Exploring the Depths of Oppression in Emanuel Pârvu’s Three Kilometres to the End of the World
The poignant film Three Kilometres to the End of the World, directed by Emanuel Pârvu, has made waves in the film industry, capturing the coveted Queer Palm at this year’s Cannes Film Festival. It has also been chosen to represent Romania in the race for Best International Feature Film at the upcoming Oscars. Following his previous works, Meda Or The Not So Bright Side Of Things (2017) and Mikado (2021), Pârvu demonstrates his remarkable storytelling prowess, positioning him as a standout figure in the burgeoning wave of contemporary Romanian cinema.
This latest offering unveils a harrowing narrative that resonates powerfully with themes of homophobia and societal oppression. It pairs compellingly with Eugen Jebeleanu’s Poppy Field (2020), as both films delve into the grim realities of life in Romania—a country that, despite being a member of the European Union and having decriminalized homosexuality over two decades ago, still grapples with deep-seated prejudices and tyrannical religious ideologies, particularly in smaller communities.
A Glimpse into a Conservative Community
Set against the backdrop of Sfântu Gheorghe, a conservative village nestled within the Danube Delta, the film follows 17-year-old Adi (Ciprian Chiujdea) as he spends his summer in his hometown. The tranquility of summer is shattered one fateful night when Adi suffers severe injuries after being brutally attacked on his way home from a nearby nightclub.
Under pressure from Adi’s father (Bogdan Dumitrache), who demands a thorough investigation into the assault, the local police chief (Valeriu Andriuţă) uncovers a troubling truth: two of the assailants are the sons of Zentov (Richard Bovnoczki), a wealthy local figure to whom Adi’s father is indebted. Contrary to initial assumptions, the motive for the assault is not linked to the father’s debts but stems from the shocking revelation that Adi was seen kissing a male tourist visiting from Bucharest. This devastating truth tears apart the already fragile family dynamic.
“City life twisted your head, boy,” is a phrase that echoes throughout the film, encapsulating the toxic attitudes that surround Adi. Words like “disease” and “nightmare” become ammunition in the conversations that ensue, as Adi finds himself punished not for the violence inflicted upon him, but for his very identity. His sexuality, more damning than the brutal crime he endured, leads to his isolation—locked within the confines of his room, while his devout mother (Laura Vasiliu) seeks to “cure” him with the assistance of the local priest (Adrian Titieni). The priest even suggests that Adi’s homosexuality could be a side effect of the Covid vaccine, resulting in a harrowing exorcism that sees Adi forcibly restrained and silenced. The pervasive desire to keep everything under wraps stems from a fear that “the word gets out, and the village is swarming with them…”
Juxtaposition of Beauty and Brutality
This harrowing tale of repression and denial is undoubtedly a challenging watch. The film’s aesthetic choices, however, provide a striking contrast. Shot in widescreen, the expansive natural beauty of the isolated community, accessible only by boat, starkly contrasts with the narrow-mindedness of its inhabitants. Pârvu employs meticulously crafted long takes and a deliberate absence of a musical score, allowing the sounds of nature to accompany Adi’s plight. While the rustling trees suggest a sense of peace, the stunning landscapes serve as a stark reminder of the horrific attitudes that pervade village life.
Despite having directed only two films, Pârvu adeptly navigates this disparity, choosing to withhold certain images from the audience. The brutal gay bashing is not shown, nor is the tenderness shared between Adi and his lover, save for a fleeting intimate moment where one lovingly attends to Adi’s hedgehog-pricked finger. These deliberate omissions, paired with the authentically natural performances, amplify the horror of the aftermath of the assault, as we witness the events primarily through the lens of the village’s collective mindset. This approach compels viewers to confront the fragility of love in a society that prioritizes the preservation of a sinful but familiar status quo over compassion and understanding.
A Tense Exploration of Systematic Corruption
As the story unfolds, Pârvu, alongside co-screenwriter Miruna Berescu, skillfully examines the intricate layers of systemic corruption that underpin this portrait of reactionary conservatism in rural Romania. Certain scenes evoke intense frustration as viewers witness the disgraceful bureaucratic maneuvers of indifferent institutions. The language employed in extended dialogue sequences reveals how words and values become hollow when they serve a community intent on upholding patriarchal standards.
While Three Kilometres to the End of the World offers little in the way of optimism, the introduction of an investigator (Alina Berzunteanu) from Children’s Services provides a flicker of hope, particularly during her confrontation with the priest. “You can believe whatever you want, but you can’t do whatever you want,” she states dryly. Yet, her efforts are repeatedly obstructed as a cover-up is orchestrated by every authority figure in the village.
The Weight of Adi’s Silence
Despite its keen observations of homophobia and fundamentalism, the film curiously limits the audience’s insight into Adi’s personal perspective. While we witness his emotional and physical trauma, by the time the credits roll, he remains primarily a victim. This may be a necessary narrative choice to highlight the extent to which stigma suffocates any semblance of humanity. Rather than being a journey of self-discovery, Three Kilometres to the End of the World resonates more as a tale of sheer survival.
The film concludes with an open-ended fate for Adi, and although the final shot hints at a potential happy ending, the distinction between escape and exile is stark. Pârvu’s narrative does not veer towards idealism; instead, it paints a sobering picture where faith in a better future risks being extinguished as long as entrenched prejudices continue to overshadow compassion.
Three Kilometres to the End of the World is currently screening in Romanian and French cinemas and is set to continue its European rollout this year. The film premiered at this year’s Cannes Film Festival and was featured this month at both the BFI London Film Festival and the Chicago International Film Festival.
