Wednesday, February 19, 2014


Emile Loteanu was the screenwriter as well as the director of the film mentioned in my last post, Gypsies Camp Near Heaven. 

There is a scene in the film that bemuses me. I'd like to think Loteanu was poking a bit of fun at himself, as well as at other would-be artistes. In this scene, the swashbuckling Loiku Zobar, greatest horse thief in the world, has just stolen a perfect white mare for his proud lady-love, when he arrives with his friends on the scene of the abandoned Gypsy camp--he doesn't realize that the caravans are gone because soldiers chased them off, or that his father will betray him for the sake of the rest of the tribe--

While Zobar is staring at the smoking camp-fires, a strange-looking cavalcade begins bumbling, howling and mewling down the road. Superficially, it resembles a Gypsy caravan--an oddly assembled wagon, a group of "normal" men singing, enjoying themselves, banging a drum and, in general, causing a chaotic ruckus.

One of Zobar's friends asks, confused, "Who are they? Are they crazy?"

Zobar replies, "No, brother, they are--artistes."

The character of Zobar, played by Grigore Grigoriu, is the consciousness (and conscience) of the film--in my opinion, he embodies the director's vision--that the genuine artists are those who are most "real"--the Gypsies--whose lives are lived on the edge of a knife, and whose perennial future is The Road. The rest are pale impersonations.

But Zobar is willing to acknowledge those who attempt to imitate his craft.


Tim Buck said...


Iulia Flame said...

There are so many other aspects of the film I could have commented on: how it was reverse subversive; although properly critical (for its times) of capitalism, it highlighted a spirit of creativity and dissidence...or that it sings of the freedom of the spirit in a material world...but for some reason, this little directorial "aside" caught my eye. Thanks for stopping by.

of fluid dynamics and flight In another dream, Tulugaq, the Raven, flies over the ocean. She, the sea, hungers for Chronos. A drum is ...

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