POLICE, ADJECTIVE is, for me, this year’s version of 4 MONTHS, 3 WEEKS, AND 2 DAYS in that it’s a Romanian film playing AFI that came with a really nice post-show dinner attached to it for those of us who are deemed important critics (this time of year is the one season where it’s actually really good to be in this line of work to any degree). I think the publicist was the same for both as well, and they also both feature Vlad Ivanov, whom LAFCA gave an acting award to for his role as an abortionist in 4-3-2 (as we hipsters like to call it, yeahhhh, uh-huh).
It’s a very slow-paced movie at first, and I have to admit that initially my mind wandered (though I did notice the graffiti in the small Romanian town depicted, that among other things makes conspicuous mention of John Cena and the Chicago Bulls). It’s the story of a cop, but told in a realistic fashion that depicts his work matter-of-factly and mundanely…this cop is no action hero, just a guy whose workday is slightly boring, and who comes home and has hilariously pedantic arguments with his wife about the meaning of words.
This seems like a diversion at first, but the movie’s big payoff hinges on the definition of words, and involves the poor sap’s boss. It is worth the wait, if absurdist humor is your bent.
The Q&A afterwards involved the director, Cornelio Porumboiu, and film critic Robert Koehler, a programmer for AFI Fest this year who is also known for his Variety reviews. I like Bob and respect him — he knows more about the current international cinema scene than any other critic in LA, I’d wager — but he cannot say much in a concise fashion. So when he asks the director a question, he’ll speak for about a paragraph’s worth of information, analyzing the movie and essentially working out his written review right there and then, before finally concluding with a question like “Did you feel pigeonholed as a director of absurdist movies?”
The director basically answered that he makes the stories he wants to tell…then looked apologetic, like he felt bad his answer was shorter than Bob’s question. It proceeded like that, with Bob making good points about how the camera acts as a voyeur the way audiences are voyeurs, and Cornelio basically agreeing with him.
The after-party at Cafe Des Artistes involved some very nice fish, though had I seen how much bigger the chicken dish was, I’d have ordered that. Bob got so immersed in talking with everyone that his courses came faster than he could keep up, and at one point had all three in front of him at once. The lavish bar was all free, so I indulged.
This may have hampered my enjoyment afterwards of the movie CASTRO, which has nothing to do with Fidel or San Francisco — it’s about a guy running from people who keep failing to catch him. Also, he seems to be borderline suicidal, and his ex-wife is one of the pursuers. I never really figured out the whats and the whys, especially why I should care. Coulda been my drunken mood, though.
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