30 July 2020

Bucharest Tales, by Lidia Vianu (ed.)


Published in 2014 by Contemporary Literature Press (the online publishing house of the University of Bucharest), Bucharest Tales is part of the New Europe Writers series, the aim of which is to collect stories and poems relating to a particular city (others are Tales from Warsaw, Prague, Budapest and Ljubljana).  New Europe Writers’ aim is to ‘capture the spirit of a united Europe.’  Much of the editorial work and translation was carried out by the University’s MA Programme for the Translation of the Contemporary Literary Text.

Editor Lidia Vianu describes Bucharest Tales as ‘a collection of stories and poems about old and new Bucharest, written by Romanian writers of two generations, and by foreigners who have come to know Romania and its capital,’ though while it provides a connecting thread, despite the title Bucharest does not always appear.  The book presents a mix of new voices and well-established writers such as Dan Lungu and Mircea Cărtărescu, and as there are over 50 contributions in about 260 pages most are short.  Some are extracts from longer works, such as Mike Ormsby’s chapters from Never Mind the Balkans, Here’s Romania.  Where appropriate the Romanian and an English translation are presented in parallel.  Contributions were not always originally written in Romanian: quite a few were written in English, and a couple are translated from other languages.

With so many voices there is bound to be a multiplicity of takes on Romania.  If there is an overarching theme it is interrogating past history and the changes it has wrought: these include the meaning of independence, the shift from monarchy to fascism to communism, then capitalism and the EU; and the processes of demolishing and rebuilding both society and the physical structure of the city.  Modernisation is considered a mixed blessing, bringing with it corruption, wide disparities in wealth, heavy traffic, homogeneous buildings with a loss of style, fringe beliefs – in general the atomisation of society.  City life can be surreal, and wry humour used as a coping mechanism.  There is some nostalgia for the old times, when people knew where they were even if they experienced shortages and less personal autonomy.

It is always valuable to be exposed to different perspectives, but Bucharest Tales would have been improved by including more Romanian writing and less by non-Romanians.  The latter may be valid as a depiction of Bucharest, but it does not always have the feel of an insider’s lived experience.  A few of the contributors, judging by their biographical details, have had little connection with Romania, making one wonder to what extent the selection was based on easy availability of material and permission issues.  Even with those qualifications, the prose aspects are generally engaging, though some of the poems feel weak in comparison.  Nearly all the writers included were still alive at the time the anthology was compiled, which reinforces the contemporary feel and Makes Bucharest Tales a useful window on that contradictory city.

23 July 2020

București NonStop / Bucharest NonStop


București NonStop, directed by Dan Chișu (2015), intercuts a number of stories over the course of a night, linked very loosely by a small 24-hour convenience shop (the titular NonStop) opposite a block of flats in a dingy part of Bucharest.  The shopkeeper, Achim, watches people drift by, his cynical exterior hiding a compassionate heart.  Unlike in Clerks (1994) the shop is not the focus, though one suspects the influence of the name Quick Stop Groceries in Kevin Smith’s film on NonStop, and Achim’s back-to-front baseball cap echoes that worn by Silent Bob.

The heart of the story is the block itself and a handful of its residents.  A prostitute who wants to leave the city to see her child is driven to one last trick before she goes to the railway station without giving her pimp his 50% cut.  A pair of low-level criminals who scam motorists by staging accidents have to charge their battery before setting off.  A taxi driver who comes to collect the prostitute lends them his cables.  While waiting for her at her appointment he suspects her of intending to skip and phones the intimidating pimp, leading to violence.

A cheating boyfriend tries to get his girl back but cannot get into the building to express his contrition, despite his best efforts; his mobile’s battery has expired and at his wits’ end he begs a reluctant Achim for help.  In her flat the girlfriend is being consoled by, and torn between, two friends, one of whom thinks she should dump him, the other arguing he should be given a second chance.  The errant lover throws stones at her window, but some fall against the window of the flat below in which, the best realised of the strands, an elderly couple bicker, nagging away at old hurts.

Through all this, Achim is a stable point in the little shop, acting different parts as circumstances require: offering advice, berating or helping those who pass before his window.  As dawn breaks the stories are resolved, for better or worse (with poetic justice in the case of the scammers, reconciliation for the estranged lovers, an act of contrition towards the prostitute by the taxi driver, and an abrupt conclusion to the old couple’s long marriage).  In the final shots the camera looks down on NonStop far below as life continues around it, the new day promising fresh dramas on this small stage.

For some reason the film is billed as a comedy, but while it has its amusing moments the general tone is compassionate but unsentimental.  The one unredeemed character is the pimp, a boorish, bullying, hypocritical family man who abandons a wedding to exercise his power over a helpless woman.  Otherwise, in its unflinching look at characters who have not always behaved well one finds selfishness and sadness, but in some of them also kindness, generosity, and a desire for connection.

The subtitled film is available on Cinepub.