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The Death of Mr. Lazarescu
May 8, 2006
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, a<br />
widower in his 60s who lives alone with his cats in Bucharest. Feeling nauseous<br />
and stricken with a worsening headache, he telephones an ambulance. Nothing<br />
happens. He calls again, and seeks assistance from his neighbors, who deride him<br />
for drinking too much. Finally, emergency worker Mioara (Luminita Gheorghiu)<br />
shows up, and diagnoses possible colon cancer. From there she and her driver<br />
begin an evening-long odyssey wherein they take their deteriorating patient to a<br />
variety of hospitals and emergency rooms in an effort to secure treatment. </p>
<p>Initially inspired — no kidding — by what the filmmaker saw as the<br />
beautifully false choreography of syndicated American television hit <i>ER</i>,<br />
former painter Puiu found unfortunate affirmation in a real-life case in Romania<br />
in which a patient was shuttled between and refused at five hospitals in one<br />
night before being abandoned on the sidewalk by his emergency caregiver, where<br />
he was found expired the next morning. <b>The evocation of Lazarus, whom Jesus<br />
raised from the dead, and the suffix of “rescu” in the title character’s name<br />
isn’t a coincidence</b>; the film is essentially the Good Samaritan’s story, of one<br />
woman trying, against considerable odds and eventually in vain, to secure aide<br />
for a stranger. </p>
<p><b><i>The Death of Mr. Lazarescu</i> is at times tedious and frustrating</b> —<br />
particularly in that you can’t get a firm and convincing bead on a few<br />
characters, like the neighbors — <b>but it also has a certain mesmeric quality that<br />
doesn’t allow you to give up on it</b>, even if in the specific moment you’re not<br />
that into it. While certain scenes lag, adrenaline shots of unadulterated<br />
reality lie just around the bend: the interruptive potholes of a long sequence<br />
on the road in the ambulance recalls the hypnotic crunch of gravel underfoot in<br />
Gus Van Sant’s <i>Gerry</i>, and the film captures with casual brilliance the<br />
idle chatter of medical professionals as they await a test result or examination<br />
space. </p>
<p>What hamstrings the film on some level is its prosaic opening, before Mr.<br />
Lazarescu is diagnosed, and the fact that its production technique — eschewing<br />
close-ups — keeps us at an emotional distance. We can’t really identify with the<br />
characters, we are voyeurs glimpsing into their world. </p>
<p>For viewers ready to commit and focus on the universality located in this<br />
downward-spiraling plight of one man, though, <b>there’s a slurry beauty here</b>. The<br />
performances of both Fiscuteanu and particularly Gheorghiu (Edie Falco would<br />
play her in the American remake that could never come to pass) are what pull<br />
<i>The Death of Mr. Lazarescu</i> along; eponymous credit aside, it’s the latter<br />
who becomes the audience’s proxy, as she’s increasingly insulted and<br />
marginalized by doctors that resent her doggedness. Already playing in New York,<br />
Los Angeles and a few other major cities, look for the movie to expand<br />
throughout the summer, from American distributor Tartan Films.</p>
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