ivre à même l’éternité, c’est vivre au jour le jour.”
Vă mulțumim pentru realizările de azi!
ă așteptăm mâine cu forțe noi, cu inițiative noi!
Despre Oameni și Melciis a practical illustration of our previous discussion on the unfairness of nature
, taking place in the setting of early post-communist Romania. Which sets the premise for an interesting story.
You see, if you’re a Romanian, then you should understand that, regardless of what those other socialists would have you believe, the 2017 nationalist agenda of the children of the Romanian Communist Party
— that is, PSD, ex-PDSR, ex-FSN, ex-paștele pizdii mamii lor de viermi împuțiți– is not entirely baseless. About a decade and a half before that hopeful beginning consisting of promises on which the EU dreamdidn’t deliver, at least for some… well, about a decade and a half before that, Romanians were being fed the same kind of concocted promises of freedom coming right after the dictator’s bloody death. This so-called freedom meant “we want the Americans to come and give us their cocks” and “Americans” meant pretty much everyone from the West.
Thus, the act of destruction depicted in the movie was conceived, prepared and executed by two sides: the Romanian side, represented by Vladimir (Vișan), and the American side, represented by two Frenchies (Stévenin and son) who want to exploit the opportunities offered by this new banana republic, namely to make sure that the small Aro Câmpulung plant stays down and gets sold piece by piece of scrap metal.
Their plan is almost — but not quite — thwarted by an otherwise smart wannabe influencer cum union leader, George (Vasluianu), who comes up with the not-entirely-bad idea of buying the plant. But not in any conventional way, oh no: his proposal is to crowdfund the acquisition by having the workers cash off sperm donation. This is where the pure, unadulterated Romanian comedy part comes in. Really, there’s nothing more amusing than a bunch of guys — some of them young, most of them in their forties — trying to save the company by donating their seed to Western families, while their conservative wives are all outraged by this heresy. And unlike depicted in bad Hollywood movies, the business proposition fails because that’s just how the story goes.
The rest of the Romanian parts are also as Romanian as they could be: the French teacher wants to impress the Frenchies communist-style, but fails; Manuela (Bârlădeanu) studied her telenovella Spanish and her mother makes great jam, which Frenchie son likes, so he gives the girl the opportunity of her life, anyway, certainly better than being George’s fuckgirl; George herds the derp-flock made up of company “men”; Romanians are unimpressed by them fancy snails; and, among others, Romanians are easily impressed by him Michael Jackson — piece by piece, exactly what you’d expect from a minor culture trying to assimilate into itself that of the conquerors.
And this about sums it all up: ever since the beginning of time, for each Romanian who attempted to do something productive, there were seven others who sat and watched doing nothing, and two others who conspired the former’s demise… or something like that.