By Katie Datko
AFI FEST NOW

MORGEN, winner of the Special Jury Prize at Locarno, is a film about fishing. Not in the Hemingway “Old Man in the Sea” way, but the first feature from 2008 Palme d’Or winner Short Film recipient Marian Crisan certainly has a lot to do with fishing. With subtle twists and turns, Crisan takes the viewer on a bait-and-switch journey, where the cost of freedom is always uncertain. Ditto the motives of the protagonist, Nelu Manciu (András Hatházi).

Nelu, a modern-day Romanian Walter Mitty sans the fantasy life, is a man who seems to go through his everyday activities on autopilot. A henpecked security guard working just over the border in Hungary at a discount chain store, Nelu simply goes through the motions, getting dressed for work or helping his wife do dishes in their rustic farmhouse. On the surface he appears to be just an average guy with little ambition save to tile the roof in his house and, of course, to fish.

After all, it’s a fish that starts this story. A fish hints at all that may–or may not–come to pass. Slippery and elusive, a simple carp introduces us to Nelu and what he may be capable of.

Crisan casts his line during the opening sequence at the Hungarian-Romanian border town of Salonta. It’s dawn and Nelu drives up to the customs booth in his motorcycle and sidecar. When asked if he’s caught anything, Nelu replies a quick, “No.” As the scene plays out, though, the Hungarian customs official finds out that Nelu does in fact have a carp in his sidecar–Nelu is caught in the act. If he wishes to cross the border, he has no other choice but to dump his fish and abandon it. The scene ends with the fish flipping and flopping until it finally stops, Nelu’s motorcycle well off in the distance.

With the camera following Nelu going to work, there is a feeling of detachment; this is a day like any other. Yet, soon after, Nelu shows once again how he bends the rules, provoking a rebuke from his boss as he hangs out with a coworker: “Come on Mr. Nelu, you know the rules. One stays inside and the other outside.” Subtly there is a sense that in Nelu there may in fact be a rebel lurking within, someone who is yearning to buck convention. The absurdity of the push-pull between authority and the common man is a theme that runs throughout MORGEN–often to comedic effect.

This is put to the test when Nelu, while fishing, encounters Behran (Yilmaz Yalcin), a Turkish man hiding from the authorities. The camera, once again set behind Nelu, shows that he is obviously witness to the spectacle before him. Yet it is only when the Turk entreaties Nelu to help that he becomes involved. From this point on, the viewer is left with a sense of ambiguity that is absorbing until the very end of the film. Even though Nelu progressively becomes more sympathetic to Behran’s plight, it is never clear the lengths to which Nelu will go to help Behran, telling him repeatedly in German, “Morgen” (tomorrow).

With medium and long shots in widescreen, Crisan sets the viewer apart, making it increasingly difficult to become more intimate with Nelu’s character. Compassion and empathy rest more squarely with Behran, who claims the only true close-up in the film.

The sole insight into what may be going on with Nelu lies in Crisan’s use of interior and exterior space. The interiors, dimly lit and minimalist, seem binding, constricting. Except when he is with Behran, Nelu is reserved, sparing in his interactions with others. It is only when Nelu crosses the threshold into various buildings or rooms that the viewer begins to discern the emotional and psychological space Nelu inhabits. Each room adds another layer to Nelu’s character, framing him in new and unexpected ways. The exteriors–mostly of the Great Hungarian Plain–present broad vistas stretching out into the distance that, while hinting at the potential for freedom, actually feel claustrophic, as though there is no potential for escape.

It is ironic that Nelu, who, as a citizen of an EU Member State is able to adroitly navigate the Romanian-Hungarian border, yet he is anything but free. Like the fish in the bucket in the opening sequence, the cushion of space surrounding him is fleeting, tenuous. He may feel comfortable in his life, but that is an illusion. At any moment, either Nelu or Behran could become the “fish.” It is this tension that keeps the viewer guessing about the outcome of the situation in MORGEN, calling into question which of the protagonists will be able to gain their freedom.

Katie Datko is a writer and essayist.