The Autobiography of Nicolae Ceauşescu by Andrei Ujică

As the past few years have witnessed a major buzz around Romanian films, it’s easy to understand why the Cannes Film Festival chose to dwell on communism by screening a historical documentary. The political and social turbulence of the 20th century has certainly left its mark on contemporary Romanian cinema: whether explicitly discussing historical events or using them as a background for personal drama, directors like Corneliu Porumboiu, Radu Muntean and Cristian Mungiu have found inspiration in the recent dark past. It’s this past that Andrei Ujică works with: as in his 1992 documentary, Videograms of a Revolution, a long research process played its part in organizing archive footage into a narrative. The Autobiography of Nicolae Ceauşescu is a history lesson and an invitation to remember. Ujică delivers a collage-portrait of a figure now embedded in pop culture: for many, Ceauşescu is a subject for jokes, while for the brainwashed elderly, his memory stirs up nostalgia and regret. The film is also a demonstration of an effect that few history books talk about: anyone can believe he’s a genius if he is constantly told so.

In never-ending monologues, meanings get lost between the lines. Most public speeches or press conferences shown in the film are subtle battles between demagogy and common sense. These battles had no stake, as the power was already won: their only purpose was to put logic to sleep and kill curiosity. Worried faces shown at natural disasters, polite smiles during state visits, and stores filled with quality food were all the people needed to know. In between, the royal couple of an anti-bourgeois “heaven” relaxes in luxurious mansions or by the sea. Faced with a grainy and saturated cinematography, the audience is free to laugh at the private clumsiness of a once almighty persona.

Now that youth is no longer wasted on exaggerated choreographies or singing lyrics that nobody believes in, a new generation is trying to define itself. Since interest in recent history has been blown away by a questionable educational system, their heritage is mainly based on urban legends and psychological leftovers. Almost twenty-one years after the so-called “revolution”, many people still fear thought-crime and wait for higher powers to show the path and give commands. Among mentalities that are as immutable as Ceauşescu’s megalomaniac architectural dreams, freedom exists, but only for the open-minded.

By Andreea Dobre