Where Are You Bucharest? (2014)
Director: Vlad Petri
Country: Romania
Genre: Documentary
Official Trailer: Here
Editor’s Notes: The following review is part of our coverage of the Transilvania International Film Festival. For more information visit http://tiff.ro/en and follow TIFF Romania on Twitter at @tiffromania.
It is 14th January 2012, nighttime, and the camera captures people gathered on the streets of Bucharest. A gendarme tells people with a megaphone to disperse. The camera then follows this same gendarme as he tries to clear the crowds at University Square. Yet the film does not explain why people have gathered at the square. But for those who are either Romanian or aware of recent social protests in Europe, the date given at the beginning of the sequence is enough of a clue for the reason behind the crowds. Such is the apparent logic of filmmaker Vlad Petri, who is much more preoccupied with showing footage via his embedded, roving camera than with providing explanations or information. He also foregoes a voiceover to convey his perspective of what happens on the screen. Instead, Petri allows the masses to speak for themselves through individual interviews and group conversations among the people he encounters on the streets. Ultimately, these exchanges do less to illuminate the Romanian political situation than to present how slippery and elusive is a democratic process and organising/sustaining protest, uniting in what they entail and its goals, and creating a plan that would fulfill such goals.
All the same, Petri’s point of view expresses itself in the way he organises and presents his footage. The documentary is divided into three parts: ‘The Protest,’ ‘The People,’ and ‘The President’s Suspension.’ The first part begins with a shot of a crowd chanting, ‘Resignation! Resignation!’ in reference to current Romanian president Traian Băsescu (note: the end of 2014 will mark the end of his second five-year term, which has been peppered with suspensions). Petri is one among a handful of folks armed with a camera milling about the crowds and filming events: people throwing rocks at the gendarmes, or the gendarmes beating up people and arresting them. In the process, he picks up on conversations that present an array of issues, perspectives, and sketches of historical context to the protests.
Petri allows the masses to speak for themselves through individual interviews and group conversations…these exchanges do less to illuminate the Romanian political situation than to present how slippery and elusive is a democratic process and organising/sustaining protest.
The first extended exchange that he captures is a heated one between a young man and an older woman, with the former raising his voice about being a hard-working man whose money ultimately pays for the president’s corruption. Petri also interviews individuals whom he encounters off-the-cuff, such as the man with a flag who wants to establish a new political party or the older man with a tempered tone who states some bitter truths about the masses, the political process, and their relationship: Petri’s generation of debt and unemployment; older folks who are ashamed to admit that they are starving; fear and self-preservation, which grow with debts and doubts and lead to people being fearful instead of being feared. Another poignant individual interview is with the young man who sees Băsescu as a mere cog and servant of a larger system across the world.
One of the more striking, Kafkaesque conversations that Petri encounters is between several gendarmes and a retired police colonel, after the former asked to see the latter’s ID. At first glance, the retired police colonel’s reaction is a case of paranoia and exaggeration. But following the letter of the law, a gendarme can only ask for someone’s ID if a person is engaging in acts that disturb the peace. The retired police colonel’s conclusion is that even though he was not doing anything, being asked for his ID makes him feel like a criminal. Asking someone for his/her ID is a simple act, but it is nevertheless an act of state surveillance and control, especially when one has not done anything. It is the gendarme’s subtle exercise of surveillance and control to which the retired police colonel is ‘overreacting.’
The second part begins with a changed landscape of snow and freezing weather. Yet small pockets of people continue to gather in the streets in/by the square. One group chants slogans endlessly as if they were doing calisthenics and huddles around a mic as if it were a campfire, to keep themselves warm and hopeful. At another time, Petri comes upon a crowd of young people wielding signs, one of which states, ‘Think globally, act locally, and not nationally,’ which segues to a disagreement between a nationalist (older woman) and an anti-nationalist (younger protestors), but also a woman and a man over feminism. Such disagreements commingle in a three-person conversation about who one would vote for, which devolves into an ugly ‘I’m right and you’re so wrong because how can you still believe in…!’ between two men and a woman. In contrast is an informal, thoughtful discussion group on poverty among people of younger generations.
Where Are You Bucharest? invites the obvious comparison with Jehane Noujaim’s The Square (2013), which is also a combination of observational footage of protests…
A theme that develops across all three parts of the film is thus the differences in approach and political positions between older and younger generations, who appear a lot more global-minded through their slogans and the discussion group. In the third part, an older woman tells a younger man beating a drum, ‘Your protest is not legal,’ and to take it across the street. The logic of ‘I’ve been protesting longer than you, so I’m more right’ logic also sometimes prevails among protestors. These differences make one reflect upon the extremely difficult road of transforming varied protests into a united revolution and then into actual, materialistic changes. In this regard, Where Are You Bucharest? invites the obvious comparison with Jehane Noujaim’s The Square (2013), which is also a combination of observational footage of protests in/around Tahrir Square in Cairo, Egypt and individual interviews, and follows the terribly tricky process of organising and sustaining protest/revolution. In fact, the film thus ends on a surprisingly somber note.
With the recent spate of documentaries that capture protests from around the world (e.g. The Square, The Uprising [2013] Demonstration [2013]), Where Are You Bucharest? is a solid addition to this subgenre, above all for its splintered, reflective, and sobering quality.
With the recent spate of documentaries that capture protests from around the world (e.g. The Square, The Uprising [2013] Demonstration [2013]), Where Are You Bucharest? is a solid addition to this subgenre, above all for its splintered, reflective, and sobering quality.
