Cristian Mungiu’s ‘R.M.N’ Review – A Nuanced Exploration Of Nationalism And Ethnic Conflict

Cristian Mungiu’s captivating drama R.M.N. takes us to the heart of an isolated mountain village, where a sense of unease hangs heavy in the air. Young Rudi (Mark Edward Blenyesi) is gripped by an unshakable fear that has rendered him speechless. He can’t bring himself to walk to school alone or venture into the nearby woods, even in broad daylight. Matthias (Marin Grigore), Rudi’s father, is infuriated by his son’s timidity, and he believes that if Rudi were more like the other boys, then he wouldn’t be so paralyzed by fear.

But the threat that looms over the village isn’t some external force like a bear or a monster. It’s something that has been lurking in the shadows for years—a quiet and insidious presence that has poisoned the community from within. Matthias’s strained relationships with his father and son are already on shaky ground, and the growing sense of unease only serves to exacerbate the tension between them.

As the story unfolds, we’re drawn deeper into the mystery of what’s really happening in this remote corner of the world. The tension builds with each passing moment, and we’re left wondering whether the truth will be revealed before it’s too late. But at its core, R.M.N. is a story about the complicated bonds between fathers and sons and the ways in which fear and uncertainty can strain those bonds to the breaking point.

Cristian Mungiu’s R.M.N. is based on a real-life town hall meeting in Transylvania that is nothing short of dramatic. Mungiu captures the essence of the meeting in a 17-minute unbroken shot, which is a feat of realism and genius. With over two dozen speaking roles, a crowd of extras, and overlapping dialogue in multiple languages, Mungiu’s film immerses you in the heated public debate that took place. The scene is set with the village mayor overseeing the debate, where the locals are presenting their cases for or against allowing the Sri Lankan bakers to stay in town. The bread factory owner and manager defend their choice to hire workers from the South Asian country. It’s a scene that lays bare everything simmering under the surface of the town and between the two main characters.

As the film builds towards the town hall sequence, director Cristian Mungiu masterfully paints a portrait of a community with a rich and complex history. Through the eyes of protagonist Matthias, a Romanian man who faced discrimination while working in a German slaughterhouse, we see a community marked by diverse cultures and backgrounds, and relationships that have evolved over time. Matthias visits his estranged wife and son, grappling with his own feelings about masculinity and tough love, while also tending to his ailing father’s sheep farm. In the midst of all this, he reconnects with Csilla (Judith State), an old flame with differing views on migrant workers, despite Matthias’ own experiences with discrimination.

Meanwhile, Csilla manages a bread factory that’s struggling to find workers to secure an EU grant. Ads for local workers go unanswered, so she legally hires two Sri Lankan workers, with plans to hire more. But when the Sri Lankan workers arrive, the town erupts with racist backlash, from a boycott of the bread to death threats on social media. Csilla tries to calm the situation, even inviting the workers for dinner, but intolerance quickly disrupts any moment of peace.

The film Racasa Mare Natura (R.M.N.) is a thought-provoking and nuanced exploration of nationalism, ethnic conflict, and human nature. Set in Transylvania, a region with a long history of shifting borders and national identities, the film emphasizes the impermanence and futility of attempting to preserve nationalistic identity. The dynamics of ethnicity are highlighted through the various languages represented in the film, including Romanian, Hungarian, German, English, and French. Although some of these details may be lost to viewers without an ear for languages, they reveal the hypocrisy of characters who oppose migrant workers while also rallying against the nomadic peoples of Europe. Mungiu’s patient and deliberate method of ratcheting suspense may seem opaque at first, but his spare and probing camerawork, stark compositions, and gray-blue color palette provide a bleak sociopolitical backdrop that rewards a second or third viewing. 

Mungiu plays a clever game with what he shows and conceals in R.M.N., requiring viewers to question the visual information given to them. He explores the relationship between humans and animals as a parallel for how people discriminate against others, seeing them as subhuman. Animals that once roamed the land freely are now farmed, butchered, or hunted when seen on the cultivated property, similar to the discrimination applied to Sri Lankan workers. The film makes broader observations about human shortsightedness and bigotry that could be compared to any ethnic confrontation throughout the world. With discerning observations and intricately conceived analogies, R.M.N. is a wonderful film, that exposes raw and universal truths about humanity through specific ethnic divides. Mungiu’s film is a compelling and engaging exploration of nationalism, ethnic conflict, and human nature that will leave viewers with countless specific cases of intolerance and groupthink in mind.

R.M.N. is currently playing in select theaters courtesy of IFC Films. 

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aGi_xGhu1j8]