To be alive and writing about film during what many have rightfully deemed a new wave of Romanian cinema makes it something of a burden to separate the merits and intricacies of each film from the propulsive energy exuded by the movement as a whole. When lesser entries, such as this year's If I Want to Whistle, I Whistle or Bogdan George Apetri's yet-to-be-released Outbound, come along and don't live up to the half-dozen or so masterpieces that have come out of Romania in the past five years or so, gut instinct tells me to accentuate the positive, which is all well and good until an out-and-out dud hits the streets. There have been not completely unconvincing arguments made that Whistle was that dud, which I ultimately don't agree with, and some even argue that Radu Muntean's stirring Tuesday, After Christmas and the new omnibus feature, Tales from the Golden Age, are clear indicators that the Romanian New Wave is no longer worthy of the special focus it has received since the release of Cristi Puiu's miraculous The Death of Mr. Lazarescu in 2006.
Though I can somewhat grapple with the arguments against Mr. Muntean's film, what with its dull tones, long takes, and lack of anything even remotely resembling exposition, it is hard to comprehend a mindset that wouldn't be entertained and invigorated by the six shorts that make up Tales from the Golden Age. Made up of "legends" told throughout Romania's "Golden Age", which essentially covers the majority of Ceausescu's reign, Tales from the Golden Age luxuriates in a melancholic yet deeply funny tone that remains consistent throughout, despite the fact that five different directors worked on it. MVP honors go to Cristian Mungiu, the helmer of 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, who wrote all six segments and directed two, though it remains largely unclear who directed which legend. Regardless, Hanno Hofer, Constantin Popescu, Ioana Uricaru and Razvan Marculescu deserve similar credit for anchoring the segments in a similar, droll aesthetic.
Each story explores a unique chapter in the suffering of the Romanian people, largely economic though not without its emotional and sociological tolls, but the film is also unified by a sense of resounding despair colliding with stunning ineptitude and corruption. The most effective story, "The Legend of the Chicken Driver", concerns a truck driver for a livestock company searching for attention, lust, and love from a restaurant owner who just appreciates an extra load of eggs. Here, desperation pervades every character and we see not only how Communism bred an instinctual materialism in people but also forced them into an enterprise that is largely criminal. Similar readings can be drawn from "The Legend of the Air Sellers", about a Bonnie and Clyde couple who con people out of their water bottles and sell them to local depositories, and "The Legend of the Greedy Policeman", in which the eponymous porker has trouble devising the proper way of killing a Christmas swine without drawing the attention of neighbors or the police. The crimes are rightfully depicted as absurdist schtick done in the name of thoughtlessly bureaucratic overlords, but the rage so easily perceptible in the film's undercurrent never outdoes the film's pitch-black sense of humor.
Whereas the entire film has the energy and goofy bombast reminiscent of the Polish and Czech New Wave movements, each individual film displays unique, often fascinating directorial choices and influences. The chicken driver might as well have walked out of an Aki Kaurismaki picture and there are notes of Fellini and Godot in the oddly joyous conclusion of "The Legend of the Official Visit", in which a small town goes through uproarious changes in the veneer to appease a passing motorcade that never comes. The story of a young man trying to cure illiteracy in a small, poverty-stricken town is told in "The Legend of the Zealous Activist" and there is more than a passing resemblance to Albert Brooks in its nervy humor. And though "Activist" is essentially the least interesting moment of the film, the sense of composition, color and mood remain at an even pitch, making the shortest segments ("Activist", "The Legend of the Party Photographer") play out like extended excursions that stick out and yet remain part of the whole.
Oddly enough, Tales from the Golden Age can ostensibly be seen as companion piece to the upcoming Autobiography of Nicolae Ceausescu, a titanic and terrific assemblage of footage from public appearances by Ceausescu that doubles as a behavioral study of a weak, corrupt leader. Made by artists who spent their formative years under the cloak of Communism, Tales from the Golden Age stems at once from a place of truth and denial. One's natural reaction may be startled disbelief at what is being depicted, which makes the realities of the time period all the more elusive and troubling.
Though I can somewhat grapple with the arguments against Mr. Muntean's film, what with its dull tones, long takes, and lack of anything even remotely resembling exposition, it is hard to comprehend a mindset that wouldn't be entertained and invigorated by the six shorts that make up Tales from the Golden Age. Made up of "legends" told throughout Romania's "Golden Age", which essentially covers the majority of Ceausescu's reign, Tales from the Golden Age luxuriates in a melancholic yet deeply funny tone that remains consistent throughout, despite the fact that five different directors worked on it. MVP honors go to Cristian Mungiu, the helmer of 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, who wrote all six segments and directed two, though it remains largely unclear who directed which legend. Regardless, Hanno Hofer, Constantin Popescu, Ioana Uricaru and Razvan Marculescu deserve similar credit for anchoring the segments in a similar, droll aesthetic.
Each story explores a unique chapter in the suffering of the Romanian people, largely economic though not without its emotional and sociological tolls, but the film is also unified by a sense of resounding despair colliding with stunning ineptitude and corruption. The most effective story, "The Legend of the Chicken Driver", concerns a truck driver for a livestock company searching for attention, lust, and love from a restaurant owner who just appreciates an extra load of eggs. Here, desperation pervades every character and we see not only how Communism bred an instinctual materialism in people but also forced them into an enterprise that is largely criminal. Similar readings can be drawn from "The Legend of the Air Sellers", about a Bonnie and Clyde couple who con people out of their water bottles and sell them to local depositories, and "The Legend of the Greedy Policeman", in which the eponymous porker has trouble devising the proper way of killing a Christmas swine without drawing the attention of neighbors or the police. The crimes are rightfully depicted as absurdist schtick done in the name of thoughtlessly bureaucratic overlords, but the rage so easily perceptible in the film's undercurrent never outdoes the film's pitch-black sense of humor.
Whereas the entire film has the energy and goofy bombast reminiscent of the Polish and Czech New Wave movements, each individual film displays unique, often fascinating directorial choices and influences. The chicken driver might as well have walked out of an Aki Kaurismaki picture and there are notes of Fellini and Godot in the oddly joyous conclusion of "The Legend of the Official Visit", in which a small town goes through uproarious changes in the veneer to appease a passing motorcade that never comes. The story of a young man trying to cure illiteracy in a small, poverty-stricken town is told in "The Legend of the Zealous Activist" and there is more than a passing resemblance to Albert Brooks in its nervy humor. And though "Activist" is essentially the least interesting moment of the film, the sense of composition, color and mood remain at an even pitch, making the shortest segments ("Activist", "The Legend of the Party Photographer") play out like extended excursions that stick out and yet remain part of the whole.
Oddly enough, Tales from the Golden Age can ostensibly be seen as companion piece to the upcoming Autobiography of Nicolae Ceausescu, a titanic and terrific assemblage of footage from public appearances by Ceausescu that doubles as a behavioral study of a weak, corrupt leader. Made by artists who spent their formative years under the cloak of Communism, Tales from the Golden Age stems at once from a place of truth and denial. One's natural reaction may be startled disbelief at what is being depicted, which makes the realities of the time period all the more elusive and troubling.
