Vara Sentimentala (1985) -- boy finds bread and cunt at CAP Viitoruli. Niste baieti grozavi (1987) -- boy is unhappy with bread and cunt, moves to different-same place, gets better bread and better cunt. Un oaspete la cina (1986) -- boy finds great bread and even better cunt in spite of cunt's mother and other obstacles. Anotimpul iubirii (1987) -- boy gets his choice of bread and cunt or other-same bread and other-same cunt, "picks" and all is well. Alo aterizeaza strabunica (1981) -- boy has bread and cunt, decides maybe cunt sucks, discovers the cunt's alright. Sfintul Mitica Blajinul (1981 / 1965 play) -- ex boy reviews the history of bread and cunt he got, decides it's alright. Ciocolata cu alune (1978) -- boy gets choice of bread, chooses version with cunt on the side. Un suris in plina vara (1963) -- boy doesn't want cunt or bread throughout, changes his mind at the last moment.
I could go on and on and on, but are you starting to see a theme here ? Yes, that's what the title means : bread and cunt.
Before busting on the world scene as a major powerhouse in cinema (we're not including UStardian puke among cinema, for the obvious reasons) in the late 90s, Romania made films for about three to four decadesii. For my entire life I ignored the whole pile, thinking them terrible, so very very bad it's not even worth trying to watch anything in there.
Then Balul de Simbata Seara happened, and I was forced to reconsider. The item is a very strong showing, easily above Solaris and certainly on a level with, say, Daisies. This put me at an intellectual impasse, and being fundamentally an honest man I could find no other solution than wholesale review of the whole god damned library.
They're fucking terrible, lock stock and barrel. Wholesale atrocity against any sense and any sensibility, just utterly miserable crap unworthy of any mention. Literally, the entire production of Romanian cinema (aka "Casa de Filme Unu") in the communist days is a constant, ceaseless rehash of the same theme : a boy finds bread and cunt.
I get it, for the kind of retards, mentally stunted, genetically regrettable that generally flock to socialism and compose socialist experiments, the rehash of "cockroach found food and sexually receptive hole" is just about the entire function of "art" misunderstood as "magical representation". By watching it happen on the silver screen he is making it happen for himself a little, right ? Can there be such a thing as escapism for cockroaches ? Is it a function of cinema ? Do insects dream sometimes ?
The abuse of art, and to get to the bottom of it -- the abuse of representation -- to satisfy the base urges of an entirely subhuman proletariat, disgusting shaved apes unworthy of even being displayed in zoos owing to their trite banality, is simply obscene and in any case scandalous. Practically speaking, Romanian "cinema" 1960-1990 is no better and no different from US television. Same exact crap, but instead of being directed at worthless middle aged women with an incomprehensibly inflated sense of self worth it is directed at worthless young men with an incomprehensibly inflated sense of self worth. Hardly a difference worth the mention in context.
Communist cinema stands for indescribably cringy nonsense, with bad sound tracks that literally lure the girls to my mortification room ("oh, it sounds exactly like 70s porn, what the fuck are you watching ?!"), with horrifying dialogue so stiff and incomprehensibly anti-natural it could have only been spawn by a bureaucracy, with no plot whatsoever. If there's an old dude and a young dude disputing something, you know the young dude's gonna be right. If there's a harem, you know for a fact and will be never wrong : there's going to be a sidekick coming down the road to soak up the spare broad. Maybe a turned dragon, maybe a misunderstood cuckoolander about to get his superpowers, whatever, he's gonna be there. If the hero's being played as young, the sidekick gets the older chick ; if not, vice-versa. There's not even any fridge horror, no spaghetti mess of nonsense. Those'd even be entertaining, after a fashion -- but no such luck here. The whole pile of crap is in point of fact so bad, so utterly, despondently, repetitively, self-identically miserable I can readily believe that notwithstanding what they actually said, the reason Romanians delayed the suspension of the death penalty long enough to shoot Ceausescu on Christmas Day was purely cultural. Guy got shot because his film people made such terrible films for three decades, someone had to be shot for it.
Do not make bad films. You might well end up shot for it.———