The Whistlers (La Gomera)

Director Corneliu Porumboiu

 



  

THE WHISTLERS (La Gomera)         B      

Romania  France  Germany  Sweden  (97 mi)  2019 ‘Scope  d:  Corneliu Porumboiu         

An interesting take on a genre film that is extremely entertaining, though repetitive at times, making an absurdist noir thriller that is meant to be playful and fun, from the opening notes of Iggy Pop - The Passenger – YouTube (4:44) that greets viewers at the start of the film, letting viewers know that they’re in for a wild ride.  From the maker of The Treasure (Comoara) (2015), and before that the deadpan comedies 12:08 EAST OF BUCHAREST (2006), winner at Cannes of the Caméra d’Or (Best First Film), and POLICE ADJECTIVE (2009), Jury Prize (2nd place) winner of Un Certain Regard, this director has built quite a following, most of whom will be thrilled with this new film, but it doesn’t rise to the heights of his earliest films.  Nonetheless it’s something to experience, if only for the wall-to-wall musical selections that come to define this adventure into behind-the-scenes government espionage, where there are more double crosses in this film than a lifetime of viewing other films, where the unexpected becomes the expected.  La Gomera is one of Spain’s Canary Islands, located in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Africa, catering to sophisticated resort living for the rich and wealthy, featuring stunning landscapes and ocean views.  Here it is an island of intrigue that greets our deadpan protagonist Cristi (Vlad Ivanov), brought to the island in order to infiltrate the mafia and recover 30 million Euros concealed inside a mysterious mattress manufactured in Bucharest, where his opening remarks upon reaching the shore is that he’s being followed, alerting viewers to strange and mysterious methods to avoid detection, namely showing the eavesdroppers what they want while hiding one’s real intentions.  Appropriately, the beautiful and curvaceous femme fatale Gilda (Catrinel Marlon, named after the infamous Rita Hayward film), is a dubious agent who sleeps with Cristi to avoid raising the suspicions of the officers surveilling his apartment, creating an alluring diversion.  “Forget what happened in Bucharest,” she tells him, but of course this only inflames his desire, but he must keep his real feelings hidden away from view.  He’s been brought to the island to learn an ancient whistling technique that has been used as an effective means to communicate across deep mountainous ravines, supposedly heard from as far away as two miles, though it requires intensive training for a novice.  Used by criminals to avoid police detection, Cristi needs a quick learn in order to get an important underworld figure out of prison, Zsolt (Sabin Tambrea), so his whereabouts throughout are largely concealed, requiring strict security measures to get wherever he needs to go.

While Cristi gives the appearance of freedom, he’s really a closely watched prisoner, though whatever entity he swears his allegiance to remains ambiguous throughout.  The hotel where he stays is notable for continuing to play recognizable opera arias nonstop, and when asked about it, thinking it might drive the customers away, their view is that it may enrich them, so viewers become intimately familiar with Maria Callas, Maria Callas "Casta Diva" Norma (Bellini) - Tullio Serafin ... YouTube (5:37).  One clever device is to introduce new characters with a color coded, neon title card revealing their name, as if giving them their own chapter, as the storyline swirls around these new faces, like Magda (Rodica Lazar), the Bucharest police chief tracking Cristi’s every move (the whistling is designed to keep her in the dark), Paco (Agusí Villaronga), an island mob boss under the mistaken belief that he’s in charge, or Kiko (Antonio Buíl), the whistling instructor who ends up biting off more than he can chew.  The film is a throwback to a golden era of cinema, drawing comparisons to THE BIG SLEEP (1946) with a largely incomprehensible plot that’s impossible to follow, though here it’s all in good fun, as Porumboiu loves to tread in murky waters, creating layers of bewildering intrigue punctuated by an infamous double or triple cross, where one’s allegiance is constantly shifting, making overt references to John Ford’s THE SEARCHERS (1956), even recreating the legendary shower scene in Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960), though when some unfortunate American filmmaker shows up at a secret warehouse location expressing an interest in shooting there, well, perhaps he was taken too literally as bullets quickly fly.  Between a jailbreak, a money laundering scheme, a suppressed romance, and having to contend with the mob for the money, Cristi is up to his ears in problems, yet he’s away from the everpresent gloom of Bucharest, ending up in the sunny climate of the Canary Islands, what could be so bad?  Well in this film, we’re about to find out, with Cristi playing both sides with little success, as mob underlings start paying a visit to Cristi’s mother (Julieta Szonyi), who’s suddenly thrown into the mix, inadvertently becoming one of the players, though she hasn’t a clue, as the storyline continually expands beyond borders into previously unexplored territory, all of which is fertile grounds for criminality. 

The most expensive film this director has ever made, it showcases distant lands along with stunning landscapes and architecture, beautifully shot by cinematographer Tudor Mircea, always devising clever ways to get to these faraway places, making fabulous use of colors and costumes, where the whistling technique travels well, effective even in urban areas, though you’d think these weird sounds would immediately put the cops on high alert, but they are continually befuddled.  Racing from one set piece to the next, this is a high-energy crime-caper mystery, using rotating characters that continually shift the emphasis of the story, leaving Cristi forever caught in the middle of it, never knowing who or what to believe, prompted by allies who conveniently call themselves friends, only to let him down in the end, creating a sketchy picture of the underworld and its inhabitants, with Ute Lemper providing the proper background filled with delicious exaggeration, Ute Lemper performs "Die Moritat von Meckie ... - YouTube (3:34).  Getting threatened, roughed up, and left for dead, he’s continually crawling out of a hole that he’s dug for himself, eventually running out of options, with violent overtones everywhere you look, including a lengthy shoot-out sequence that produces plenty of casualties, like a kind of urban war games, yet the stakes grow even higher in the countryside home of his mother.  When all appears lost, bloodied and bandaged and out of commission, the film takes an extremely strange turn at the Las Vegas-like Gardens by the Bay in Singapore, suddenly all aglow in fireworks and neon signs, becoming a majestic, show biz finale filled with superlatives, yet it feels like a magnificent ending for another film instead of this one, with our muted hero overshadowed by the awe-inspiring, heavily illuminated spectacle of the night that takes on a character of its own, almost unworldly, at odds with everything that came before.  It almost feels like it’s not real, perhaps the thoughts of one’s imagination, becoming a surreal extension of this mystifying cops and robbers film that takes a strange turn into matters of the heart, like a wish-fulfillment, or the answer to one’s dreams.  Whatever you make of it, it’s immensely watchable, with musical superlatives shifting from the serene calm of Johann Strauss II - The Blue Danube [1080p] - YouTube (9:48) to a thunderous chorus of Carl Orff, ORFF Carmina Burana « O Fortuna » - YouTube (2:50), yet driven by a rousing overture from Offenbach: Orpheus in the Underworld - Overture – YouTube (9:29), creating a delirious final spectacle that will likely please any audience.  

The Treasure (Comoara)

The Treasure (Comoara)          B                             

Romania  France  (89 mi)  2015  ‘Scope  d:  Corneliu Porumboiu

A simple story, but cleverly told, one where the audience continually provides different outcomes in their heads as the story plays out, where our thoughts of what might have happened may actually be far more intriguing than what eventually does, but the director provides the time and space for these audience thoughts to develop.  Each individual will likely have a differing response to this film, which appears to be the sly intent of Corneliu Porumboiu, Romanian director of absurd deadpan comedies 12:08 EAST OF BUCHAREST (2006), winner of the Caméra d’Or (Best First Film), and POLICE ADJECTIVE (2009), Jury Prize (2nd place) winner of Un Certain Regard.  With THE TREASURE, his third film to premiere at Cannes and winner of the Un Certain Regard Talent Prize, this slight moral tale is once again set in the social realist milieu typical of Romanian films, where a droll family drama turns into a wild goose chase about the obsessions that take hold when breaking out of the suffocating restrictions of bureaucratic conformity and following one’s dreams.  Costi (Cuzin Toma) is an ordinary everyman, seen reading a bedtime story to his six-year old son, which is an illustrated version of The Adventures of Robin Hood, a fairy tale that is likely to produce wild dreams of heroism in the imagination of a young boy.  However, this routine is interrupted when a neighbor knocks on the door needing to speak to him.  Adrian (Adrian Purcărescu) needs to borrow money, explaining his publishing business has gone under and he’s on the verge of losing his home.  The two get into a detailed discussion on fixed mortgage rates that homeowners around the world can relate to, especially the differing interest rates applied to each owner, where Adrian got unlucky, as his interest rates are twice that of Costi.  Sympathizing with his plight, Costi is a civil servant without much wiggle room when it comes to paying bills, so he politely indicates “Sorry, neighbor, but there is nothing I can do,” and goes back to the bedtime story with his eagerly waiting son.  Again there is a knock on the door as the neighbor has returned, this time indicating it has nothing to do with mortgage payments, which he’s avoided paying for several years, but rather the cost to hire a professional metal detector, claiming there is a hidden treasure concealed somewhere in the backyard garden of a house owned by his grandfather, which he was forced to hide when the communists arrived in 1944, and died before he had a chance to retrieve it.  While hard to believe, with scant evidence to support this theory, Adrian offers him half of whatever they uncover.

While the audience remains skeptical, sensing little more than a home grown fairy tale, nonetheless Costi discusses the proposition with his wife, who learns the land is located near the 1848 Proclamation of Islaz, a historical site in Romanian history when they attempted to break away from Russian and Ottoman authorities, increasing the chances of finding something worthwhile.  From his humdrum job at work, sitting at a desk with an obligatory computer, we begin to see what a stifling existence he must lead with a life defined by the same routine.  In order to meet with the metal detectors, Costi has to invent an excuse to leave work early, concocting what he thinks is a harmless lie, though it’s easily scoped out by his boss who surmises he is having an affair with his female coworker.  Despite his outright denial, the boss refuses to be made a fool of, as this would explain his recent work lapses, demanding with utter certainty that he knows what’s going on, forcing Costi to admit he’s having an affair—but with a female counterpart at the metal detector company, wiping his moral conscience clean of work fraternization.  This fictional slippage opens the door to multiple narratives, almost compelling the audience to play along.  His little trip to the metal detectors is eye-opening, as not only is he informed that legally he’s required to report any historical findings to the police, but if the contents are revealed to be of national interest, they remain confiscated by the state, where the finder is only allowed a 30% finder’s fee.  Additionally, because of the obvious discouragement involved, one of the workers offers a little black market deal on the side, doing the same job for half the price, claiming no police obligations.  Without question Costi and his neighbor choose Door Number 2, arriving together at the location, adding a bit of luster to the narrative, as we learn this used to be an industrial site, a school, and one of the most popular strip bars during the communist era, all of which suggest we are dealing in an area of moral ambiguity.  As soon as the metal detector arrives and pulls out his equipment, all eyes are on this guy and his machine, repeatedly pacing back and forth, sending out wailing electronic noises when it detects something.  Porumboiu puts suspense on hold, allowing expectations to linger as the man patiently carries out his duties in real time, where the audience remains transfixed to learn what this all means. 

Expect giggles from the audience, as the sound of this detection device seems to have a life of its own, sounding like a sick siren that is low on batteries, yet erupting into a feverish pitch with nearly every step.  With an amusing degree of overconfidence, he points out the most likely spot to begin digging.  While all along we knew it would come to this, to actually sit there and watch guys dig a hole isn’t exactly enthralling, as it’s a kind of anti-theater, becoming ridiculously absurd after a while, as the hole only grows bigger.  Continuously told there is something under there, with the device already ringing in their ears, this begins to test the men’s patience, as Adrian’s frayed nerves are ready to explode, quickly growing tired of this guy, claiming he doesn’t know what he’s doing, where the two get into little squabbles that escalate into something more, where Adrian accuses him of the mindless ineptitude of the communist era, where you were expected to work without thinking.  The director, however, seems to relish the idea of extending the length of this scene, testing the audience’s patience, becoming a mental test of endurance.  This allows the audience to fill in the blanks and reach their own ideas on likely outcomes, playing on the audience’s expectations, where this is the inherent beauty of the film.  Thriving on minimalist absurdity throughout, the digging continues well beyond reason, where Adrian was ready to give up hours earlier, but Costi keeps at it, driven by unknown dreams of ambition, where this is his only chance to break out of that constricting routine of feeling forever boxed in.  How it unravels is curiously unexpected, where the mind races to project even more unlikely outcomes, each more deliciously cynical than the next, as this style of film seems to favor a projection of dark thoughts.  It’s an odd parable on unrealistic expectations, with Romanians having already felt the historical wrath of a communist inflicted ideology of shared poverty, so is it that unusual to dream of capitalist wealth?  The underlying motivation behind all this is extremely clever, perhaps an envious view of how those restricted to life in the East view the capitalist excesses of the West, where they dream of having a piece of it.  Presented as an inherent conflict between aspiration and reality, Porumboiu foregoes the dark themes and typical dreariness of Eastern European miserablism and instead searches for the light while excavating the past, with often amusing results, which are especially exaggerated by the song booming over the closing credits, where most everyone will leave the theater with a smile. It’s interesting that the film began as a documentary, where Porumboiu learned about a plot of land that had a similar history, supposedly containing buried treasures of the past, but he was unhappy with the results, so he added a fictionalized context that makes all the difference.  A bit slight, but certainly amusing.