Malmkrog: Slow and wordy portrait of a doomed aristocracy

Cristi Puiu willed the Romanian New Wave into existence in 2005 with The Death of Mr Lazarescu, a Kafkaesque thriller that took aim at corruption and ineptitude in post-communist Romania. The impact of that project can still be felt in last year’s Collective, the Romanian Oscar-nominated documentary concerning healthcare fraud, and one of the best films of 2020.

Puiu’s subsequent career has charted more introspective terrain with the contemplative Sieranevada and the surreal Aurora. Neither of these films, however, can adequately prepare the viewer for the punishing philosophical density of Malmkrog.

Over the course of a day – almost rendered in real time thanks to the three hours-plus runtime – four Russian aristocrats argue in French at a Transylvanian manor. Hot turn-of-the-century topics are considered through the spectrum of Vladimir Solovyov’s War and Christianity: Three Conversations, of which the film is a loose adaptation of sorts.

Cinematographer Tudor Vladimir Panduru’s handsome, appropriately static, compositions – often framed by doors – add to the sense of stultification as landowner Nikolai (Frédéric Schulz-Richard), merchant Edouard (Ugo Broussot) and a general (Vitalie Bichir) discuss the existence of evil and play down the Asiatic “sediment” beneath Russia’s European character.

Olga (Marina Palii), a young woman with a Gnostic interpretation of the Bible, is quickly rounded upon by the others, notably Ingrida (Diana Sakalauskaité), the wife of an ailing Russian general who is cared for by the servants. Many vile, imperialist fin-de-siecle ideas are exchanged, includingthe notion that benevolent “Europeanness” can be spread around the world and be the justification of any violence, however sickening, undertaken by the Christian Russian army against the godless Ottoman other.

This is no Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie. A sudden, violent interruption around two hours into the film does little to alleviate the pompous religiosity and white supremacy. Instead, Malmkrog mysteriously loops back to the beginning.

Is Puiu highlighting that despite the imminent destruction of this rancid aristocracy, the rich, alas, will always be with us? The unspoken unrest among the downstairs class supports that theory, even if the film’s meaning remains unclear. Edouard’s boasts regarding the stability of a civilised Europe that has moved beyond conflict provide black contemporaneous humour and chilling contemporary parallels.

Malmkrog is a talky, challenging slog, but it’s seldom short of ideas. One is unlikely to find greater consideration of pelagianism in any other film this year. Or decade.