TIMEBOX by Nora Agapi deservedly won a special mention in the Romanian Days section for its ‘lovely , sad and honest documentary portrait of a full life being gradually packed away’. The life is that of Agapi’s father Ioan-Matei Agapi, a distinguished documentary film maker, whose work covers over 50 years of Romanian life. He’s still living in the rented family apartment where Nora herself grew up in Iasi, but the council are emptying the building for renovation, and Ioan-Matei is the last to leave. The flat is crammed with ‘stuff’, mostly files and boxes and cupboards and tumbling piles of his films, all neatly labelled just like his father advised everything should be years and years ago. And it’s not just films. Items of family life lie around at random, old pots and pans, damaged toys, broken furniture, memories for father and daughter, and part of the pleasure of the film comes from hearing this spiky, warm man recalling his life and work and the sweep of history he’s experienced and recorded. What are we without our past?
Maybe photography, filming, indicates a desire to hold onto moments, and for someone who has recorded the life around him, these possessions and the memories they hold have become part of him. William Morris said our homes should contain nothing that is not beautiful or useful, but for some the ramshackle and the familiar have their own beauty. The dismantling of a home where everything has a meaning and a memory is the dismantling of a life. Meanwhile his daughter, loving but increasingly exasperated, tries to set him onto what seems like the impossible task of sorting and packing with a view to moving. Nowhere the council offer is big enough for this great store. One dreads the compromise that must come.
More house-moving in Andrei Udişteanu’s 40 minute NOBODY HOME (NU E NIMENI ACASĂ), but this time everything has to be packed up into a few big suitcases, and it’s lives that are expanding. The phenomenon of the younger generation moving to Western Europe in search of a better life for themselves is something of a tragedy for the country, but a profound decision that many make. Here we see the preparations of a young professional couple with two young children about to move to England, as many of their friends have. Whatever their qualifications may be, they will work in a care home there. Their families are sad but philosophical. The older daughter has mixed feelings, but the little boy is taken up with the adventure of it and won’t for a while realise what it all means. So they choose the toys they will take with them, while their parents weigh their suitcases and squeeze in what they can.
The film’s low-key approach doesn’t milk the situation, or the farewells, but there’s a sorrowful note throughout and you feel a mixture of sadness and admiration for this couple, mostly smiling through their misgivings about what might lie in store. The last shots of them, in England, playing with the children in a dull green, very English, park which contrasts so strongly with the colourful gardens and yards they have left behind, shows them apparently happy, unrelentingly determined to seize this new life. This film should be obligatory viewing for those English people who demonise eastern European immigrants.
A rather different take on the phenomenon comes from Radu Mitcu and Mihai Mincan in EMIGRANT BLUES, a clear-eyed depiction of the journey thousands make from Romania to Spain and back by bus, a 55-hour journey. Mitcu’s earliest films (Nişipuri, Australia) have often been little humanist gems with individuals at their heart. But here what we watch is more a process, a tedious and physically uncomfortable one, not individualised or eliciting any sentimentality, recapturing the stark experience of the travellers as they shuffle between lives and between buses (‘Madrid passengers this way, Barcelona that’), hang around waiting for connections, and try to sleep in the cramped coaches, enduring the long passage across the anonymous roads of Europe. It’s something they have opted to do, and they go through the process with resignation, the price to be paid for the occasional visit back home.
The second part of the film records the final return home of a Romanian – in a coffin. So many who die there have wanted to be buried at home, and a long journey is made longer by the bureaucracy of frontiers. It’s never easy to return home. Again avoiding making a personal story of the deceased, we know nothing about them, driven in in the back of a van by strangers, but they become the everyman who has gone far from home and is making their final return. A sober and austere account.
Part 1 Here
Part 2 Here
Part 3 Here
Part 5 Here