RMN is the Romanian translation of "MRI" - the medical machine which takes deep images of the human body including the brain. In a way, renowned Director Cristian Mungiu (4 MONTHS, GRADUATION) is examining the inner souls of his fellow countryman. An X-Ray if you will.
Mungiu's screenplay is set in a small Transylvanian village. Mattias (Marin Grigore), a brute of a man, has returned from a job for hire in Germany to reunite with his estranged wife Ana (Macrina Barladeanu) and young son Rudi (Mark E. Blenyesi) who claims to have seen something so horrible that he can barely speak. Csilla (Judith Slate) manages a local bakery and is also Mattias' old flame. There are obvious tensions, but the town is seemingly idyllic with its snow-capped mountains, abundant livestock and quiet lifestyles.
The outward peace begins to crack when Csilla's bakery is forced to hire three migrants from Sri Lanka to keep operating. The locals have balked at working for minimum wage, but, before long they aim their ire at the black workers who they equate with invading gypsies. Soon the entire populace is riled by their presence, this despite the village's own checkered history with immigration, not to mention so many of they themselves going overseas for work - doubly so now that Romania has joined the E. U..
Mungiu's intentions are clear, but, he doesn't take a direct route. His concerns are more with exploring the inner psychological forces of the villagers' behavior more than their direct actions. The key sequence is a fifteen minute long single take which places Mattias and Csilla as the focus of the frame, while the townspeople rail on airing predictable grievances.
Mungiu's method includes a pair of visual metaphors and a premonition of sorts. The script doesn't all work and the strain of drawing it all together as a whole shows at times. Still, R. M. N. Is a reminder of how universal prejudice and the various incarnations of injustice can be. The acting by Slate and Grigore in particular is quite strong and Mungiu's rigorous intelligence make a definite impact. There are a pair of arresting images towards the end that are hauntingly effective.
Mungiu's screenplay is set in a small Transylvanian village. Mattias (Marin Grigore), a brute of a man, has returned from a job for hire in Germany to reunite with his estranged wife Ana (Macrina Barladeanu) and young son Rudi (Mark E. Blenyesi) who claims to have seen something so horrible that he can barely speak. Csilla (Judith Slate) manages a local bakery and is also Mattias' old flame. There are obvious tensions, but the town is seemingly idyllic with its snow-capped mountains, abundant livestock and quiet lifestyles.
The outward peace begins to crack when Csilla's bakery is forced to hire three migrants from Sri Lanka to keep operating. The locals have balked at working for minimum wage, but, before long they aim their ire at the black workers who they equate with invading gypsies. Soon the entire populace is riled by their presence, this despite the village's own checkered history with immigration, not to mention so many of they themselves going overseas for work - doubly so now that Romania has joined the E. U..
Mungiu's intentions are clear, but, he doesn't take a direct route. His concerns are more with exploring the inner psychological forces of the villagers' behavior more than their direct actions. The key sequence is a fifteen minute long single take which places Mattias and Csilla as the focus of the frame, while the townspeople rail on airing predictable grievances.
Mungiu's method includes a pair of visual metaphors and a premonition of sorts. The script doesn't all work and the strain of drawing it all together as a whole shows at times. Still, R. M. N. Is a reminder of how universal prejudice and the various incarnations of injustice can be. The acting by Slate and Grigore in particular is quite strong and Mungiu's rigorous intelligence make a definite impact. There are a pair of arresting images towards the end that are hauntingly effective.