The Death of Mr. Lazarescu

I'm seeing this one rather late, after the rest of you have had your just say about it. Amid the overwhelming praise for this movie, there are obviously a few who didn't quite catch the spirit, and I'll put myself in that camp, but only on a certain level. Christi Puiu's second film definitely has some admirable moments in its technique. The frustration only builds and builds, while Puiu's hand-held camera petutantly records the various layers of absurdity and injustice. Puiu does a fine job of walking the line between overblown satire (because although they leave a bitter taste, the jokes are in there) and exposé-style social commentary. I like the references by some to Fred Wiseman. Though it's a thoroughly manufactured record, it's after all, still a record of a system not without glaring problems, and it carries this weight.

Many of the performances are subtly impressive. I was particularly drawn to the doctors. Each successive "specialist" seemed to want to be done with Lazarescu and the entire film itself. The only time I laughed out loud was at Florin Zamfirescu, the first doctor, the one that looked like an Ewok. His hint of grandiosity despite the crumbling walls around him was right on the money (i.e. He shakes the hand of a man he doesn't seem to even know, as if he's running for office).

The film itself, though, takes a back seat to the social commentary. Puiu must have intended this. His unbearably long takes, the appalling attitude of the medical world, and the formal repetition resemble an essay rather than a narrative. I'm not as interested in comparing this film with Kafka as I am with William Faulkner. Puiu's use of the As I Lay Dying premise isn't the only reason for the comparison. Faulkner's treatment of his subjects, both titular and peripheral, is one of understanding coupled with harsh indictment. This film is of the same attitude.

Even to the very end, the point about Mr. Lazarescu's liver is pounded home. There's nothing the overworked emergency room staff, even if they did give a shit, could do about a lifelong alcoholic and his cirrhosis-hardened liver! Responsibility ultimately lies with the patient! I'm not up on Romanian current events, but it's almost as if Puiu is pointing the finger at his drunk, lethargic countrymen, accusing them of leeching off a universal health care system, still conducting their lives according to some selfish sense of personal entitlement after the communist era. Or maybe that's just how I saw it.