פאָלקס פון Romania

On Saint Andrew's day, Safta leaves the comfort of her home to find the veterinary doctor who could help her save the family cow. Safta's plans change when a bizarre encounter forces her to face her past.

Animation short.

An abbot establishes a monastery on a disused airfield in the southern Romanian plains. He proves to be just as knowledgeable about strategic issues of national security as he is about ecclesiastical matters. But things don't turn out to be quite so spiritual on God's runway after all.

A perfect night of partying for a group of teenagers in Vama Veche. Sasha channels his discomfort in a phantasmagoric journey that awakens associations of sensations that she would not have expected.

By the time Slavomir Popovici filmed this documentary, his protagonist was already famous for the museum of history and folk art he had established in his house in Arbore village. His museum was visited by thousands of tourists each year, while the journals that he had kept for four decades had been published in 1972 as The Chronicle from Arbore. Hrib was a peasant autodidact from Bucovina, North Romania. Although he was an eccentric, he was also the perfect film protagonist for 1970s Romanian documentary.

Armed with a gun he finds thrown in the corner of the block of flats where he lives, Nae sets off on a nocturnal adventure through the city. Influenced by his cinephile imagination, the reality of the almost deserted streets merges with a noir drama atmosphere he obsessively watches. Projected into the grey landscape of Bucharest in the late 1990s, the tragic and absurd action of Cristian Lucian Dobrovicescu's short film is cut out and stylized in the manner of comics.

A father and his children are preparing for the New Year. The eldest daughter is almost 30 years old and is used to playing the role of mother to the others, sacrificing her education to raise them, after the death of her real daughter. The second daughter is in high school and has difficulties in physics, for this reason she is punished to stay at home and solve problems in this subject. Of the two boys, one is the pride of the father, being the first and only student in the family. In a cordial atmosphere, punctuated from time to time by surprising musical fragments, the story develops around daily events. But the very next day, the appearance of a young woman who is important to the eldest son inspires the father to reconsider the sometimes too authoritarian relationship he has cultivated with his children.

The film begins as a cultural reportage of the most conventional kind, with a series of frames filmed around Peleș Castle, set to classical music and accompanied by a commentary describing the museum's ceramic collection. What is surprising in this construction is the unusual effect that the natural setting, chosen as the original backdrop of the presentation, has on the exhibits. Removed from the museum and displayed outdoors, the objects fail to resonate with nature and stand out like anomalies in the wintery, postcard-like landscape. But the romantic surplus of Chopin's music, which is added to the increasingly abstract visual compositions, with vases, trinkets and precious tableware fancifully placed in the water of a stream and among snowy fir trees, represents an at least extravagant attempt to deviate from the aesthetic norm.

Two identical hotel rooms, two phone conversations, a single door and a single point of view from which all these glimpses of days in the lives of two strangers are captured: a man in transit through an unidentified provincial town (we only get to know that it's somwehere in the mountains) and a woman who came from far away to seek a better life, who makes love for money every night. The film's visual minimalism, the elliptic, fragmented narrative structure, the lack of a clearly-articulated theme turn this experiment into an early exemplar of a certain type of modernism, which would reach its peak in Romania only two decades later.

Fired from the editorial board of a humor magazine because he isnțt funny enough, protagonist Vică remains unemployed until he accidentally reunites with an old acquaintance on the muddy streets of Bucharest in winter.

Through an oneiric and experimental lens, the filmmaker confronts her own experiences of harassment and institutional control, exploring how these encounters shape perception, body, and agency. Inspired by the photography series of the Romanian visual artist Geta Brătescu, the film navigates opacity and vulnerability, creating a reflective space where trauma is both embodied and mediated through artistic practice. By blending personal narrative with abstract black and white analogue photography, the work opens a dialogue about witnessing, control, and resilience, offering a meditation on the subtle violences that mark professional and intimate spaces.

When a meat factory worker tries to apply for a new job at the company's central headquarters, two worlds collide! Brebenel is now torn between joining the soulless machinery of the corporate world for financial incentives, or turn back to the fragile, but alive, world of the simple man.

Bridges are built to connect people, unless it is forbidden to cross them. The towns of Sighet in Romania and Ukrainian Slatina are separated by the river Tisza. A recently rebuilt bridge is supposed to not only reunite the two towns but also bring back together friends and relatives who have been divided throughout history by various political decisions. The former bridge was destroyed by German troops in 1944. After WWII, the border was closed. For 50 years there was nothing but silence between the inhabitants of Romanian Sighet and the city of Slatina, which then belonged to the Soviet Union. The film documents the long, often absurd and eventually vain struggle of the local inhabitants and politicians to reconnect the two communities.

After years of exercise, contemporary painter Lucian Prună paints pieces of the life of romanians as he recounts about his own life.

“Cinema, Poetry, and Trains in Tîrgu Neamț” might serve as the subtitle for this film, which Copel Moscu composes in a deliberately atomised manner, capturing the rhythm of a small provincial town in late-1980s Romania: cinema as escapism, pouring rain à la George Bacovia, and a vague love story between a woman projectionist and a railwayman come one after the other over the course of this somewhat comical elegy, whose meanings do not achieve the poignant depths of Moscu’s other films.

What do you see when you listen to the radio? What do you hear when you look at the image of water? Like a crossword, this film is made up of a series of questions and answers that, viewed from a distance, seem chaotic and meaningless, but put into relation to each other become simple truths.

A romantic anniversary at a hotel goes thoroughly off track for Laura and Marius – in this chaos, there is no space for real passion. With charisma, sharp wit, and a warm undertone, this comedy skewers bourgeois sensibilities while raising the ultimate question: what does it take to spark the missing adventure in love?

Disguising his smuggling operation as humanitarian aid, Fane ventures into Ukraine to retrieve contraband cigarettes. His mission is complicated when a young refugee, Oleh, sneaks into his van with no way for them to understand each other.