Written by Leonardo Goi
Translator: Yi Ersan
Proofreading: Iris
Source: Filmmaker (August 10, 2023)
On a sweltering afternoon in Locarno, Radu Jude and I sat in a container-turned-interview booth where his new film, Don't Expect Too Much of the End of the World, premiered a few days earlier. Social media plays a major role in the film, an astonishing microcosm of life in the 21st century, which aims to document and dissect the context of this digital age.
Don't Expect Too Much of the End of the World (2023)
Don't Expect Too Much of the End of the World, written and directed by Radu Jude, is a collage of black comedy and road movies. At the center of the story is Angela (Ilinka Manolasch), an overworked production assistant whose company is employed by an Austrian entrepreneur to shoot job safety videos for his Romanian employees. Angela drove around Bucharest to audition, with people disabled by work — all of whom voluntarily admitted that they had failed to take the most basic precautions to justify their bosses in exchange for a €500 bonus.
But Jude also interspersed the heroine's hustle and bustle with clips from another film, Lucian Bratu's Angela Moves On (1981), whose protagonist also travels around Bucharest to make ends meet by driving taxis. An earlier insert card suggests that there is a "dialogue" between the two films, but the relationship between them—despite the many similarities between the two eras, and the difficulties that both "Angela" have to face—is much more than a continuous history.
As Jude pointed out in our conversation, Bratu's film is a highly subversive one – a rare work that managed to evade censorship under Ceausescu's regime and captured the extremely impoverished side of the country that no other film of the era had ever thought to be made public.
Jude's new work also exudes a certain subversion. If the safety video Angela is making is ultimately a reminder to follow the rules, Don't Expect Too Much of the End of the World is constantly breaking the mold. The film's footage switches from film to digital, jumping between Bratu's story, Angela's present-day urban roaming (shot by Marius Panduru with a very grainy 16mm lens) and Angela's other identity on the Internet, "Bobita", an extremely misogynistic comic book who insults women through TikTok short videos.
The story of Don't Expect Too Much of the End of the World is ups and downs, winding and twisting, replacing the linear three-act structure with a kaleidoscopic layout; This free-spirited nature and boundless curiosity are perhaps its greatest strengths. The film is also full of countless references to movies and books, full of mockery of the country's elite, religious figures and foreign forces that plunder the country, it seems to exist in an infinitely permeated universe, susceptible to various influences and stimuli, and its formal creativity is a testament not only to Jude's creativity, but also to the vitality that the medium of cinema can exude when one is not afraid to test its limits and possibilities.
Q: Let's start with the title of the film, which I know comes from the Polish poet Stanisra Jerzy Leck, but I'm curious to know what attracted you to use it as a title.
Jude: Well, this phrase expresses a contradiction, which is exactly what I wanted. On the other hand, it conveys a feeling of burnout, but at the same time with a clear irony. You can take it as a joke or as something serious. I think the film is also in a way.
Q: Speaking of irony, I remember you once described your last work "Unlucky Sex, Crazy Yellow Film" as "unhumorous comedy" -
Jude: That's right!
"Unlucky Sex, Crazy Yellow Film" (2021)
Q: But that movie, like this one, is full of hilarious twists and turns. This made me curious about the role of humor in your work. You seem to use humor as a weapon to both mock those in power and give some dignity to the oppressed. Like Boccaccio or Dario Fo.
Jude: Dario Fo? I've never read his work? Is he a great writer? Should I read his work?
Q: That's right! You use sarcasm in a similar way.
Jude: Well, I remember him. I never seem to have heard his name (Jude pulls out his cell phone and types). Humor is a complicated issue, because there are all kinds of humor – aggressive humor, lighthearted humor... I'm always reluctant to use this term because I think it covers too many different things. Although for me it has only one or two meanings.
Radu Jude
First of all, the humor I'm interested in is the kind of humor that helps you see things from a new perspective. For example, take both of us. We sat together and looked serious. But when you stop and think about it, the whole scene is actually ridiculous, they locked us up in - what is this, a container? It's ridiculous. So, on the one hand, I was drawn to this humor, which comes from a change in the way things are viewed. Also, I'm not a doer, and I always feel that humor is at least a desire to rethink. I'm happy to make my scenes last a second longer than they should, because the humor I'm looking for is often in those moments.
Second, I feel that humor—especially in this film—can be an avant-garde and powerful tool for criticism, thanks to the way it amplifies and exaggerates things. It's like comics: exaggerate a detail out of proportion. For example, the humor in Charlie Hebdo, I like very much, it criticizes things through these absurd exaggerations. That's the principle we're following in this film. That's what I and the actors think about humor. Angela's avatar on social media, Bobita, was created by the actress who played her.
Q: Did she create an account before she made the film?
Jude: That's right! In fact, it was years before we worked together. When I contacted Ilinka, I told her I needed her to star at the same time as her internet avatar.
Q: In your films, you often use a mix of elegant and vulgar actors – correct me if I'm wrong – for example, in Unlucky Sex, Crazy Pornography, you choose experienced actors and a lot of actors who have only acted in sitcoms.
Jude: And the worst sitcom of that kind! (laughs)
Q: Is there any particular purpose for this choice?
Jude: Adam Gopnik and Kirk Vanido co-wrote a book called High and Low, which explores the relationship between modern art and popular culture. I think the answer is in it. The book argues that modern art tends to be a mix of elegance and vulgarity, but for me, people need to appreciate the two as different things.
When people say they only like vulgar movies, I always find it populist. Interestingly, this impulse sometimes comes from intellectuals, film critics, and filmmakers. I'm not against people who just want to see Chuck Norris movies. But for me, to really love cinema, to love culture, you have to be able to appreciate both genres equally. There is nothing more unpleasant than moderation. I prefer to see something vulgar or elegant.
Q: In your films, these two forces always seem to exist in a dialectical relationship, and you don't necessarily resolve the friction.
Jude: That's right! That's right.
Q: It reminds me of the subtitle of "Unlucky Sex, Crazy Pornography": "A Sketch of a Popular Movie." Would you put the same label on this new film?
Jude: I might call it a sketch of a social movie, or a film that focuses on social issues. But if you think about it, the concept of "sketch" - I think "Don't Expect Too Much of the End of the World" may be more like a sketch than "Unlucky Sex, Crazy Pornography". I think this style hints at a range of potential possibilities that may be stifled in a more comprehensive work.
For example, the two stories in Don't Expect Too Much of the End of the World are basically things that happened to me or those around me. The first is the story of a young production assistant I know who died in a car accident because he fell asleep while driving because he was overworked. The second is the story that happened to me when I was filming a job safety video for a company. They seemed well-intentioned, and in the end I found out that they just wanted to fool the employees. The whole film is basically based on what I know.
I had these two stories first, but at first I didn't know how to put them together. My fear is that I'm going to have to cut out a lot of what you call dialectical elements, a lot of contradictions — none of that will work in a complete story. But I hope that these contradictions will exist. So I decided to connect these two ideas, but also somehow separate them.
Of course, it is difficult to prove this to the capital during the financing process - why have two stories, why not just one? So I ended up calling them stories A and stories B. The second story is basically a B-grade film with my style. It's shorter, faster, and more inflammatory. I think it's cost-effective to watch two movies for the money of one movie.
Q: You also interspersed Angela's journey through Bucharest with Lucian Bratu's 1981 film Angela. An earlier insert card indicates that there is a "dialogue" between the two films. What kind of relationship do you think there is between the two.
Jude: That's a hard question to answer. When I had a clearer idea of the story, I started looking for a model for a female-centered Romanian road movie. In the end, it turned out that there were very few works other than Bratu's work, and although it was not well known, I felt that young film critics were now rediscovering the work and praising it as an "original feminist film" – indeed.
Angela Moving On (1981)
Beyond that, the most important thing for me is that Bratu's film portrays a woman living under a communist regime, an era when people had to face political censorship. I want to juxtapose this portrait with the portrait of a woman doing much the same work in Romania today – and compare our political freedoms today to the restrictions of the Ceausescu regime.
Q: But it's a history of both continuations and changes. Watching the film shuttling between the two storylines, I can't help but notice some similarities between the two eras. The first is rampant misogyny, and the second is the financial difficulties that affect the two Angela.
Jude: Of course, it's because Angela Moving On – a film that was eventually approved by Romanian censors – was very subversive, as was Brathu himself. However, you can only catch a glimpse of this subversiveness in a few real shots scattered everywhere, and the details you see in the windows of Angela taxis are flashed in a flash. If you look closely, you'll see people lining up for food, which was never allowed at the time! So I decided to slow down these moments and let everyone see the details. You can now see poverty, social problems – there are all sorts of implications. I would like to commend the subversive nature of this film.
Q: I'm glad to hear you use that phrase because it reminds me of a quote you made about Don't Expect Too Much of the End of the World: "My films are becoming more and more amateurish." This trait gives a very rebellious feeling, and from this creates a sense of playfulness.
Jude: That's actually something Jacques Rivette said when talking about Rossellini's films, and it goes back to what we said earlier. Movies, not to mention television, and what you see on streaming platforms these days, are full of rules about how the script should work, how the credits should be presented, how the financing should be obtained... Everything is predetermined and controlled. I've also worked in theater before, and things are very different there.
Maybe it's because there is less money involved, I'm not sure. You may not have as many opportunities to express yourself, but you are more free. In the world of cinema, those who don't play by the rules are either rebellious filmmakers, visionaries — like Godard, who is probably the greatest example of this — or amateurs who break the rules because they don't know the rules or don't care about them.
I put in so much effort to become a professional filmmaker that now I feel stuck in the middle. Not only on a professional level, but also psychologically. Because these rules prevent you from making bold attempts. So I made a conscious effort to go back to amateur status. I think Rossellini is a model for this, and Rivette is right. Few people pay attention to Rossellini's films made after the 60s of the 20th century. There are also few mentions of his films shot in India or his TV movies. I remember watching these movies for the first time 15 or 20 years ago and thinking they were worthless.
How did Rossellini turn into such a sloppy filmmaker? But now after reading more of his books, and watching these movies again, I actually fall in love with them. Because they deviate from the rules. He despised movies, but still wanted to make them. These late films emerged from this dialectical and contradictory. They're not successful at all – I mean, they're not Love on the Edge of the Volcano or Touring Italy, but they're still very, very good works. Today, this amateur spirit has gone beyond the traditional film category. Have you seen TikTok short videos in Romania?
Love on the Edge of the Volcano (1950)
Q: It doesn't seem to be.
Jude: Come on, I'll show you now. (Jude pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through some TikTok videos — synchronized dancing, lip-syncing, pet antics, pranks, gags) that you won't find in movies. This is an amateur movie. For me, these things are much more interesting, much more provocative, and much more perverse than all the movies that come out today.
Of course, I also see the problems with this platform, and the toxic ideology behind it. But if you're honest with yourself, as a film director, you have to admit that these videos have a much more powerful impact than what we make.
Q: Just like your film and Bratu's film, all of these images — TikTok videos, a handful of Zoom phone videos, clips from Angela Moving On, and black-and-white footage of Angela driving through Bucharest — seem to have conversation. I'm curious to know what kind of tension you see between them.
Jude: I wanted to create a film nation through this work, where all these images and different shots can coexist and collide. I don't know what kind of depth their interactions will produce, but I believe that film is superficial art, and the more you do on those surfaces, the easier it is to see some depth in the way they interact. I may not be right, but for me, movies all start at the surface. If you can portray the surface well, then some fascinating ideas will automatically emerge from the depths.
Q: Can you elaborate on your reasons for switching between different styles in the film – from black and white 16mm film while Angela was driving to footage shot with a digital camera? What inspired you from your communication with photographer Marius Panduru?
Jude: This shift is necessary. When I tried to incorporate archival imagery into this film, I kept trying to make them look different from the others. At first, I thought that the footage of Angela's drive in Bucharest could be filmed with a mobile phone. But we already have Bobita clips on social media, and I want each one to have its own unique texture. So I wanted to shoot modern footage with color lenses and color grade them differently, just as Soderbergh did in Drug Network – Mexico is partly yellowish and partly blue.
Drug Network (2000)
In the end I decided to shoot on black and white 16mm film. There is a printing plant in Hungary, and it's not expensive – if you don't shoot a lot of film. I don't want to shoot too much either! I wanted to shoot like Warhol: fast, with very few shots, always accepting unexpected surprises. We did a test in the lab, and we picked up this film, and it's very grainy. It was a learning process and I enjoyed it immensely. I don't really know how long we'll be able to use this format – I hope it won't go away anytime soon – and I'd love to take advantage of it, explore it as much as I can before it's gone.
Q: At the Berlinale Awards earlier this year, you said that "the script is a bookkeeper's control tool." How does your own creative process unfold? Will you shoot exactly as scripted, or will you leave room for improvisation?
Jude: A combination of both. The first drafts of the scripts I wrote were always more traditional because I knew it was all I needed to get financing. But then I'll do more machining and tweaking on it. As for improvisation, it depends on how you define it. I feel like when we talk about improvisation, we usually mean the way we work with actors. But for me, the real improvisation in the film is the way the car travels and the urban areas it passes through, which are not pre-set. After Ilinka starts the car, we tell her exactly where to drive based on the traffic. That's what I call improvisation.
At the same time, I made the film react to everything that was happening around it. That's why a lot of the elements in the film are taken from the news, such as the death of the Queen of England, or the constant mention of King Charles, who has a manor house in Romania and is an important player in our media map. And Saman Rushdie - these events and people were hot topics at the time. That's because I wanted the film to be based in a specific time and place.
I feel like many filmmakers are trying to make "universal" or "eternal" films. And I'm the opposite. I want my film to feel very present, very concrete, very relevant. Some people panic at the thought that their film will look old a year or two after it is released. But I hope so, and I want them to feel anachronistic and even outdated. That's what I like as an audience. I'm not interested in the perfect movie.
Of course, when you happen to come across a great movie or a great book, you may feel very moved. But I'm more interested in discovering potential in my work and exploring ideas. The movie itself may not be perfect or sophisticated. But I want them to be more dynamic, organic, more authentic, bursting with possibilities.