Film: Police, Adjective
Release date: 14th February 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 113 mins
Director: Corneliu Porumboiu
Starring: Dragos Bucur, Vlad Ivanov, Irina Saulescu, Ion Stoica, Marian Ghenea
Genre: Crime/Drama
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD
Country: Romania
The winner of the Jury Prize under the Un Certain Rergard section of the 2009 Cannes Film Festival, this Romanian film has received drastically varied responses from critics and audiences. It is praised by some, hated by others. The piece was written and directed by Corneliu Porumboiu, and investigates the dilemma when morality and the law come into conflict. With such varying reactions to the work, one has to ask; is PoliĊ£ist, Adjectiv truly a great piece of art direction, or is it a case of the Emperor's new clothes?
The film follows Cristi, a Romanian policeman who has a moral crisis when he is ordered to arrest a kid for smoking hashish. The narrative follows him as he attempts to investigate the case further and deduce the supplier - his frustration increasing as he tries to pursue leads under the constraints of bureaucracy.
Meanwhile, he is pressured to simply make the arrest and press supplier charges on the teenager. He must choose whether he will obey the law, which he has sworn to uphold, or avoid the guilt of ruining a young person's life over something he deems to be a small offence.
Meanwhile, the monotony and strict nature of his work have a noticeable affect on his life and marriage…
When hearing about it, this interesting concept raises high hopes for Porumboiu's film. In its symbolism and ideas, it is very clever. Grammar is used as a running theme throughout the dialogue, just as it is used in the title. Dialogue is sparse, and the lengthiest conversations are always about grammar - the rules under which expression is controlled. When Cristi makes a grammatical error, he is corrected. Even with his wife, these conversations are the closest they get to intimacy. This is symbolic of how choked he feels by the law that he must follow. In a scene where his wife explains that the spelling of a word has changed due to a ruling by the Romanian Academy, he questions how some people can decide and enforce what is and is not the right way to speak. Likewise, he must follow a law that he has been told is correct, even though he disagrees, and does not know if this will still be the same law they are told in a year's time.
Unfortunately, this potential-filled film is slowly drip-fed to the audience, but never fully delivered. The direction makes some very bold choices; everything is focused to create an experience that conveys how Cristi feels. To put it bluntly - very little happens. There is no score, and there are frequent stretches of near-silence. At the beginning, this quiet nature is typical of the genre; the opening credits roll to background sound effects and nothing more, and it is then a good five minutes before anyone speaks. Before this, we simply watch Cristi follow the teenager walking down wet, empty streets. This opening lets the audience know without a doubt that they are watching an artistic piece of socio-realm. A small font for the credits, a silent start - it has the clear art house trademarks. But unlike most films that begin in such a way, this empty pace continues throughout the entire film. A vast percentage of the footage merely watches Cristi observe the teenagers as they do very little. Only a few times is there a scene with a proper conversation, and plot developments are sparsely spread apart. With a running time of 115, that's a lot of repetitive footage.
Whether or not these were wise or affective choices is personal opinion, and the source of conflict over the film's reception. The silences and slow pace demonstrate how bored, lonely and depressed Cristi is, and how pointless his case feels. However, when the novelty of the symbolism wears off, it is hard going on the viewer. It is definitely art, but art in the Tate Modern sense; a device to make its audience as uncomfortable, restless and frustrated as the character. The director said he did not wish to pander to what audiences want, and he certainly stuck to this, raising the old question of film as a devise to communicate meaning vs. film as entertainment.
On the other hand, these vast portions of slow-paced silence do add to the delicious tension that exists whenever a conversation takes place, and makes the wordy end scene dramatically poignant. Finally, an oasis of sound - but the water in it is bitter, drawing together the themes of law and grammar into a cold, soul-crushing conclusion. Throughout the film, every small exchange feels significant, purely because they are so rare, and yet very often they don't communicate much. Therefore, an awkward moment that could be dismissed in another film instead preys upon the mind. For example, Cristi brings up that he wanted to see Prague; a tiny piece of small talk that turns into a dangerous-feeling conversation of patriotism, as his superior gives hypocritical reasons why Romania is better than Prague at anything Cristi mentions. This scene occurs relatively near the beginning of the film, and enforces just how unthinkable it is for him to even consider a different way of doing things. His thoughts are policed, as are his words. He's living in 1984.
The pallet works hand in hand with the lack of sound and awkward exchanges - almost everywhere is a washed out colour, with only splashes of blue coming through. This makes the world seem empty and cold. Cristi's house, all dull browns, is, in comparison, warmer than elsewhere, and an instant relief to the eye. It feels safe to behold. Yet, his scenes at home are just as long, silent and empty as those outside, showing that even in his sanctuary he can't escape the affect of his work upon his life.
Porumboiu said, in an interview about the film, that he believes what we write affects how we see the world. The film is divided into three acts, each act a day of Cristi's life, each ending with a detailed report of the non-events of the day. Having to strictly and carefully document every tiny, insignificant detail of his investigation underlines again how trapped he feels. Silently, the camera slowly plans down each of these reports; a calligrapher was hired to write them out in various different ways, to find the right handwriting for the character. The reports were an important symbol to the director, and yet this pan continues for too long, and occurs three times (as unwelcome each time). Little consideration seems to have been shown to how others will appreciate these scenes, only that it means something to the director himself.
Yet, the scenes that do contain conversation are memorable and very effective. This is partially due to the excellent acting - every actor in the piece brings utter authenticity to their role. Dragos Bucur carries much of the film on his own, with other key performances including that of Irina Saulescu, who plays Cristi's wife, and Vlad Ivanov, his boss. It seems a shame, with such talented acting and clever exchanges, that there were so few in the film. Scenes with Cristi and his wife are particularly haunting, driving home images of the silent, broken marriage in uncomfortably long shots.
This film, undeniably, has some interesting ideas and clever symbolism - however, the wait between each development is too lengthy, pushing its audience too far and working them too hard. To those who can sit through this, it has some commendable moments, but the execution is such that these shall only be enjoyed by a small, patient few. It must be still acknowledged for its originality, and elements of it will forever stick in the mind, but as it stands, this expressive piece will probably never achieve a wide audience. AIB
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