Cristi Puiu, The Death of Mr. Lazarescu / Moartea domnului Lazarescu (Romania, 2005)

Yet another film dedicated to the critique of the system. Cristi Puiu's The Death of Mr. Lazarescu is a film following an old dying man through the tumultuous night [presumably] during the last hours of his life. Puiu is very interested in human interaction as it is captured by the camera lens, not filtered through the mind of the filmmaker. He manipulates the actors and equipment in a way that produces the most accurate--true to life sense. There is no narration to tell us what we think. Rather, the long shots, with little dialog or sound, ask us to feel some pleasure, some frustration, some relief, some anguish; as we do regularly during the oscillating events of our days. The hand-held camera ads a layer of immediacy despite the excruciatingly slow progression of the plot. (The entire plot of this 150 minute film can be summarized as follows: an old cat-loving man feels sick and calls for an ambulance. he is then taken to three different hospitals, all of which are too overwhelmed to help him.) Also, the dizzying scenes of the bobbing camera disorients us a little, and we immerse ourselves further into the unscripted chaos of illness and hospitals. You almost feel like you or someone you know shot the film because the feasibility of the stripped down technology compels us to feel closer to the situation.

The old man isn't exactly a character with which we can easily sympathize. His illness, in part, is his own fault because he drinks ţuică (a VERY strong Romanian liquor made of plums--usually about 50% alcohol by volume) to escape the pain of his condition--which of course causes new ailments. The man can't even hold his medication down because of the liquor destroying his already-afflicted guts. He is also a little snobby--refusing advise from his neighbors. Beu pe banii mei! (kind of like: if I can afford to drink--I will!), he rudely repeats in response.

But we can't help but take pity on the lonely old man. The neighbor complains about the cat hair in the apartment while Lazarescu is suffering and vomiting. Later, in an ambulance headed toward the third hospital for the night, he is desperate for water while the disinterested nurse is busy chatting with the driver and gulping from her water bottle! Puiu successfully presents us with a contrast between this poor old soul, misunderstood and neglected, facing his death all alone versus the absolutely banal world, with its often snobby people.

A glitch in the translation changed the meaning of the film for me. At the point where Mr. Lazarescu is refused life-saving surgery on the basis that he doesn't agree to have the procedure performed (he can't pick up the pen to sign the required waiver, nor can he comprehend the bantering doctors), the pretentious doctor directs a couple of plain questions at Lazarescu. The translation of Lazarescu's responses suggested that Lazarescu was completely incoherant. However, the translation was word-for-word and intentionally off. His speech was in fact grammatically and thematically coherent, just quiet. Had the translation been true to the actual dialog, the tension between a pathetic marginalized old man and an egotistic asshole doctor would have been more successful.