Cristian Mungiu, 2007Set in 1987 Romania, two years before the bloody revolution that saw leader
Nicolae Ceausescu executed for acts of genocide and for crimes against the state,
4 Months, 3 Weeks & 2 Days captures a country in the grips of desperation and despair. The speed with which the violence escalated through those days in 1989, with such force and ease, are hinted at, though not directly, in this seminal masterpiece from 39 year old director Cristian Mungiu. It hangs in the air, the stench of anger, mistrust, arrogance, frustration, even blood - something is brewing and the results will be catastrophic.
Ceausescu's regime however is still heavily present in
4 months, 3 weeks & 2 days, dominating the populace and ruling through fear and repression. The films modest story features Gabriela (
Laura Vasiliu), a young woman who seeks an abortion; an act illegal in Romania in an attempt to raise the birth rate, and her roommate Otilia (
Anamaria Marinca), who has helped arrange the procedure and secure the necessary funds. The power of this film lies in this simple premise, two young girls seeking help and being defiled and degraded at every turn, this is fierce film making without the tub thumping, without the political rhetoric, a simple matter of fact, warts and all storytelling.
Room mates, friends Gabrila and Otilia
Although it's Gabriela pregnancy that fuels the story our attention is focused on that of Otilia; the friend, and college room mate, who has selflessly volunteered to hold her friend's hand through the illegal abortion, as she borrows cash, arranges a hotel room and liaises with the abortionist Bebe (
Vlad Ivanov). It's made rather obvious that Gabriela by contrast to Otilia cannot cope, she's prone to getting things wrong and to sticking her head in the sand whereas Otilia is street wise and shrewd. I believe, and I could be wrong here, that there is only one time when we're not watching the action from Otilia's perspective (and for those who have not yet seen this film I will refrain from mentioning it here), but we still feel that moment as intently as if we were there.
It's those horrifying scenes in the hotel room, that's been suggested and hinted at in the scenes before, that the real hell of their situation reveals itself. A sense of abject horror, squalor and degradation seeps into almost every scene around this event. The character of Bebe, the sanctimonious, self-pitying, pompous illegal abortionist, is all the more horrific for the simple fact that he 'must have' existed. The tension between the two girls and Bebe as they haggle over money, knowing where this will inevitably lead, brings home the notion of what living in a totalitarian state has done to its society with it's continuous series of little, everyday people, looking for the merest smidgen of power somehow compensating for their own miserable existence.
(from left to right) Bebe, Otilia and Gabriela in the hotel room
Munigu style is raw yet skillful, restrained and respectful of its subject, he strips everything down, shooting scenes in one take, the camera either remaining steady as characters pass in and out of the frame, or trailing them as they walk yet only focusing on what's essential. Scenes with gaping holes one moment are then filled with a looming presence a second later, taking up the entire frame. The sense of claustrophobia continues throughout, even when outside; especially that end sequence when the intensity of sound and space raise the tension to that on a par with Hitchcock. Rarely has the depiction of living in the Eastern bloc been so stark and ugly, so thoroughly captivating but repulsive.
The Deserved winner of the
Palme d'or in 2007, Mungiu has created a masterpiece of intimate desperation, a film which will long resonate with it honest, bracing and unflinching narrative; a real compassionate work of art. No review of this film would be complete however without acknowledging the performance of Anamaria Marinca. You can hardly takes your eyes of her, she encompasses the whole of Romania in those sad and too old for her age eyes, that withered forlorn expression of daily humiliation and repressed anger. After her ordeal in the hotel room the anger is frightening, waiting to explode with venom she vomits in the street before gathering herself and walking on in vain. Her rage is of the stuff that fueled that revolution in 1989.
Watch a mere snippet of this captivating film
Originally posted on:
Film for the Soul