Review of 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (2007) by Nishar W — 10 Jul 2009

When the cinema of Western Europe has become so drained of ideas the only two genres that exist are 'World War Two' and 'Absurdly Pessimistic, Pretentious Drama With Added Rape' the more relaxed and awakening former Soviet Blocs, now up to speed with modern movies, are producing such vivid films as to put their capitalist cousins to shame. Romania is one such shining example, having given a short but rich and vibrant output in recent years to make up for the creative strangehold the communist era exercised. Now with a relentless freedom to say and do whatever they like, what has been made is very different from the traditional route of flabby, culturally specific 'comedies'...

'4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days' is an extraordinary film for a surprisingly huge number of reasons. Movies dealing with abortion are nothing new, even with the added explicitness, but this is nothing like before. Whereas 'Vera Drake' put the decidedly un-cheerful subject matter in the most socially strong and understanding era of British history, '4 Months' goes the direct opposite, setting the story in a time when abortion was seen by the general public, and the government, to be the most appalling crime outside of armed conflicts. Taking a leaf from one of its character's books the film doesn't repeat the seriousness of the situation, but instead adds more and more troubling details to the consequences of being found out, which, for once, creates a real tension.

What's more noticeably startling is the expertly constructed method of storytelling. Common in the Romanian New Wave, to a Western audience the incredibly long takes, earthy, naturalistic dialogue and somewhat necessary detachment from the characters themselves is more akin to a theatrical play or documentary. However, '4 Months' is far from theatrical, but not in the self-conscious way of the rambling style of, say, Mr Tarantino. The dialogue is insightful and grounded, but never bland, languid or monotonous, unless it's meant to be. No one can sit through that dinner scene and not feel as painfully bored as Otillia, and as mildly offended at these sexist conservative types. To director Mungiu the camera is not simply an object to observe and record, it's a way of being close to these characters without feeling intruvise. While that emotion is quite unavoidable given the subject, we as an audience feel we are understanding these characters better as people rather than being lectured or instructed in the plots of their lives. It's a very subtle but evident quality.

What makes '4 Months' standout as more than a mere conscience drama is how it handles its material. In any Hollywood movie, the narrative would be little more than swooning strings, softly lit bedrooms and lots of tears and shouting; '4 Months' is almost clinical in its bitter methodology. This exposes our own prejudices about abortion itself: we naturally think this makes women stomp around in a fit of rage and agony as if it's some kind of excruciating disease, when, really, it's a muted act of self-mutiliation, a literal destroying of one's own flesh and blood, both metaphorical and physical. When Otillia comes home she doesn't find Gabita in a state of tear-drenched trauma; she finds her vulnerable and broken, herself curled into a foetal position in memory of an irreplacable part of her soul. The key word here is dignity, but that's not an excuse for glossing over either. That stark shot of a piece of bloody flesh wrapped in a towel is as enigmatic as the box at the end of 'Seven' in that we think we can make out a recognisable shape, but we can't. We see it is Gabita sees it: a shredded shell of a person, nothing but death. It's a haunting image, and the simmering wake of emotion it triggers lingers long throughout the film and after it.

And because of that we're made to confront this issue from the maternal side. Whatever our own excuses for abortion, in an individual case it's the mother who needs to be considered more, because she's the one who not only has to carry it on her conscience, whether for good or bad, but she's the one who's still here and who needs comfort and friendship more than anything else. This is the real message of '4 Months', but, like all great movies, it comes across as incidental. The film's real focus is on the bond between the two women, as much 'sisters' as they would like to (dis)believe.

And it's thanks to a simply dazzling cast that these beings breathe into life. Despite seeming like not trying to put 'effort' into their dialogue, it is, yet again, another sharp reflection on modern life: how many of us put 'effort' into the majority of what we say everyday? Marinca and Vasiliu are stunning as the troubled pair, particularly Marinca as the strong Otillia who meets her responsibilities with a resigned but firm determination. Vlad Ivanov as the sordid abortionist gives a brilliant masterclass in charismatic rhetoric with a soul-destroying ulterior motive, while Alexandru Potocean is suitably annoying as the weak-willed boyfriend who isn't as selfless as he likes to think he is.

In this sense '4 Months' is a convincing feminist film, showing the male figures of the time to be dangerously prudent and understated misogynistic. It's clear throughout that these women are not just physically alone in dealing with the act, but they are also very much emotionally alone when it comes to confronting the ethical and moral dilemmas of what they've done. This is a more realistic evocation of the communist era, a partiarchal soceity totally removed from all compassion or sympathy and obsessed only with personal gratification because of a governmental and social neglect.

However way you look at it, '4 Months' is a work of immense quality, brave, relevant and, in a strange way, inspirational, because instead of wallowing in melodramatic hysterics as Breillat or Noe would think nothing of exploiting, we emerge from the ordeal disturbed but not shamed or indicted, merely informed, enriched and encouraged to try and look at things a little differently.