Gatlif has created a montage of peoples, places, music, life, death and religion which grows thrustingly into this tale of the darkly beautiful Zingara (Argento), determined to find the musician who made her pregnant. This takes her into mysterious depths of Romania where she abandons her sister to hit the road with a street kid in tow, before falling for itinerant junk trader Tchangalo (Unel). Whether it's an explosion of dancers at a street festival or an explosion of feathers in a pillow fight, the screen is constantly buzzing with swarms of images - say, if Marc Chagall, instead of painting flying fiddlers, designed Bollywood movies. But the camera-work, by Celine Bozon, also uses the deep-focus option of Noir as much as the wide-screen close-up, and makes the best of the cities, markets and broad, bleak landscapes. So it's comparable to Gatlif's previous work, as well as having echoes of Serbian director Emir (Black Cat, White Cat) Kusturica. In addition to the wild traditional music there is a lot of additional music, some quite haunting, written for the film by the director with Delphine Mantoulet. There have been complaints from some viewers that costumes are being worn by the wrong people, or one country's music is being played by foreigners; but this is an impressionistic film, and should not be judged as a documentary. In the end it's the story that matters. Until you get to the end, it's the barrage of imagery and the music of life that matter. I'm talking about the film, of course.
Review of Transylvania
