Irony
was usually lost on Communist apparatchiks. It was especially so in this case.
The socialist authorities were completely baffled why a small band of former
Party members would stage a daring armored car robbery for a few million
worthless Romanian leu, at a time when everyone was desperately seeking hard
foreign currency. Yet, the absurdity is the whole point for the disillusioned
resistance heroes in Nae Caranfil’s Closer
to the Moon (trailer
here),
which opens this Friday in New York.
All the major facts of Moon are historically accurate, but the why’s remain a bit murky. However, Caranfil’s speculations are more than persuasive. They clearly carry the spirit of the truth, even if they cannot be verified by the participants, for reasons one could easily guess. At, one time, police inspector Max Rosenthal and his comrades were ardent Communists and heroes of the resistance. They also happened to be Jewish. The post-war years would have been disheartening enough as the Communist Party proceeded to betray their ideals, but to make matters worse, the group of friends have all largely lost their positions thanks to the Stalin-mandated anti-Semitic purges. Only Rosenthal still maintains his post, entirely due to the fact he is married to the shrewish daughter of his superior. However, he is dead set on a divorce, regardless of the repercussions.
Sadly,
Yorgu Ristea, the academic, Razvan Ordel, the journalist, and Dumitru Dorneanu,
the research scientists have even worse seats in the same boat. The outlook is
nearly as bad for Rosenthal’s old flame, Alice Bercovich, who had been sent
abroad to study, but was recalled under ominous circumstances. Unlike the
others, she has a son to protect. Yet, against her better judgement, she gets
caught up in Rosenthal’s armored car scheme. Conceived as an existential
protest, they hope to spur their countrymen to start questioning the claims of
the Communist government. Of course, one of the central pillars of its
propaganda is the supposed abolition of crime in Romania.
Both
the scheme and the punishment are so crazy they have to be true. Rosenthal and
his comrades really did perpetrate the heist under the guise of an action movie
shoot (it would have been the first in Romania, had it been real). Likewise,
the government really did force the condemned prisoners to re-stage the crime
for a massively ill-conceived propaganda film. With nothing to lose, the
prisoners largely take over the production (aided and abetted by Virgil, the
fictionalized apprentice cameraman). Desperate to learn why they did it and who
else might be involved, Holban the frazzled bureaucrat, indulges their demands
for champagne and caviar, hoping the truth will come out during an unguarded
moment. Yet, the truth is all around him, if he could only see it.
Obviously,
this story holds tremendous cinematic potential, which Caranfil fully exploits,
but he also gives it all a darkly wry comedic twist. At times, it feels like The Lives of Others rewritten by a less
manic Alan Ayckbourne, but viewers are constantly reminded of the impending finality.
Indeed, Caranfil nicely balances the absurdist humor with the tragic fatalism.
The
mostly British cast is particularly well suited to the film’s matter-of-factly sardonic
tone, especially Mark Strong, who personifies world-weary dignity as Rosenthal.
Vera Farmiga gets to exercise both her drama queen and sultry femme fatale
chops as Bercovich, making the most of each. Eventually, Christian McKay will
break out for his witty, sophisticated performances, including his work here as
the disenchanted Ristea. Game of Thrones’
Harry Lloyd is blandly forgettable as Virgil, but his job is mostly to observe.
However, David de Keyser adds real heart and gravitas to the film as Moritz,
the camera man’s VOA-listening landlord. British television regular Anton
Lesser might also do his career best as the politically vulnerable insomniac,
Holban.
