uşor comunismul se diluează, cum spunea Mircea Dinescu … “acum ar trebui să ne îndreptăm spre un proces al capitalismului“.

Filmele despre comunism se încheie aici într-o cheie veselă cu Cristian Mungiu -  Amintiri din epoca de aur 1 şi 2.

Câteva momente de la premieră aici

My review of “Tales from the Golden Age” (Cristian Mungiu…, 2009) is now online here:

http://busanhaps.com/worrel.html#tales

Cover of Persepolis (Pantheon, 2007); image courtesy of shelflove.wordpress.com

When I saw the film version of Marjane Satrapi’s graphic novel Persepolis, it was a pretty rad time to be a feminist moviegoer. In the last month of 2007 and the first month of 2008, this movie came out, along with Juno and 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days. Having just completed a girls’ studies course, I was ecstatic that three different movies, each from a different country, were released with complex, resilient protagonists who were girls and young women.

Two of these movies earned Oscar nominations a few months later. Juno won Best Screenplay. Persepolis was nominated for Best Animated Feature, but unfortunately lost to Ratatouille. 4 Months, which documents the harrowing day of one college student trying to procure an illegal abortion for her roommate during the last years of Nicolae Ceauşescu’s in Romania, won the Palme D’Or at Cannes earlier in 2007, but failed to receive any nominations. For some reason. Perhaps it escaped nomination as a technicality, but I don’t understand why no one, particularly writer-director Cristian Mungiu or lead actress Anamaria Marinca, got any Academy recognition. Perhaps because it lacked the allegorical importance of No Country For Old Men or There Will Be Blood and cut to very real (and tremendously gendered) issues facing real people in the real world, many of whom reside in developing nations. 

But it is really no matter. No Country, There Will Be Blood, Julian Schnabel’s The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, and Todd Haynes’s I’m Not There were but more examples of what a very fine time this particular two-month period was for movies. But 4 Months was easily my favorite movie of that year. The movie whose source material will be the focus of this post was a very close second.

Having seen the movie upon its U.S. release, some context has changed considerably upon revisiting Satrapi’s autobiography about coming of age inside and outside of Iran from the late 70s to the early 90s, a time period where the country witnessed the fall of the Shah (aided by the United States), the swift and crushing oppression of its citizens by Islamic extremists, a devastating eight-year war with Iraq, and the neighboring country’s launch of the Persian Gulf War. In late 2007, we were still living under the Bush Administration, so the country’s positioning as part of the ”axis of evil” was in my mind, but being pretty ignorant about the country’s political history and our involvement with it past the Iran-Contra Affair, Bush’s branding of the country read more as a promise that the United States were, in fact, going to try and spread democracy by force to all of the Middle East, snatching up its real or imagined WMDs and drain its oil resources in the process. And I knew about President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and was disgusted by his views on the Holocaust and heartened by the student protests around his adminstration, but was not yet aware of just what a dangerous despot he is.     

This was, of course, before this year’s highly controversial presidential election, which Ahmadinejad “won” by a suspiciously high margain over rival candidate Mir-Hossein Mousavi, an Independent reformist. At the time, what seemed more present in our minds in the states was what Twitter was doing to help cover and contextualize the civic protests and how quickly mainstream broadcast news was going to incorporate the still-emergent micro-blogging site’s Tweets into their 24-hour cycle, regardless of how accurate they were. 

As a result, I was a little jaded by the “Twitter users coverage of the Iran election is going to change news reporting” angle many seemed to be taking and instead wanted to know more about how the election was fraudulent, why certain people (specifically journalists, protesters, students, and politicians) were being arrested, what the stakes were, who was doing a good job covering this news story, and, most importantly, what circumstances led to the current iteration of Iran. Remembering that local branches of Barnes & Noble were donating proceeds to the Paramount upon purchase last weekend, shilling out my money to the big box chain for the sake of preserving a historical movie theater seemed as a good an opportunity to buy the book that may provide answers.

And, I’ll be honest. Reading the book left me with more questions than anything else (a similar feeling came over me when reading Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns, two books whose timelines stretch past the 70s-90s, but contain a considerable overlap in terms of time with Persepolis, focusing on what was going on with ordinary people in Afghanistan, another contentious Middle Eastern country that borders Iran). It was hard not to check some ugly American tendencies I have toward Islamic traditions — particularly toward its views on marriage, sexuality, gender politics, and dress. At the same time, I was incredulous of how pro-West rhetoric and ideology, alongside our smuggled trinkets of popular culture, could possibly reform a nation, or at least save a person.

Luckily, Satrapi is skeptical of both and, like me and other feminists from all over the world, has a lot to negotiate. She grapples with these issues head-on. She argues with teachers against the physical restrictions and societal double standards that come with the hijab and the burka (sidenote: I know that Faegheh Shirazi, who teaches Middle Eastern Studies at UT and rejects traditional Islamic dress, has written and taught courses on gender and clothing in the Middle East, but any other suggestions for further reading are welcome). She watches her female peers grow up to only want marriage and children, in large part because these are the only things their nation’s leaders believe define their worth. Particularly poignant for this co-habitator, she regrets getting married to a man named Reza because they could not legally live together (or even walk the street) without proof of marriage, dissolving the marriage and leaving for France.

Marjane and friends reject the hijab; image courtesy of rand.org

Satrapi is a smart rebel who reads constantly, thinks clearly, and never backs down from an argument. She yells at authority figures who bully her or deny that there are any political prisoners in Iran after learning about the loss of her grandfather, who was son and prime minister to the ousted king (a tie that Satrapi suggests is not uncommon).

College student Satrapi damns the man; image courtesy of butterfliesandbears.wordpress.com

Luckily for Satrapi, she gets through all of this with the love and support of her politically aware and resistant parents, their friends, and one rad paternal grandma. Not so luckily, she also knows and meets lots of folks who suffered for speaking up, speaking out, or just living in the wrong house during an aerial bombing. Something tells me that many Iranians could recount similar tales of horror.

Satrapi also learns that the ways of the West are not always ideal, either. While a pre-pubescent in Iran, she hangs Iron Maiden posters on her wall her parents smuggle from a vacation in Turkey when the government lifted border restrictions. She defiantly walks around her neighborhood, blaring Kim Wilde’s “Kids in America” from her Walkman while sporting a Michael Jackson pin. But noting that their daughter’s rebelliousness is hardly a phase and that escalating conflict with Iraq could mean the imprisonment or death of their mouthy teen, her parents send her to live with a friend of her mother’s in Vienna.

Still from the film; image courtesy of whatsontv.co.uk

Satrapi finishes high school, barely scraping by as she finds odd jobs, dates dumb boys, takes a lot of drugs, and runs into authority figures who want her to tow the line and behave. She also falls in with a group of radical misfits who dabble with nihilism, Marxism, hair dye, and punk. While Satrapi initially finds a home with these punks and new wave kids, she soon discovers their privilege has made them cowardly, pretentious, self-righteous, entitled, and lazy. Her outsider status also makes her cool, her Austrian peers clearly jealous by what she has seen and experienced without really processing the weight of it between drags off their joints and skims through their copies of the Marx-Engels Reader in their well-appointed bedrooms. It’s small wonder that, when Satrapi finally returns home to Iran after she finishes high school homeless and afflicted with bronchitis, she washes off a punk stencil from her bedroom wall. And while she’s sad that her mother gave away her cassette tapes, she probably wasn’t going to listen to them anyway. She would’ve kept the Kim Wilde tape, however.

So, ultimately, I do feel this revisit of Persepolis helped clarify my feelings about the state of Iran. It also left me with several questions and a need to know more. Ultimately, though, it left me with the sense of universality that exists between people, especially tough, smart women and girls, while at the same time recognizing the particularities that inform their realities. And continues to inform them. Back in June, Satrapi spoke out against the election results with filmmaker Mohsen Makhmalba. Something tells me that her grandmother, who passed away shortly after Satrapi moved to France at the close of the book, would be proud.

Quality time with grandma; image courtesy of rwor.org

Un film de văzut! Frapant, prin actualitatea sa!

Oana Stancu şi Adrian Ursu, moderatorii emisiunei Ora de foc, Realitatea tv, au impartit jurnalistii romani in 2 tabere. Pro si anti- Basescu.  Dupa emisiune, CTP sau Cristian Tudor Popescu care a fost plasat in tabara anti Basescu a declarat ca nu este nici anti nici pro. ,,Eu il critic pe Basescu dar nu ma declar anti. Nu sunt nici anti nici pro. Sunt jurnalist si stau pe margini ca la calculator pe bara de meniu,,.  Asteptam ca acesti 2 gazetari sa lanseze clasamentul incepand cu ei. Foarte simplu. Oana spunea ca e anti si Ursu la fel. Atunci incercam si eu sa cred ca aceasta plasare este obiectiva, efectuata pe declaratii, fapte.

 Pro Basescu: Ion Cristoiu- jurnalist politic, Rodica Culcer – fosta jurnalista BBC; Mircea Marian – editorialist EVZ; Andreea Pora – hotnews;  Sorin Ionita; Horia Roman Patapievici, preşedintele ICR; Radu Moraru – moderatorul emisiunei Nasul, B1;

Anti Basacu: Sorin Rosca Stanescu- jurnalist; Cornel Nistorescu – director Cotidianul; Victor Ciutacu – Vorbe grele, Antena 2; CTP editorialist, fondator Gandul; Mircea Badea – moderator In gura presei, Antena 3; Cristian Pirvulescu- analist; Alina Mungiu-Pippidi   – politolog, sora regizorului Cristian Mungiu; Bogdan Chiriac- analist politic; Mircea dinescu – Realitatea tv;

Angela Gheorghiu împreună cu Vlad Miriţă au susţinut un concert de muzică clasică în Piaţa Constituţiei pe 19 septembrie. Ne-am decis să mergem după o zi plină de tensiuni în care am avut interviuri. Iar dacă la interviu am vorbit despre acest concert, prin ziare se tot scria de el, la fel şi pe site-uri, am ales să-mi petrec seara de sâmbătă la concert ca să mă lămuresc ce au vrut Vlad şi Angela să spună când au declarat că vor cânta piese accesibile.

În final, nu m-am lămurit ce au vrut să spună cu aceste “piese accesibile”, dar noi am ascultat încântaţi La Habanera, Carmen, muzica lui Puccini, Madama Butterfly, O Fortuna sau Rapsodia lui Enescu.

Spectacolul a fost prezentat de actorul Victor Rebengiuc, dirijor Tiberiu Soare. La eveniment a fost prezent şi Cristian Mungiu care la finalul spectacolului urma să-şi promoveze noul film: “Amintiri din epoca de aur”, dar Oprescu a fost un regizor nu foarte bun şi publicul a plecat destul de repede. Sunt sigura că motivul a fost frigul de afară pentru că am tremurat pe tot parcursul concertului. Oricum, filmul poate fi văzut în cinematografe.

Mulţumim pentru invitaţie şi fotografii lui Florin Alboiu.

Un film scris de Cristian Mungiu si regizat de Ioana Uricaru, Hanno Hoefer, Razvan Marculescu, Constantin Popescu si Cristian Mungiu. Acest film vi-l recomand sa-l vedeti. La Cannes, anul acesta, a fost selectionat in sectiunea “Un Certain Regard”.
Sunt prezentate cele mai cunoscute legende urbane din Romania anilor ‘80 recuperind umorul care i-a ajutat pe romani sa supravietuiasca perioadei.

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