Psychological Identity From The Film Of Mihaileanu A Psychotherapy

A reporter asked Bergman, "You always make the same movie?". "Is that this is my movie, sir." Radu Mihaileanu was born in Bucharest in 1958 into a Jewish family. His father, Mordechai Buchman, communist and journalist, returning from Nazi labor camps, he changed his name to Ion Mihaileanu rumanizar his Jewish origins. In 1980, Radu Ceaucescu flees for France, where he developed his career in the world of film has a first-cine.Mihaileanu, and one that just opened in France, I have not managed to see, but there are three major works of this kind, absolutely recommended, supporting a common thread:

- The Train of Life: During the Second World War in order to escape the Nazis, a group of Jews in a small town in Eastern Europe organizes a convoy pretending that it is a train that goes to prison a Nazi camp. Some of them, despite the reservations, they must pose as Nazi soldiers, all to prevent the people are exterminado.La best of the three for my taste, fun, and transgressive (do comedy of the Shoah !). It's like prison experiment at Stanford horny.

- Go and live: Thanks to the initiative of the State of Israel and the United States, in 1985 conducted an extensive operation to move thousands of Ethiopian Jews (Falashas) to Israel. An Ethiopian Christian mother urges her son to declare a Jew, not to starve. The child comes to the Holy Land as it appears as an orphan she adopts a French Sephardic familla living in Tel-Aviv. Spend childhood afraid that their double secret is discovered, his double lie: it is neither Jew nor an orphan, just know who your mother.

Very beautiful, intimate, predictable but honest some times beaten.

- The concert: In the era of Brezhnev, Andrei Filipov was responsible for directing the magnificent orchestra of Bolshoi. However, disgraced for refusing to discriminate against Jewish musicians, live thirty years as janitor of the institution. Discovered incidentally when a fax from a theater in Paris which is responsible for holding a concert in the French capital, Andrei comes up to his old band together and replace the current Bolshoi to get a second oportunidad.La more Bland but still fucks everywhere and catches you in your rambling, though at times you go the clip ... The music, extraordinary.

Some critics say it lacks realism (guess they are critics who read the guide instead of the Quixote Telephone or One Hundred Years of Solitude), others that his technique is excellent, no photography is superb and occasionally fails rhythm (and the occasional hole dash). So what? It need not be perfect, because it is authentic, honest. Mihaileanu's film, the film, it is this: identity, who you are despite the packaging. Identity is not a lot of things: neither the nation nor religion nor ideology. Identity is possibly to be nothing, or at least born there. The identity is to choose, or better is a choice (and that's something intimate, unassailable space): the Jews persecuted by Nazis trasvisten in SS, the black refugee is sent by his mother to become a Jewish orphan outcast Russians pretend to be members of the Bolshoi. Each seeks to be from the same site: something else to pretend to be dissociated from that lie just to play, and become intimately into what we are seekers of freedom, love, or harmony, without definition of others.

To Mihaileanu seems to be an essential idea: identity is a private freedom and responsibility that only define oneself, and does it in their choices (to the extent that ultimate freedom is to contradict himself, pretend, pretend it is not) . On the other hand, one of the keys to this cross-dressing that goes beyond the humor about oneself, or at least peaceful coexistence with the absurd (especially ovejil). Nothing is sacred, except what you choose freely for themselves what is, and that in each case to Mihaileanu just beyond oneself: Stream of Life, Closing on Return of Love Received, Beauty of Music. The ego is not what it seems to be, is always something else, a deep throb without definitive form, a knowledge intimate and ineffable, an undercurrent that can poke fun at his own costume and play with it.