CANNES: If you’ve ever seen an Eastern European movie at a major film festival, there’s one thing you can count on, a corrupt police or judicial system at the center of it. That may seem like a generalization, but institutional corruption has been a centerpiece in Romanian film, especially over the past two decades. It’s no surprise then that Emanuel Parvu‘s “Three Kilometers to the End of the World” is driven by that narrative even when it’s not the most compelling part of the story.
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Set in a small village in the Danube Delta, a small island increasingly more dependent on more liberal tourists, “Kilometers” begins with 17-year-old Adi (Ciprian Chiujdea) walking home from a club with a new friend (Radu Gabriel). It’s obvious the two are smitten, and his new buddy, who is just visiting, is actively trying to convince him to move to the safe confines of Bucharest. We next find Adi arriving home and his father (Bogdan Dumitrache) discovering him bloody and beaten. At a clinic, a doctor examines him and we see countless bruises all over his body. The police chief (Valeriu Andriuță) is on hand, and reassures Adi’s father they will properly investigate.
After a tip about a witness arrives the next morning, the police chief and Adi’s father begin a methodical investigation around the island to weed out the culprits. Things become complicated when it turns out the sons of one of the more relatively affluent residents on the island, Zentov (Richard Bovnoczki), are behind it. Especially since Adi’s father, a relatively poor boat fisherman, owes Zentov a substantial amount of money. When Zentov’s sons reveal they beat up Adi after they saw him kissing the tourist, Zentov and the police chief try to communicate to Adi they want to do whatever they can to make it all go away and for countless reasons. Meanwhile, Adi’s father, is visibly stunned at the revelation, and the reaction of Adi’s mother (Laura Vasiliu) is considerably worse.
You would hope that in 2024, and in a European Union nation no less, Adi’s parents would deal with their own prejudices and have some compassion for their son. And even though they are devoutly religious, they would care more about his well-being than any fears over gossiping neighbors. But, no, oh, no, that is not the case. And even Adi, who has been studying for his university exams in the nearby city of Tulcea, is horrified at what happens next.
Madly desperate for a solution to “cure” her son, Adi’s mother visits the local priest (Adrian Titieni) and convinces him to do an exorcism. Knowing he will not participate, she and her husband allow Adi to be forcibly tied up and gagged while he screams in pain at them during the ritual. And, As the film progresses, Parvu and co-screenwriter Miruna Berescu’s continuing exploration of systematic corruption somehow becomes a means to foster tension over Adi’s fate. That may not be the director’s intention, but you’ll be at the edge of your seat, hoping he finds a way to escape. Fearing a far worse fate awaits him. Is that what Parvu is trying to achieve? We’re not so sure, but you can’t deny the filmmaking prowess it fosters.
As the credits roll, you’re left reeling not only at the outcome but the haunting realization that Parvu has little faith in his homeland. Especially in its government and religious institutions. Again, that’s not necessarily new for Romanian cinema. It’s almost a trope at this point and, to be fair, this scenario could play out in the conservative countryside of many European countries, let alone North America. But Parvu must have some hope that change is possible. And there are signs in Adi’s close friend Ilinca (Ingrid Micu-Berescu) and a late arriving social worker from child services (Alina Berzunteanu). Whether Adi’s parents or parents of their ilk end up part of that change is the question. [B+]