Police, adjective Review
Posted by Erik Luers on 01.26.2010
Buying vowels is such an expensive hobby........
Dragos Bucur ... Cristi
Vlad Ivanov ... Anghelache
Irina Saulescu ... Anca
Ion Stoica ... Nelu
Cosmin Selesi ... Costi
Alexandru Sabadac ... Alex
Not merely just a film for astute linguists, Romania's own Corneliu Porumboiu has crafted a new film both visually contemplative and narratively enticing. Police, adjective (or politist, adj. for trendy, non-native hipsters) is more concerned with esoteric ideas than concrete facts, and is both a critique on and a platform for visual perception and visual stillness. Taking its sweet, quiet time, Porumboiu's film skillfully unfolds without much of a skillful crime caper unfolding. Like our main character, the policeman/detective Cristi (Dragos Bucur), we are placed back at a distance, unsure of the images we witness (or at the very least, what it is they mean). A teenage girl goes into a house and, a few hours later, she comes out. A boy does the same thing. Who are they and what are their roles? We think we know, but we can't be sure, and so we must wait it out and see. Although not consistently unfolding in real time, Police,adjective draws out its subject and unabashedly lets us ponder. Some critics have called this practice excruciating, and yet this has less to do with the film's technique than with the profession it so aptly depicts.
But what the devil is the film about? Quickly described, the movie follows a cop investigating a pot smoking, male, teenage student. The kid smokes it with his friends for all the world to see, and Cristi does see it, smells it (that is, the cigarettes after they drop them on the ground and leave), and makes note of the events in his ever expanding files on the case. Marijuana consumption is illegal in Romania, and Cristi has been ordered to arrest this young lad. It's hard out there for a pimp.
There's a little more to it, though. It's the boy's brother who is supplying it, and he is unfortunately out of town; Christi would rather capture him than his younger, easily impressionable broham. The men at the station tell Cristi to organize a sting operation, but Cristi resists. What are his reasons for doing so, you ask? Cristi is more concerned with principal than law, and his fear of an ever changing legal system has done a number on his morally inclined conscience.
That is the film on a plainly, ever so basic level. Police,adjective, a movie about a young kid who smokes weed while an older man watches; pedophile voyeurism at its worst. Porumboiu digs deeper than that however, and the film becomes as much a critique on Romanian politics as it is an extended study of an isolated incident. Early on, Cristi talks with an older colleague about the honeymoon he had a little while back, mentioning that people openly smoke hashish there everyday. No one judges anyone and not a soul cares. Cristi finds it rather pointless then to throw a kid in jail for such a minor offense (the older man assures Cristi that the boy will get out in less years than he will be sentenced for), and doesn't want that on his conscience. Is he a newly minted Bohemian with a youthful outlook of life? Cristi also expresses his concerns that the law will probably change in a few years time, making marijuana use legal. Perhaps this is not something for him to judge, let alone theoretically predict. Cristi is completely immersed in this case, but as a bystander. He knows the details, understands the procedure, and has scouted out the locations — Cristi always follows the subjects just out of view (although not always out of frame) — but he is morally opposed to what he must do, and so he extends the case and hopes for a new lead. Call it a conflict of interest.
Many sequences in the film show Cristi following the boy's friends back to the boy's house, and then waiting across the street, keenly observing.....nothing. He grows tired and cold (actor Bucur almost seems to be making a stylish statement with his turtleneck sweaters always turned upwards). He checks the automobile in front of the house and calls an employee to run the license through their computers. He walks around, smokes (tobacco), and waits as the nearby canines bark the night away. Cristi is either an investigator or a volunteer security guard. When asked by a curious deli worker why he has been in the area the past few days, Cristi first avoids the question and then lies.
These scenes are appropriately humdrum but exciting in the sense that we anticipate something greatly dramatic. Much like Cristi, we are trying to piece together a case that shouldn't be this difficult to comprehend — by avoiding a sting operation, we are forced to pick random names and numbers out of a hat. When Cristi follows the students, he is always far enough away to not look too suspicious. For example, the film opens not with a chase but with a deliberately paced sequence involving Cristi following the reefer-puffing teen. The length of this sequence will set us up for the stillness of the scenes outside of the frequently inhabited home. The two men walk and walk, and the viewer gets a sudden rise out of seeing Cristi, towards the back of the frame, treading within close proximity to the student. Even before we are informed of the case, Porumboiu has non-verbally eased us into the narrative.
Aside from the strictly procedural, heavily detailed moments (the ugly walls in Cristi's office are enough to make anyone go mad), the film is not without its humanity. One scene involving Cristi's talkative, pop song loving wife is marvelously written in its playfulness and smarts. Dissecting lyrics to a mind-numbing beat playing on the computer, the couple comically argue over the meaning of the overly vague lyrics. Cristi is no match for his wife, opting out of the philosophical argument with dry “common sense” (the sea without the sun would still be the sea, for instance, or is it the other way around?) Although a little drunk from a meeting with the pot smoking delinquent's good friend, one gets the sense that Cristi often has these harmless give and takes with his wife, and it does him and his sanity some good. Also notice how long the scene is, from the time he comes home, eats dinner in the kitchen, and sits down on the couch to begin the conversation with his wife. This is played out in real time, and the scene settles along with the characters. The narrative hasn't been put on hold for this spousal exchange; this is a strong and integral part of the narrative itself.
The most remarkable sequence in the film is one which is easy to recognize and greatly appreciate. It comes near the end of the movie and involves a discussion between Cristi, a fellow officer, and the Boss, a figure we've been hearing a lot about but, up until now, have yet to see. This exchange, told in two takes (the shot is interrupted once by a secretary with a much needed dictionary in hand), vividly gets at the central themes of the piece: the definition of conscience, principal vs. law, and the sometimes morally crushing obligation of carrying out an undesirable task for a flawed occupation.
The Boss berates the two men at every chance he gets, challenging their intelligence by asking them to define certain words and then using a dictionary to prove just how wrong their answers were. One gets the sense that the Boss considers the dictionary ideal reading material; he doesn't know the definitions offhand, but he does know that his two men haven't a clue either. The scene takes its time, but it is not meandering. All three men are shown in the same shot, the two officers sitting facing each other, as the Boss sits behind his desk pulled back in between them. We realize quickly that no one is leaving until the Boss gets his way — stationed in a room waiting for an impending decision, these are three angry men with conflicting verdicts. That we need a chalkboard, some grapes, and closeups of specific words only makes it seem par for the course. Porumboiu uses definitions not to have his characters express themselves, but to drive a wedge between meaning and communication. The film urges us not to get caught up in linguistics. After all, what is toothpaste without the toothbrush, and vice versa?
The 411: Romania's official entry for the Academy Awards foreign film category, Police, adjective sadly did not make it into the final round of voting. What gives? This is a skillfully made film with inspired direction and an eloquent, playful screenplay. It's one of the better foreign efforts of the year (not the best, but one of the better), and I think that anyone with patience should give this film a try. Its execution is slow but never dull. You'll see. Still catching up on the films that played last year at Cannes? Don't miss this one.
