Now and Then: Back in Romania

 A pair from Cristian Mungiu -- his latest and going back to his breakthrough from 2007:

R.M.N. (B+) - Mungiu's gloomy, dimly lit drama about xenophobia in Transylvania builds slowly to a chilling payoff. It feels like two movies spliced together. 

One story, which doesn't reveal itself fully until the second half, is about the Romanian villagers' hatred of Sri Lankan immigrants who fill jobs at a bakery that no one else will take (and because Romanians prefer to pursue better wages elsewhere, like in Germany). The other narrative revolves around Matthias (Marin Grigore), who returns from a bad work experience in Germany to his estranged wife (Macrina Barladeanu) and their child, Rudi, who has stopped speaking after a mysterious fright in the woods. Matthias also hounds after an old flame, Csilla (Judith State), who is now divorced and still holds a candle for him. (She also plays the cello, and the gorgeous theme from "In the Mood for Love" is woven through the movie.) He also has an ailing father (whose sheep are being poached, either by humans or bears).

Matthias broods, threatens his wife, chastises his son for being effeminate, and treats Csilla like a convenient landing spot. Csilla owns the bakery that imports the workers whose lives eventually are threatened by the ugly denizens. (The film is based on a true story.) The sad, ironic twist is that the bullies are ethnic Hungarians living in Romania and looking down on the other immigrants (as well as canceling their bread orders; they're obsessed with the idea of people of color touchng their food). The Christian church is complicit in indulging and enabling the ignorance of the townfolk.

A pivotal scene during the final third gathers the residents for a town-square meeting, where the residents actually score some points regarding the low pay of the bakery (while flinging conspiracy theories about the hygiene of foreigners). The scene starts out played for laughs but actually digs deep into the issues of immigration, xenophobia and the overbearing policies of the European Union. The meeting is interrupted by a tragedy, and then Mungiu builds suspense toward a bittersweet conclusion. The eeriness of The Other haunts the movie from beginning to end.

FOUR MONTHS, THREE WEEKS, TWO DAYS (2007) (A) - Still Mungiu's masterpiece, here he tracks the harrowing journey of a college student seeking an illegal abortion in the 1980s. The story is raw and powerful, neither glorifying nor condemning the practice.

Laura Vasiliu is chilling as Gabita, who, as the title suggests, is farther along in her pregnancy that she lets on. Gabita is infantalized herself, coming off not as a cunning or callous young woman but instead as a victim of her circumstances. She is assisted by Otilia (Annamaria Marinca), her dorm roommate who takes charge of the situation and takes over the film.

Like in Todd Haynes' "Carol," it is the secondary character who is the true focus of the movie. Otilia is the emotional center of this drama. She tussles with her boyfriend -- at one point hinting that she, too, might be pregnant and in the same fix as Gabi -- and negotiates with the abortionist when he demands more that the money they've come up with. The deal she arranges is degrading, but she soldiers through it.

After Gabi's procedure, Otilia takes a detour to attend a birthday party for her boyfriend's mother. Marinca is riveting as she endures the ramblings of judgmental bourgeois adults, all the while worried about whether Gabi will recover without complications.

Mungiu employs a documentary approach. He doesn't turn away from the clinical procedure performed in a hotel room. And he is not shy about showing the practical aftermath of having an abortion. But in many ways, his sterile approach offers a reminder that this is a common occurrence for two typical young women during any era. The no-nonsense abortion provider Mr. Bebe (a chilling Vlad Ivanov) is portrayed not as a monster but as a gruff tradesman who isn't above exploiting vulnerable women while he also helps them.

Gabita's choice is neither surprising nor flippantly made. This is a sober depiction of a day in the life of these two young women, and no matter your personal point of view, you might find insight into a divisive issue. Throughout, Marinca is simply riveting, right down to the final shot, as her soulful eyes turn to the camera, reminding all viewers of their role in all of this.