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An apartment kitchen: a man and a woman discuss Little Red Riding Hood, their voices hushed, mindful of waking the little girl sleeping next room. Waste land on the city outskirts: behind a line of abandoned trailers, the man silently watches what seems to be a family. The same city, the same man: driving through traffic with two hand-made firing pins for a hunting rifle. The man is 42 years old, his name - Viorel. Troubled by obscure thoughts, he drives across the city to a destination known only to him. Written by
It's plain crap, but it's long (3 hours!). The emperor has no clothes on, folks! Never mind the pretentious 'artsy' and dark filming, the awkward and long shots, the unexplained, unmotivated and undeveloped characters, and the other (very good) film by Mr. Puiu ('The Death Of Mr. Lazarescu'). This one is just a nightmarish vision of a dull life with apparently no events and no insight. At times it seems almost fantastic, and maybe that would have saved a bit this story if it explored the fantastic vein more. But no, it's just a mundane and boring hell, the fashionable (and limited) way of the intelligentsia to look at today's Romania (you know it even from the news: garbage, stray dogs, sloppy people). If Travis Bickle really had no life and if Mr. Scorsese had no brain, the result would be 'Aurora'. What a waste...
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