preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload preload

Gindul - An author is born (Magda Mihailescu)

A bizarre idea occurred to me, after seeing Love Sick: if Cecilia Ştefănescu didn’t read write her book, if she brought her characters straight onto the screen, and only then placed them in a novel (it’s customary, if only you can give up some of your ego), I think the latter would have been better. Although the writer is also the scriptwriter, although she is also the author of the dialogues, together with Răzvan Rădulescu, the film resembles, first and foremost, its director, Tudor Giurgiu. One cannot find the young author’s aimlessness of writing, the frisky game of fragmentarism, the labour – disguised into wittiness - to torture the lexis. Cecilia Ştefănescu has, I presume, a certain cinematographic sense, as she trusted the person who read her book through different eyes. The same frail feeling that didn’t get the chance to become consistent, the love lived by two young women, too sophisticated in the book, is now filmed with such fluidity that what we see is almost „a document” - as Truffaut would have said, the filmmaker close to Tudor Giurgiu’s heart – about the birth of love. A girl (Maria Popistaşu) is better prepared, we’ll understand later that she has the experience of the „sick ties”; the other one lets herself involved in a game inside of which she discovers herself, with amazement, getting past her fear, the limits of a certain education, chasing a demon away, embracing another. The lens shyly approaches the face of this extraordinary Ioana Barbu – in her first important role – as if it didn’t want to scare her off and stop her twitch. The actress hides and reveals, at the same time, is suspicious and afraid of her own presentiments, expressed, cinematographically speaking, just by details, small warnings. The potential of the two actresses, equally in the severe and the playful registers, the path the director cut for them – could have started, in themselves, the outbreak of the drama, without the complementary story of incest, more a literary whim and not a fatality, as we know it from such classic films as Vaghe stele dell’Orsa (Visconti), or Le souffle au coeur (Malle). Unfortunately, the film bears this trace of the novel, as it couldn’t avoid the flounder in a hard to swallow dissertation of the two humanities students about Chateaubriand’s René, at the local pub on the village main street, with sentences ex cathedra regarding the physiology of the incest and the base of I-don’t-know-what „noble” message. Another script would have been, perhaps, better suited to the aesthetic commitment of its author and of its crew (photography: Alexandru Sterian), but what Giurgiu had to prove, he did it completely. An author is born.

{ Romana Language Icon }


Making of