A Nuance Packed Trip Behind The Iron Curtain

12:08: East of Bucharest (2006), the latest to hail hail from a growing Romanian film economy, is simply shot, dry as a bone, but so packed with meaningful residue that even the coldest cynic would be moved. The film hits late, but none the less like a ton of emotional bricks, falling from the Berlin Wall.

The dark, somewhat misanthropic inhabitants, of a small Romanian town display the kind of personality it took to exist behind the iron curtain. The awkward comedy that oozes from them, is lent to by a total-since of the absurd. They are parodies of people, and they know it. They seem to act in a way things should be, rather than the way they are. Their fiber is in essence the conflict between progress, and the regret of those who got left behind. 

The town itself is as frigid, and bleak as it's dwellers, but like them it also bears nuance of  emotion. It comes across as  a place of nostalgia, but also forgotten abandon. The grey concrete is bitter, for it too has seen better days, even in the hardest of times. 

The film moves dreadfully slow, one scene taking over thirty minutes, but 12:08: East Bucharest is not a film of instant gratification. It is a film that rewards patience. But for those who make it, the aftertaste is remarkably profound. Not a bad movie for Christmastime.