DOI issue:
Nr. 1
DOI article:Maxim, Juliana: Downcast colossus: communist architecture in Romania's post-communist cinema
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.51715#0019
perhaps, as a necessary remedy to the generalized
distrust toward représentation.
Even a cursory comparison between Ulysses’ Gape
and these Romanian films illustrâtes well the particu-
lar tone one finds throughout the latter. Like the Ro-
manian films, the Greek one also offers a sustained
reflection on the communist past and the shadows
it casts over the present, but, as it becomes apparent
in the clip in which Lenin slides away on the Dan-
ube, Angelopoulos’ manner and narrative are broad,
mournful, and epic. By contrast, the Romanian films
use the language of the quotidian, and emphasize the
banality in which totalitarianism came wrapped. As
in Angelopoulos, there are also plenty of long trav-
elling shots. In Porumboiu’s 12:08 East of Tucharest,
for instance, we follow the protagonist not through
a mythic journey, but through potholed streets with
a Christmas tree precariously tied on the top of his
battered car [Fig. 8]. In 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days,
the caméra follows Otilia not through awe-inspiring
landscapes, but, for instance, through a poorly-lit
and décrépit dorm; in her journey, she intersects
not national borders and historie figures, but two
shabby Street dogs. “Šuntem niste nenorociti de oameni,
domnuleE (fWe are butpoor wretches, sir!”) says a bitter
Mr. Läzärescu in The Death of Mr. Eäyärescu. In these
films, the Romanian directors tacitly argue that the
gritty, unmemorable texture of the characters’ lives
brings us doser to the expérience of communism
than grand historical perspectives, and that truth is
to be found in the everyday and its oddities.
Therefore, I believe small budgets were not the
only, and not even the main motivation behind the
minimalism and cinéma-vérité quality of these films.
Ways to make do with little, of adapting to scarcity
and difficulties, not only shape their cinematography
but also constitute their main story, told over and
over again, in a thousand guises. These films are ail
about minor strategies of survival, moments when
individual circumstances and sweeping state ideology
tangle with each other, and when ordinariness cornes
in contact with the transcendence of the colossus.
The Everyday, or the Colossus’ Defeat
By approaching totalitarianism not in abstract
political terms, but through an investigation of the
rituals of everyday life, the films fall in the wake
8. Through the streets of the town of Vaslui. Still from 12:08 East
of Bucharest, 2006, dir. Corneliu Porumhoiu. Photo: Archive of the
author.
of a literary genre that tackles ponderous thèmes
through eyes of an ordinary person, one used
so potently and paradigmatically, for instance, by
Solzhenitsyn in One Dayy in the Eife of Ivan Denisovich.
In many ways, Otilia in 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and2 Days,
or Mr. Läzärescu in The Death of Mr. Eâfarescu, are
versions of Ivan Denisovich, and so are the three
main characters in 12:08 East of Tuch arest. The
communist city is, in milder terms, their gulag, and
we follow them through the arc of one day, as the
authoritarian régime or its aftermath affects every
one of their actions and lodges in every fold of their
thoughts. Like in Solzhenitsyn, the films reveal the
overwhelming, even despotic hold that minor needs
exert on those living under communism, and the
enormous amount of energy one had to devote to
their fulfillment. It is not outright hunger or cold that
grind down the characters, but the constant concern
for finding provisions, preserving them for the win-
ter, staying attuned to when the next batch of hot
water will be delivered to the apartment building and
making the most of it, money worries, the complex
art of bribing, and a thousand other small tasks that
control their days as tightly as in a forced labor camp.
Cristi Puiu, both in The Death of Mr. Eâfarescu and
in Cigarettes and Coffee, is the master narrator of the
endless vexations and indignities one had to endure,
in the late years of Romanian communism, in every
practical pursuit. In ail these films, we are peering at
the colossus from very close, taking in the dust, the
irregularities of its surface, the hidden joints, rather
than the grandeur of the silhouette.
13
distrust toward représentation.
Even a cursory comparison between Ulysses’ Gape
and these Romanian films illustrâtes well the particu-
lar tone one finds throughout the latter. Like the Ro-
manian films, the Greek one also offers a sustained
reflection on the communist past and the shadows
it casts over the present, but, as it becomes apparent
in the clip in which Lenin slides away on the Dan-
ube, Angelopoulos’ manner and narrative are broad,
mournful, and epic. By contrast, the Romanian films
use the language of the quotidian, and emphasize the
banality in which totalitarianism came wrapped. As
in Angelopoulos, there are also plenty of long trav-
elling shots. In Porumboiu’s 12:08 East of Tucharest,
for instance, we follow the protagonist not through
a mythic journey, but through potholed streets with
a Christmas tree precariously tied on the top of his
battered car [Fig. 8]. In 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days,
the caméra follows Otilia not through awe-inspiring
landscapes, but, for instance, through a poorly-lit
and décrépit dorm; in her journey, she intersects
not national borders and historie figures, but two
shabby Street dogs. “Šuntem niste nenorociti de oameni,
domnuleE (fWe are butpoor wretches, sir!”) says a bitter
Mr. Läzärescu in The Death of Mr. Eäyärescu. In these
films, the Romanian directors tacitly argue that the
gritty, unmemorable texture of the characters’ lives
brings us doser to the expérience of communism
than grand historical perspectives, and that truth is
to be found in the everyday and its oddities.
Therefore, I believe small budgets were not the
only, and not even the main motivation behind the
minimalism and cinéma-vérité quality of these films.
Ways to make do with little, of adapting to scarcity
and difficulties, not only shape their cinematography
but also constitute their main story, told over and
over again, in a thousand guises. These films are ail
about minor strategies of survival, moments when
individual circumstances and sweeping state ideology
tangle with each other, and when ordinariness cornes
in contact with the transcendence of the colossus.
The Everyday, or the Colossus’ Defeat
By approaching totalitarianism not in abstract
political terms, but through an investigation of the
rituals of everyday life, the films fall in the wake
8. Through the streets of the town of Vaslui. Still from 12:08 East
of Bucharest, 2006, dir. Corneliu Porumhoiu. Photo: Archive of the
author.
of a literary genre that tackles ponderous thèmes
through eyes of an ordinary person, one used
so potently and paradigmatically, for instance, by
Solzhenitsyn in One Dayy in the Eife of Ivan Denisovich.
In many ways, Otilia in 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and2 Days,
or Mr. Läzärescu in The Death of Mr. Eâfarescu, are
versions of Ivan Denisovich, and so are the three
main characters in 12:08 East of Tuch arest. The
communist city is, in milder terms, their gulag, and
we follow them through the arc of one day, as the
authoritarian régime or its aftermath affects every
one of their actions and lodges in every fold of their
thoughts. Like in Solzhenitsyn, the films reveal the
overwhelming, even despotic hold that minor needs
exert on those living under communism, and the
enormous amount of energy one had to devote to
their fulfillment. It is not outright hunger or cold that
grind down the characters, but the constant concern
for finding provisions, preserving them for the win-
ter, staying attuned to when the next batch of hot
water will be delivered to the apartment building and
making the most of it, money worries, the complex
art of bribing, and a thousand other small tasks that
control their days as tightly as in a forced labor camp.
Cristi Puiu, both in The Death of Mr. Eâfarescu and
in Cigarettes and Coffee, is the master narrator of the
endless vexations and indignities one had to endure,
in the late years of Romanian communism, in every
practical pursuit. In ail these films, we are peering at
the colossus from very close, taking in the dust, the
irregularities of its surface, the hidden joints, rather
than the grandeur of the silhouette.
13