Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn (Babardeala cu bucluc sau porno balamuc)

 

Writer/director Radu Jude

BAD LUCK BANGING OR LOONY PORN (Babardeala cu bucluc sau porno balamuc)  B   Romania  Luxembourg  Czech Republic  Croatia  Switzerland  Great Britain  (106 mi)  2021  ‘Scope  d:  Radu Jude

Bucharest in the year of Covid, a wildly provocative and controversial a film, sure to inspire hisses and groans, yet also uncontrollable laughter, as this rather demented, in-your-face entry into the Berlin Film Fest took away the Golden Bear for Best Film at the first-ever virtual event, where winners offered their congratulation thoughts by Zoom afterwards.  Coming on the heels of I Don't Care if We Go Down in History as Barbarians (Îmi este indiferent daca în istorie vom intra ca barbari) (2018), where a Romanian filmmaker held his own country accountable for what happened during the war, as Romania was complicit in the Holocaust with anti-Semitic Nazi war crimes, responsible for the killing of more Jews than any other country except Germany, yet the nation would prefer to overlook those tiny details, still viewing their military heroes with reverence, with the director claiming it was taboo to even speak about this subject when he was growing up, resorting to comic sarcasm and absurd black comedy, as in Romania the door has opened for more far-right nationalists to push anti-Semitic hate speech among their xenophobic rhetoric.  But that seems mild compared to this film, which opens with an X-rated sex scene that has been censored for American distribution, placing a full-screen block over the material with comic book style wording that reveals what you’re missing, yet few scenes are more absurd than a woman hilariously attempting to carry on a conversation with someone in the next room while delivering a blow job.  Adding the presence of whips, spicy language, dirty talk, and edgy, salacious material only whips audiences into a frenzy, where at the moment, only iTunes carries an uncensored version in America.  This raises an interesting question for today’s society, as what’s worse, porn or genocide?  Explicit violence is routinely shown on television, yet nudity is not, revealing the moral hypocrisy of our own media standards, as nudity sparks public outrage, while no one has any problem with murder or genocide, which often lead the nightly news broadcasts.  Often pointing to the protection of children, apparently showing them nudity is far more harmful than escalating degrees of extreme violence.  But the central premise may be moral hypocrisy, recalling the societal satire of Luis Buñuel, or Godard’s philosophical rants in Two or Three Things I Know About Her (2 ou 3 Choses que Je Sais d’Elle) (1967), where according to Screendaily’s Jonathan Romney ('Bad Luck Banging Or Loony Porn': Berlin Review - Screen Daily), “The real pornography that has overrun Romania, it seems, is the obscenity of capitalism.”  Resorting to an almost Monty Python comic tone, the exaggerated satiric style is often hard to digest, as much of this is presented fast and furious at a relentless pace, where mocking laughter can frequently be heard on the audio soundtrack.  One of the few films depicting a society wearing masks during the Covid crisis, including the lead character, Emi Cilibiu (Katia Pascariu), who ironically played a nun in Mungiu’s Beyond the Hills (După dealuri) (2012), a history teacher at a prominent “Oxford quality” high school for the Romanian elite, seen in the opening having baudy sex with her husband comically set to the music of “Lili Marlene,” 1939 Lale Andersen - Lili Marlene (original German version) YouTube (3:12), a sentimental German love song co-opted by the Nazis during the war, with the husband uploading the sex tape to his phone, creating a public scandal when the tape is leaked from a private web site and the pornographic video starts appearing on various Internet sites, with parents and students outraged at what they see.  Emi is quickly informed that there will be an impromptu parent-teacher meeting later that evening to decide the fate of her teaching career, an event that hangs over her head for the rest of the day. 

Broken down into three segments, the detached and overly somber first reveals Emi wandering through the streets of Bucharest, a kind of scriptless cinéma vérité montage as she wanders in and out of various stores, blending into street traffic and pedestrians, occasionally talking to her husband on the phone, only to receive more bad news, as a series of phone calls suggest that the situation is escalating out of her control, as all attempts to take down the video have failed, eventually walking into a neighborhood pharmacy asking for a single Xanax pill, as she’s suffering from a particularly bad day.  They refuse to fill the prescription without a doctor’s order, but offer her a plant-based alternative instead, which she gladly takes at an outdoor coffee café.  An underlying angst is felt throughout this segment, with the camera often cutting away, finding something else that grabs one’s attention, before relocating Emi meeting overly rude or violently angry men that seem to be thinking only of themselves, blocking sidewalks in their monster cars or yelling obscenities at anyone who objects.  This overriding sense of entitlement via aggression seems to pervade throughout Bucharest, reminiscent of Ulrich Seidl’s take on Vienna in DOG DAYS (2001), revealing characters who are either bigoted, small-minded, or just plain revolting, with an angry motorist deliberately running over a pedestrian who claims to have the right of way, where it’s impossible to tell which is spreading faster, the Covid virus or the pervasive spread of intolerance.  The second narrative-free segment is entitled Short Dictionary of Anecdotes, Signs and Wonders, offering a series of caustic observations that alternate between witty remarks and damning facts, like a malicious human collage of collective stupidity, a surreal audiovisual montage not seen since the days of Dušan Makavejev in WR: MYSTERIES OF THE ORGANISM (1971), or SWEET MOVIE (1974), though his earliest films Man Is Not a Bird (1965) and Love Affair, or The Case of the Missing Switchboard Operator (1967) show irreverent signs of living behind the Iron Curtain, becoming a cinema manifesto on the paradox of living in Romania, often contrasting the communist past with its capitalist present.  Using something of a subversive comic book tone, a Romanian Mad magazine, the film pokes fun at Ceaușescu and the former communist state, using a multitude of archival footage, where one scene shows little kids gathered together singing fascist songs that glorify nationalist patriotism through war, which is entitled “Children, political prisoners of their parents.”  After Ceauşescu banned abortion in 1965 (just legalized in 1957), Romania saw the highest maternal and infant mortality rates in all of Europe, followed by the prevalence of dangerous black market abortions, which was well documented by Cristian Mungiu’s Palme d’Or winning film 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days (4 luni, 3 saptamâni si 2 zile) (2007).  If that’s not enough, there’s a follow-up sequence informing viewers just how strongly the Romanian Orthodox Church supported the ultra-right fascist state and the atrocities they committed, informing us that during the 1989 Romanian revolution to overthrow Ceaușescu, “when revolutionaries sought shelter from Army bullets, the cathedral kept its doors closed,” with footage of nuns happily singing fascist songs.  These sequences leave brief imprints in the minds of viewers, recalling what it was like to grow up in Eastern European countries, particularly under the dictatorial authority of Ceaușescu.  Jude even pokes fun at history, and capitalism, revealing how the French and Romanian Revolutions have become commercial brands of cigarettes and wine.  In a contemporary sequence, farmers are seen dancing during the pandemic, yet maintaining social distancing by holding long sticks between them.  There are curious references to the early days of pornography in cinema, while also documenting that “blowjob” is the most-searched word in the Romanian Internet Dictionary, while the subject of rape is culturally skewed, with statistics highlighting a male-dominated culture that continues to maintain a backwards view of women, still seen as subservient to the needs of men, who maintain their right to take “what is theirs” by force, as apparently 55% of Romanians believe rape is justified in some instances, such as women wearing provocative clothing.  Since the fall of Ceaușescu in 1989, there has been a growing sentiment of hatred towards minorities and the disadvantaged with each passing year, suggesting that Romania lives in a Darwinian universe where only the strongest survives.  Perhaps unsurprisingly, we learn that six out of ten Romanian children experience physical abuse at home.    

In the style of a chamber play, the parent-teacher meeting of the third segment takes place in an outdoor schoolyard setting, due to Covid restrictions, reminiscent of Abderrahmane Sissako’s film BAMAKO (2006), where an African Truth and Justice commission places war criminals on trial in an outdoor setting where neighborhood people can drop by and linger while listening to the testimony.  In this sequence, Emi faces her accusers, all wearing a variety of masks, who offer condemnation for her shocking video which is played in its entirety before the mingling crowd, each coming closer to get a better look, particularly the men, with one man leering at the projected images before the full force of the community weighs against her, calling her a porn star, a harlot, a whore, and all manner of shunned creatures that have no business teaching their children.  Emi strenuously defends herself, claiming she neither put the recording on the Internet, nor distributed it, claiming what she does on her own time is private, as the video represents consensual acts between two married people, then questioning why children have access to adult websites where they are strictly forbidden.  As a teacher she has an impeccable record, with an excellent relationship with the students in her class, but the jury of parents takes on the picture of an eclectic social group, consisting of a priest, an intellectual, a police officer, a military figure, an airline pilot, a diplomat, a career woman, even a Czech émigré who out of nowhere spews some commentary on Václav Havel.  Hounded for her immorality and incredible bad taste, she is barraged by a series of insults, called every name in the book, with the assembled mob taking on a lynch mob mentality, where she is guilty even if facts prove otherwise.  As this mock trial goes on, it becomes a savage indictment of Romanian society, as it deviates into different detours along the way, with parents questioning some of her lesson assignments, promoting “Jewish lies about the Holocaust,” suggesting she may be indoctrinating the children by revealing Romania’s complicity with the Nazi’s during the Holocaust, something they refuse to believe, visibly obsessed with pre-modern ideas on what is considered acceptable class content, harkening back to the pre-Ceaușescu days when they attended school, which plays into Emi’s hands, as she defends herself well, even re-iterating some saucy language written by Romania’s national poet Mihai Eminescu (whose domineering bust sits behind Emi, continually seen being polished by a cleaning woman), quoting one of his verses from memory, which the gathering throng describes as a blatant lie, claiming she’s making it all up.  The intellectual pulls out a strong defense about what’s in the best interest of children, offering lengthy quotes from his phone to support her position, where the director offers an enlightened position, turning this into an intellectual discussion on education that is quite provocative, but then someone will complain about a particular class assignment that required excessive memorization, where she has to defend her teaching methods, quoting the benefits to the developing mind, even if the passages are forgotten after a while.  There are accusations that she’s anti-Antonescu, who presided over a period of authoritarian dictatorship, yet still beloved by the military, even if his fascist and anti-Semitic methods are frowned upon today, with the parents mirroring the prejudices of Romanian society, particularly their outright hatred of Jews, Gypsies, and gays.  What this turns into is a rather exhilarating discussion of ideas, referencing Hannah Arendt and Isaac Babel, yet the shameful name-calling brings the discussion back down to earth, refusing to consider her actual qualities, concluding she’s too morally indecent to teach their precious children. The film has three different endings, none of them good, as each plays out as a version of the truth, yet the distinctive differences add a humorous element of exaggeration and farce, making something of a mockery of the idea of a public trial, turning the teacher into a super hero who implements her own brand of justice.  The director tries to show that sex is a part of life, just like war, public discourse, consumerism, and Covid, where this film succinctly summarizes the culture wars that are currently being fought in a number of Eastern European countries, with the urban elites defending all the achievements of liberal democracies since the 1990’s, yet there is also a regressive wing that prefers a heavier hand of authority, with Romania experiencing a far-right resurgence, opening the door for the more rigidly dogmatic politics from the communist era, yet few films expose what’s happening in contemporary Romania better than Alexander Nanau’s Collective (Colectiv) (2019).   

Sieranevada

SIERANEVADA                  B                                

Romania  France  Croatia  Macedonia  Bosnia-Herzegovina  (176 mi)  2016  d:  Cristi Puiu

Romanian director Cristi Puiu, the writer/director of the acclaimed film THE DEATH OF MR. LAZARESCU (2007), has roots that can be traced back to Eugène Ionesco’s theater of the absurd, and while his earlier film was a scathing indictment of the indifference of the antiquated health care system, this is an altogether different animal.  Anyone who has dreaded the obligatory invite to large family dinners will have a field day with this film, as it is the family dinner from hell, easily one of the funniest films of the year, feeling more like Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, as it’s the meal that never comes, but is constantly referenced in conversation by nearly everyone as the very next event to happen, yet the characters are curiously stuck in a purgatory of paralysis, like Buñuel’s THE EXTERMINATING ANGEL (1962), where something that can go wrong does go wrong, creating an amazingly synchronized tour de force of both camera movement (by Barbu Balasoiu), seemingly swiveling from a central corridor in a family apartment yet pointing in all directions, often stuck behind closed doors where something sinister is happening, or the door swings open and we hear every single word of a full-blown argument, where the precision of the verbal assault has literally wounded someone into a swooning spell, knocked completely off their feet, or something equally paralyzing, yet also there is a continual eruption of non-stop dialogue, like a percussive symphony of voices, where the relentless pace of the director’s screwball comedy timing is impeccable.  Romanian filmmakers have a thing about language, where their art preserves something unique about their society, where they don’t wish to excise a single word, which might explain the nearly three-hour length of this drama, which feels more like a well-written play.  The formal audaciousness of Puiu’s sophisticated balance of camera movement and sound, however, recalls a similar complexity from the films of Dziga Vertov, the so-called father of cinéma vérité, using a complex editing scheme to maximize the impact of the drama.  What Puiu adds to this equation are some of his nation’s best actors, displaying naturalism with a remarkable stylistic flair.

Some may not find the content all that elevating, though it’s never less than entertaining and at times is drop dead hilarious, but the conversational material itself is mired in opinionated views, old habits, hearsay, prejudices, rumors, gossip, jealousy, conspiracy theories, questionable information gleaned from the Internet, and even personal threats, where it seems to probe the banality of human existence at every turn.  The film is a comic satire on the supposed dark cloud hanging over the rising middle class after the fall of Nicolae Ceaușescu in 1989, which spelled the end of the communist era in Romania, where a younger generation is wealthier, more educated, with plenty more opportunities than their parents and grandparents who remain products of an old, failed totalitarian system that is now viewed as a disgrace.  But while they have been part of the European Union since 2007 and can afford more things, like cars, modern appliances, or televisions in nearly every apartment, they also have short memories, as there is no recollection of how life was lived prior to 1989.  When parents or grandparents remind them, they may as well be from another planet, showing little gratitude for the oppression and misery that they withstood, as the Romanian standard of living was near the bottom of the former Soviet bloc countries.  The film examines what freedom has brought to the nation, where the wintry streets of Bucharest seem mired in traffic jams and petty squabbles, with graffiti on the walls of housing units, while the family unit remains a picture of dysfunction.  Opening with parents dropping off their young daughter for a dance rehearsal, they double-park on a narrow street, leaving their car unattended, where tempers erupt when they block any oncoming traffic, unnecessarily instigating a chaotic roadside obstacle that angers the back-up of cars that can’t get through, creating a picture of urban malaise, where we can’t hear what’s being spoken, but see the obvious confusion in a brilliantly choreographed comedy of errors.  Once they finally get back in the car, instead of peace and quiet, we hear Lari (Mimi Branescu) and his wife Laura (Catalina Moga) bicker about the costume he purchased for his daughter, as it’s all wrong for the show, where he preferred the Brothers Grimm approach for a Disney production, but as she rightly points out, the Grimms had nothing to do with Mulan, so his indifference to what she actually needs only puts added pressure on their daughter, who doesn’t have an appropriate costume to wear.  This serves as a prelude for what’s to come, as they’re already late for a family dinner.

Once inside, it’s like we’ve been dropped in the middle of a Russian novel, as we are introduced to more than a dozen characters, some who just drop in or out, with no regard for establishing names and relationships, that will continue to be baffling to the audience throughout.   Everything is on hold as they are waiting for the priest to arrive, as he’s been delayed or is stuck in traffic, and they can’t eat until he gets there.  Making things more ambiguous, initially we have no idea what the occasion is that is bringing the family together.  Is it a christening, a baptism, a birthday, a marriage, a newborn, or a death in the family?  No one offers a clue.  Instead, it’s a choreography of doors swinging open and closed, with women cooking in the kitchen while characters are constantly on the move throughout the rooms, sometimes standing in the hallway, creating a claustrophobic effect of something that’s about to happen, but everyone’s on hold.  Typically, they resort to bickering, creating a master class of confusion, with Larry’s mother Nusa (Dana Dogaru) tasting the boiled cabbage to make sure it’s right, but she also seems to be the guiding force behind adhering to the practices of an Eastern Orthodox religion.  Without her, everyone would be at a loss.  More than an hour in, we decipher that this is a memorial service for her recently deceased husband, where a clue is observing a suit that’s been laid out for him on the bed, but there’s no body.  Food is everywhere, borscht and chorba (is there a difference?), cabbage rolls and polenta, where there’s enough to feed an army, yet no one’s allowed to eat.  That doesn’t stop Lari and others from constantly picking at what they can while they wait.  While we hear 9/11 conspiracy theories, blaming Bush for playing a part in the tragedy, all apparently downloaded from the Internet, yet no one mentions who or what brought them all together.  Easily the funniest character is Evelina (Tatiana Iekel), a grandmother who lords over the other younger woman by professing nostalgia and true admiration for the Ceaușescu era, which she fondly recollects as the good old days, being a party member in good standing, where she recounts all the good work that created a better life for these younger woman and their families, which is more than an earful for the rest to endure, as everyone seems to despise her views, especially since they’ve had to endure it throughout the entire cooking process.  Eventually breaking into tears is the only thing that stops the old woman, with everyone whispering what rot behind her back, though she appears to be dressed for a formal dinner with the Czar, wearing one of those Russian fur hats worn by grande dames to the opera.  It’s a good two hours before the priest finally arrives, walking around every room offering blessings for just about everything.  While you’d think this would open the floodgates, as people are famished.  Not so soon.  If emotions were stirring while waiting for the priest to arrive, they grow even nastier after he leaves. 

Enter Tony (Sorin Medeleni), rat bastard husband of Nusa’s sister Ofelia (Ana Ciontea), who’s been accused of sleeping around with someone else’s wife, and pounding someone into the pavement for the mere mention of it.  No one wants to let him in, but he’s let in anyway, as it’s fitting for the occasion.  Despite the gracious offer, he’s a low-life that belligerently starts terrorizing his wife and anyone that sides with her, creating a manic disturbance just as they’re about to settle down for dinner.  The aptly named Ofelia breaks into a melodramatic fit and nearly faints, lying on the couch with Nusa fanning her back to life.  Suddenly it’s high drama, with exaggerated charges and counter charges, where the event has unraveled in discord and vicious rumors, yet it’s the kind of thing that happens at family affairs whether you like it or not.  Accusations are leveled, people’s feelings are hurt, and someone comes to their rescue, while various family members gravitate to the individual sides to gain insight, offer advice, and try to calm things down.  Women seem to huddle together while the men do the same, a custom apparently that goes back to the caveman era.  Of course nothing gets resolved, but Ofelia gets to itemize all the things she finds repulsive and disgusting about Tony, including graphic descriptions of sexual acts he allegedly committed, where his character suggests he’s done all that and more, yet he’s still a member of the family, and they’re all in it together.  Lingering resentment is everywhere, with ridicule flying in every direction, where instead of full-fledged arguments with parties screaming back and forth, they seem to gnaw at one another, pick at open wounds, and then just dig a little deeper.  In the middle of this sordid affair, Lari gets a phone call, as he and Laura leave together temporarily, creating yet another traffic disturbance, this time with more violent overtones, where both he and Laura are pushed, shoved, punched at, and threatened, though somehow they survive the onslaught.  Having a moment to themselves in the car, they internalize how they view the day’s events, suggesting Lari’s father was no saint himself, bringing dishonor and shame to his wife and family, who are now in the process of honoring him.  As if God had struck him down with a lightning bolt, the heavenly powers are creating havoc with the day’s events playing out in real time, where we can only sense from afar just how deep some of the problems are.  Dark truths emerge from the family’s past, grievances are aired, yet the eruptive forces of rage, accusations, absurdities and laughter seem to have opened everyone’s eyes, releasing some of the tension, creating a temporary lull in the action, yet is it just a mirage, surrounded by more of the same?  Meanwhile, the table is set, food is served, but only a meager few are eating, as the rest are once again embroiled in yet another turmoil happening in another room.  None of this feels earthshaking, where except for Lari in the car speaking quietly about his father, there’s little in the way of a cathartic emotional release where some degree of confessional truth or honesty comes into play, instead, there’s scant evidence anything ever gets resolved.  While aggravation is the driving force behind the drama, with characters forever forced to wait, and then wait some more, perhaps in the end they just get more used to one other after wearing each other down.  It’s a grim picture of the oppressive forces surrounding us, where life is viewed in Sisyphean terms as an endless altercation of unhappy families, filled with a build-up of psychological damage apparently learned early on from childhood that we carry into our adult lives, suggesting there is an extraordinary amount of Romanian discontent, with few solutions in the works.  

Meanwhile, perhaps a few simple instructions about parking in congested urban areas…