Despite his legendary phobia of cinema, the hero of J.D. Salinger, Holden Caulfield, has accepted the challenge of going through the Romanian films of the year, filtering them through his unmistakable sensibilities.

If there’s one thing that I am sick of, that’s Romanian cinema. I don’t wanna hear a single word about it! In fact, I’m very uneducated, even though I’ve seen my fair share of films during my lifetime. The films of the New Wave, or whatever they called it – I saw ‘em religiously. They were talking about ‘em in such a fancy way that I thought I’d definitely contaminate myself with ‘em and all, I’d be cured of my ignorance. What I liked about ‘em was that nothing really happened, just like in my own life. They didn’t struggle to tell a story, with contrived plotlines and all that. They had something that was, like, rough and true. Nothing drives me crazier than phonyness. First of all, and I don’t think that I mentioned this before, but I can’t stand actors. Nobody acts naturally. They just imagine they do. Some of the good’uns act like they do in real life, sort of, but they’re no fun. Yet, in the films of this so-called wave, the actors were really natural. And there’s another thing that I liked about ‘em. And that was the fact that their directors were sick of this lousy world that we’re living in. Nobody was preaching. Nobody was using their spit to stick messages of hope or propaganda to the blackboard, believing that their films could ever solve anything and could ever turn this lousy world into a better place.

If I were to make some sort of mid-term review of the year, though I don’t know if anybody would even care about that, I’d say that it felt like a complete mambo-jumble of ideas, if you could call it that, anyway. And there were more movies than ever this year, even though I hear that the business is always complaining that there’s no money, and the year is far from over. I think they’re all a bunch of phonies.

But the Wave left just like it came, and after it, the flood, but I kept on going to see Romanian films, out of a sense of inertia. You know what they say: bad habits never die out. And I’d rather see a film on the big screen, with a helluva sound system and all, even though what drives me nuts is the company. The cinemas are full of bastards. I always end up sitting next to some damn louse who’s posting about themselves going to the cinema, gets bored, and then breaks a damn finger scrolling through TikTok. Oh, I forgot to tell you that the films that I like the most are the funny ones, or well, ones that are funny at least sometimes. And that anti-corporate wuddayacallit that was Teambuilding made me laugh like I hadn’t laughed ever since I saw The Death of Mr. Lăzărescu. After that, I was seized again by my horror and sickness towards this world. In any case, the problem of the so-called wave and its descendants was the fact that they took themselves way too seriously, choking on their self-importance, completely ignorant of how weak their bones were in terms of commercial aspects. See, when I want to, I can really be ironic.

I haven’t studied this in-depth, but still, the films of the New Wave made me feel less uneducated than I was before. If I were to make some sort of mid-term review of the year, though I don’t know if anybody would even care about that, I’d say that it felt like a complete mambo-jumble of ideas, if you could call it that, anyway. And there were more movies than ever this year, even though I hear that the business is always complaining that there’s no money, and the year is far from over. I think they’re all a bunch of phonies. I had the feeling that I was stuck in traffic, deafened by the noise of all these people that’re honking for attention. If I’d care even a tiny little bit about the big-name festivals that rejected ‘em, I’d be tempted to say that they’re right, but I couldn’t care less about ‘em and their pathetic awards. I’ve witnessed the inevitable throwbacks to the Revolution and Communism. I think they’re welcome, despite all the things they say about ‘em, and that the topic is far from being washed up, and plus, I wanna understand why some people go around barking in accusations, while others are blown away with nostalgia for those times. Then, some movies opportunistically latch onto fashionable causes, minorities, and ideologies – all this stuff has multiplied faster than the plague, and it don’t even matter if they’re artistically valid, what matters is that their virtue is all the more stridently signaled. There’s also some movies that don’t get tied up in theses and all that, which are relatively enjoyable, but minor – and I’m afraid that they’re a species on the verge of extinction. Then we have the veterans, who periodically stick their heads out of the crowd and start running all alone, on their own lane, more or less equal to themselves. And then there’s obviously the deluge effect caused by that comedy-turned-phenom.

Taxi Drivers made me laugh a coupl’a of times, and I’d have laughed some more together with that clown driver if the story didn’t turn completely cringe with all the endless drama of the other driver, the softie, and his lousy wife. And I liked that it was about cabbies, instead of Bolt or Uber drivers, ‘cause I can’t stand ‘em. What I liked about Another Two Lottery Tickets was the epilogue, while The Dream felt as long I imagine as a life sentence in prison feels like, it was too much like that French comedy with those prisoners that were actors and all that. But I can bet you this: Mirciulică’s latest gig, Paid Wedding, is gonna rake in a fortune in gifts. It looks more professional than the first, and this time ‘round, no woman is sticking in things she ain’t got – ‘cause I don’t think that’s in any way the recipe for box office success.

What I liked the most about Tiger was the acting of the tiger, since I’ve already told you what I think about actors. And I didn’t get how, outta two so-called macho movies, To the North was the one to go around festivals, instead of Boss. I mean, it’s true that the first one really steals the show with the way it looks and sounds like, while the second one is too phony, but it’s still a double standard to me. The Refuge is for mountain-heads, so not for me, but it does have a coupl’a nice shots in it. Freedom got me terribly dizzy during the scene where there’s an ambush at the Revolution and, in the end, I understood once again, that is, if there was anything left to understand, why today’s society is hopelessly compromised. And yet, the movie doesn’t tell us who the terrorists were.

MMXX was a drag, but it reminded me of the absurdities of the pandemic, the ones that many‘ve already forgotten about or outright pretended didn’t exist, and I was once again seized by my desperation at this lousy world, where nobody gets along with each other anymore, and all that. I’d even call the director, ‘cause I like films that make you feel that, once you’re done with ‘em, you’d like for the author to be your best friend, and to be able to ring him on the phone whenever you’d like to. I also wanna see Don’t Expect Too Much from the End of the World, ‘cause this one hasn’t been leaked online yet. Not ‘cause it got some award or another, but this Bad Luck Banging guy is a helluva bad-mannered and reckless guy, just as I am, even though I don’t really get this thing that he has about dictionaries. And I’d tell you one or two things about that surrealistic hodgepodge that is Mammalia, that was so damn lousy that it ended up fascinating me, but really, it ain’t worth it. Not that I’d be scared of ruining your fun or anything. Cause there’s nothing in it for me to ruin. Really!

I’d better say something about the documentaries, even though, except for that old geezer in The Vultures of Țaga, who I’d always take up as a mentor, I don’t really have much else to say. Maybe something about the fight that this couple has in bed in My Muslim Husband, even though the directors were definitely going for something else. Or the way this poet dame in Nora was spoiling herself, even though the movie is kinda flat. Or the room with all those musical artifacts in Playback, although this exercise in dis-communist nostalgia is kinda boring. Or the ending of Arsenie. An Amazing Afterlife, although I would’ve preferred to see an actual movie, with that actor from Poppy Field in the role of the superstar priest. Or the music video from Blue Planet, ‘cause other than that, the film looks like a school assignment, hell, even I could’ve directed it. Or those archive images in Between Revolutions, but without any sound, ‘cause I got all sleepy those damn letters read with sooo much affectation, and besides, I understand that the letters are even faker than those lousy accents. Really original, buddy, what can I tell ya. Honestly, I don’t think that you can expect that anything better‘ll come out ‘till the end of the year. Well, if I told you what kinda feats I’m capable of, you prolly wouldn’t even believe me. One time, I was this close to appearing in a documentary film, but I changed my mind at the last moment. I figured that, since I hate movies the way I hate ‘em, I’d be a phony if I’d let ‘em stick me into a documentary.

This article was originally published in Films in Frame #3, which came out in early October. The magazine can be found in Cărturesți and OTOTO bookstores or can be ordered from our shop on the website.

Main photo: Actress Ilinca Manolache in Don’t expect too much from the end of the world (dir. Radu Jude)

Mihai Chirilov

Directorul artistic al Festivalului Internațional de Film Transilvania (TIFF).