Chicago International Film Festival

We waited for our theater to open, a Romanian lady and I, chatting. She hadn’t been home for forty years, she admitted — not even since the end of Communism. Ceausescu (she spat the name like poison) had imprisoned her father for seven years. For what, she didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.

How to discuss a film about which the less you know going in the better…  which may or may not get enough U.S. distribution to matter…  though if it does, you really should try to see… and getting you to do so may depend on someone like me convincing you to… without telling you too […]