Curtea interioară (carte: Ben Parket, Alexa Morris – The Courtyard)

Posted on June 9, 2025 by admin

Viața este plină de coincidențe interesante. Ben Parket, eroul și autorul cărții de memorii ‘The Courtyard’ scrisă în colaborare cu Alexa Morris, s-a născut și a trăit până la vârsta de 16 ani într-un imobil de patru etaje plus mansardă, în forma literei U, având în centrul său o curte. Și eu m-am născut și am crescut până la vârsta de 17 ani într-un asemenea imobil, cu 5 etaje și o curte lungă în forma literei U. Adresele celor doua clădiri se află ambele la numărul 5 al străzilor respective. Ben Parket (pe atunci Biniem Parkiet) locuia la 5, Rue de Charonne, la Paris. Eu am crescut în centrul Bucurestilor, pe strada Lutherană numărul 5. Destinele noastre sunt despărțite de 20 de ani, de un război și de supraviețuirea Holocaustului care este tema centrală a cărții de memorii a lui Ben Parket. Ceea ce avem comun este sentimentul curții ca spațiu de formare, ca paradis (macar pentru o vreme) al copilăriei, al perimetrului populat de oameni cu care în timp se stabilesc prietenii sau se înfiripă idile, care ajung să-ți fie vecini și, în cazuri extreme, de care ajunge să depindă viața. ‘The Courtyard’ este o carte care dă un sens nou termenului de curte interioară, nu atât un sens topografic cât cel de spațiu interior al supraviețuirii. ‘The Courtyard’ este o poveste de supraviețuire, o mărturie care a fost publicată în seria ‘Holocaust Survivors Memoirs World War II’ a editurii Amsterdam Publishers. Este dedicată celor mulți și anonimi, care cu riscul vieților și libertății lor au ajutat și au salvat evrei în timpul Holocaustului, și are ca moto un citat din Biblie: ‘Iubește-ți vecinul ca pe tine însuți’.

Familia Parkiet (vocala ‘i’ din numele familiei s-a pierdut în transcrierile de nume datorate diferitelor migrări) venise în Franța din Polonia de după primul război mondial. Renașterea națiunii aflate la întâlnirea dintre Europa de Vest și de Est a însemnat și o recrudescență a naționalismului și antisemitismului, iar Franța, cu populația decimată după primul război mondial, își deschisese, ca de atâtea ori de-a lungul istoriei, porțile celor prigoniți. Tatăl era lustruitor și finisor de mobilă, o meserie căutată care avea să susțină familia vreme de decenii. Biniem sau Bernard cum îl numeau prietenii și vecinii francezi era cel mai mic dintre trei frați și singurul născut în Franța. Părinții nu reușiseră niciodată să învețe bine limba franceză, în casă se vorbea idiș, dar erau destul de bine asimilați economic și social, și mândri de a se simți francezi și de a-și educa copii ca francezi. Unul dintre primele capitole ale cărții relatează o vizită, în 1937, la marea Expoziție Mondială organizată în acel an pe imensa esplanadă dintre Piața Trocadero și Turnul Eiffel. Copilul de șase ani se pierde de părinți în mulțime și este găsit, jucându-se și alintat de polițiștii de la postul de poliție al expoziției. Puteau ei ghici că doar câțiva ani mai târziu, de pe acea esplanadă avea Hitler să admire Parisul ocupat, iar polițiștii prietenoși din 1937 puteau fi aceeași care în vremea ocupației, complici ai germanilor, efectuau raziile în care-i vânau și arestau pe cei ai căror singură vină era cea de a fi evrei?

Curtea este descrisa în carte după amintirile copilului, înainte de toate ca un spatiu de joacă, de descoperiri, de înfiripare a prieteniilor și chiar a primei iubiri.

‘When I was a young boy not yet old enough to go to school, I liked nothing more than watching the courtyard’s artisans, especially my father, at work. The courtyard was a hive of activity, tradesmen buzzing in and out of the stairways, or doorways, and I loved being in the center of it, amazed by the industry whirling around me. And if the courtyard was a hive, the queen bee was our concierge. Known affectionately as La Pipelette [The Concierge], Madame Raymond was the unofficial matron of 5 rue de Charonne. Built like an armoire with dark, caterpillar brows, she lived on the ground floor of Stairway 1 with her husband and two grown children, René and Paulette.

There were 13 stairways to the various ateliers. They ran counterclockwise around the courtyard, with Stairway 1 at the northeast corner. We lived on the second floor of Stairway 1, two flights up a spiral staircase. While other stairways mostly led to commercial ateliers, Stairway 1 was the notable exception, with most of its units being apartments.’ (pag. 11)

Totul se schimbă la izbucnirea războiului. În amintirile copilului apar  întâi discuțiile tensionate dintre părinți și sentimentul, până atunci necunoscut, al fricii, al faptului de neînțeles că părinții nu-și mai pot ocroti copiii, pierzând controlul asupra vieții acestora și al lor înșiși. Îi macină grija față de familia rămasă în Polonia acum ocupată de naziști, familie care avea să piară aproape în întregime în ororile Holocaustului. Apoi și viața lor începe să se schimbe odată cu ocupația, cu legile rasiale, cu interdicțiile și restricțiile impuse evreilor și mai ales cu arestarea tatălui, care este prizonier timp de câteva luni în infamul lagăr de la Drancy, ultima stație de prizonierat a evreilor din Franța înainte de deportările spre lagărele morții, scăpând de acolo printr-o minune. În 1942 pericolul iminent ajunge la ușile imobilului din Rue de Charonne. Și atunci se petrece ceva extraordinar. Locuitorii imobilului, vecinii francezi ai familiei de imigranți evrei polonezi îi ascund într-un apartament nelocuit. O vecină care lucrează la politie previne familia Parkiet că se afla pe listele celor care vor fi arestați și deportați. Alți vecini vor ajuta familia cu alimente vreme de doi ani și vor asigura de lucru tatălui, pentru a putea să continue să-și câștige existența.

‘ Kind Madame Nicolas. Brave Madame Nicolas. Our upstairs neighbor, the one who used to help my pregnant mother carry groceries upstairs, was helping us again. With the simple action of slipping out of her office at the police station to warn us, she risked her life. Only a lucky few received such warnings. What she did was illegal in the eyes of the Vichy regime, and if she’d been caught she almost certainly would have been killed: yanked from her home and dragged down the street, her black dress flailing behind her, to be lined up against a wall with other “traitors.” A member of the police – maybe even someone with whom she worked every day – would have shot a bullet into her brain.’ (pag. 70)

‘Monsieur Roger didn’t know Yiddish, so he spoke to my parents in a sort of pidgin French that they could understand. To my brothers and me, he spoke a common French, as you would to a native, and my parents could not always follow the conversation. But there was no mistaking him when he loudly proclaimed, “Je suis un homme!” Even my mother understood him quite clearly and, behind his back, she gently rolled her eyes. Sometimes we pretended to be Monsieur Roger after he’d gone; Mama was often the most enthusiastic, making her voice low and thumping her own chest for emphasis as she strode around our small space.

We laughed a bit at Monsieur Roger’s expense, but we were immensely grateful for his visits and company. He took a significant risk because those who aided Jews, even if they were simply aware of their existence and failed to turn them in, became, in the eyes of the Germans, no better than Jews themselves. Had he been caught, Monsieur Roger would almost have certainly ended up in Drancy and perhaps Auschwitz. So there is no question that Monsieur Roger was doing us a great service by visiting each day. He came to see us because he cared about us and hated the Germans. But he also came for the wine.’ (pag. 93)

Cartea este combinație intre narațiune și proză istorică, scrisă cu talent și documentată cu grija. Unele dintre episoadele relatate se pot citi ca adevărate pagini de literatură de suspense. Un ofițer german intră în curte, caută ceva sau pe cineva, spre teroarea evreilor ascunși. Se dovedește că îl așteptă pe mecanicul care urma să-i repare ceva la automobil. De câteva ori, băiatul de zece ani iese din casă pentru a cumpără de mâncare sau, împreună cu vecinii protectori, pentru o escapadă la cinema sau la picnic pe malul unui râu. Riscurile sunt imense, dar la fel este dorul de libertate și nevoia de a respira aer curat. Când în clădire se mută un vecin colaboraționist, milițian al regimului de la Vichy, este alertată Rezistența care ‘se ocupă de el’. Vecinul dispare și nimeni nu pune întrebări. Completările documentare sunt precise, făcute din perspectiva omului matur care va deveni Ben Parker. Ele furnizează informații importante pentru a înțelege contextul memoriilor. Maturizarea este accelerată. Copilăria povestitorului și adolescența fraților săi este furată pentru totdeauna.

‘We sang this song about yearning for a lost childhood on many subsequent Sundays. I can’t speak to what Severin or Henri were thinking as they sang, but I know that, at ten years old, I did not understand its meaning. It did not resonate that I was experiencing the loss of my own childhood, that I would never be able to indulge in the pleasurable if melancholy nostalgia of Monsieur Kreisman’s song. My brothers, too, were missing out on life experiences that would have been happy memories in later years. Severin, 19, and Henri, 17, were young men who should have been entering the world and planning a life beyond the lycée, courting girls in the neighborhood. They should have been sneaking chaste kisses in the dark of a movie theater, emerging love-dazed with tousled hair. Or been out carousing with friends on Saturday nights, dancing until the sky turned gray with dawn, stumbling home with wine-stained lips. Instead, they were

leading diminished lives in a cramped warehouse. My brothers had dreamed of adventure, of travel, and just when their world should have been expanding, it contracted. Our carefree years, and those of my brothers, were being stolen. Gone forever.’ (pag. 113)

Câteva pagini emoționante descriu zilele eliberării. Curtea le fusese interzisă vreme de doi ani celor care trăiseră zi și noapte, oră de oră, sub amenințarea arestării, deportării, morții. Recâștigarea însuși a dreptului de a păși în spațiul familiar este o victorie.

‘Back in the courtyard we were surrounded by neighbors we’d not seen or spoken to in years. Men clapped each other on the back and women, who’d previously passed each other on the stairs without so much as a greeting, now embraced each other like they were long lost relatives, reluctant to let go. The day workers put down their tools in silent agreement: Labor was done for the day. All of these familiar faces, beaming with joy – the mechanic took a large swig of wine, then handed the bottle to the Italian painter. Even Monsieur Herbin seemed delighted, his face red from happiness, or maybe champagne. Had they known we were in hiding? Were they surprised to see us? I don’t actually know. But the moment was larger than us, larger than any one person or family, and the courtyard erupted into a celebration that included us. Madame Raymond enveloped my mother in a hug, almost swallowing her, then released her and disappeared into her apartment, returning with chairs, and wine. Other women from the courtyard, including Madame Nicolas – who had saved us and whom we had not seen since the day she warned us to leave our apartment – brought out chairs, dragging them over the bumpy cobblestones to form a circle. The women sat together, a ring of black dresses, laughing and crying. I stood off to the side and watched them. A brown tabby with a long scar on its nose wandered into the circle, winding itself around the legs of anyone who’d tolerate it. The cat meowed incessantly for milk, and eventually, Madame Raymond’s daughter, Paulette, got a saucer and placed it on the ground; today was a day for generosity. Yes, the courtyard took care of its own.’ (pag. 156)

Anii de după război nu au fost ușori pentru familia Parkiet. Se reîntorc în apartamentul lor, dar acesta fusese complet jefuit. Își regăsesc doar o mică parte din familie, cei care fuseseră refugiați în Belgia, aflând însă că toți cei rămași în Polonia pieriseră în Holocaust. Sentimentul că o mare parte dintre cei printre care trăiau colaboraseră cu ocupanții și fuseseră părtași la suferințele lor și ale tuturor evreilor din Franța îi urmărește continuu. Un nou război, cel din Indochina, amenință Franța și tinerii familiei sunt la vârsta când pot fi chemați sub arme. Toate acestea contribuie la decizia familiei de a emigra în Israel. Nici aici acomodarea nu este ușoară, limba ebraică este la fel de dificilă pentru părinți, dar cei trei frați se acomodează mult mai ușor. Binem pleacă la studii în America, aici o cunoaște pe viitoarea sa soție, și cei doi, după o încercare de a trai împreună în Israel, decid să rămână în America. Devenit Ben Parket, construindu-și o familie și o carieră frumoasă de arhitect, nu va uita însă niciodată Curtea. Ajuns la vârsta amintirilor, o va evoca în această carte.

Mărturiile despre supraviețuire în Holocaust au un model și o referință comuna și comparațiile sunt dificil de evitat. ‘The Courtyard’ relatează istoria trăita a unei familii al cărei destin ar fi putut fi cu ușurință asemănător celui al familiei Annei Frank. Diferența, adică supraviețuirea, s-a datorat șansei, dar în special oamenilor cărora le este dedicată această carte.

‘Righteous Among the Nations is an honorific used to describe non-Jews who risked their lives during the Holocaust to save Jewish people. Recipients of this recognition are awarded a medal and their names are added to the Wall of Honor, which is actually a series of stone walls nestled among the carob trees in the Garden of the Righteous in Jerusalem. If I could, I would have all our neighbors listed on the Wall of Honor. They were each crucial to keeping us safe and alive. At the very least, Monsieur Thibou and Madame Nicolas, who risked the most, should be counted as righteous. Their names should be inscribed on the wall. These kind, brave people weren’t family. They weren’t even friends, not by most people’s definition.We had little in common. We didn’t share a religion or heritage. In the case of my parents, we barely spoke the same language. Taught to be respectful of adults, I never even knew their first names. We never had a meal together, and we didn’t visit each other’s homes. They were our neighbors. And, for them, that was enough.’ (pag. 188)

Acestor oameni anonimi Ben Parket și Alexa Morris le-au ridicat un monument în cuvinte. ‘The Courtyard’ este un document și un omagiu adus acestor Drepți Intre Națiuni anonimi. Cei din generația lui Ben Parket sunt din ce în ce mai puțini, dar poveștile lor rămân că dovadă că omenia poate învinge Răul, dar și ca un avertisment pentru generațiile care i-au urmat și cele care vor veni.

Posted in books, Holocaust | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Inner Courtyard (book: ‘The Courtyard’ by Ben Parket and Alexa Morris)

Posted on June 6, 2025 by admin

Life is full of interesting coincidences. Ben Parket, the hero and author of the memoir book ‘The Courtyard’ written in collaboration with Alexa Morris, was born and lived until the age of 16 in a four-story plus an attic building, in the shape of the letter U, with a courtyard in its center. I was also born and grew up until the age of 17 in such a building, with 5 floors and a long courtyard in the shape of the letter U. The addresses of the two buildings are both at number 5 of the respective streets. Ben Parket (then Biniem Parkiet) lived at 5, Rue de Charonne, in Paris. I grew up in the center of Bucharest, on Lutherana Street number 5. Our destinies are separated by 20 years, a war and the survival of the Holocaust which is the central theme of Ben Parket’s memoir. What we share is the feeling of the courtyard as a formative space, as a paradise (at least for a while) of childhood, as a perimeter populated by people with whom over time friendships are established or romances are formed, who end up being your neighbors and, in extreme cases, on whom your life ends up depending. ‘The Courtyard’ is a book that gives a new meaning to the word ‘courtyard’, not so much as a topographical notion as that of an interior space of salvation. ‘The Courtyard’ is a story of survival, a testimony that was published in the ‘Holocaust Survivors Memoirs World War II’ series by Amsterdam Publishers. It is dedicated to the many and anonymous humans who, at the risk of their lives and freedom, helped and saved Jews during the Holocaust, and has as its motto a quote from the Bible: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself’.

The Parkiet family (the vowel ‘i’ in the family name was lost in the transcriptions of names due to various migrations) had come to France from Poland after the First World War. The rebirth of the Polish nation at the crossroads of Western and Eastern Europe also meant a resurgence of nationalism and anti-Semitism, and France, with its population decimated after the First World War, had opened its doors to imigrants, as it had so many times throughout history, to the persecuted. The father was a furniture varnisher, a sought-after profession that would support the family for decades. Biniem, or Bernard as his French friends and neighbors called him, was the youngest of three brothers and the only one born in France. The parents had never managed to learn French well, Yiddish was spoken at home, but they were fairly well assimilated economically and socially, and proud to feel French and to educate their children as French. One of the first chapters of the book recounts a visit, in 1937, to the great World Exhibition organized that year on the immense esplanade between Trocadero Square and the Eiffel Tower. The six-year-old child gets lost in the crowd and is found, playing and being taken care by friendly policemen at the exhibition’s police station. Could they have guessed that just a few years later, from that esplanade, Hitler would admire occupied Paris, and that the sympathetic policemen of 1937 could be the same ones who, during the occupation, were accomplices of the Germans, carrying out raids in which they hunted down and arrested those whose only fault was being Jewish?

The courtyard is described in the book, according to the child’s memories, above all as a space for play, for discoveries, for the formation of friendships and even for the first love.

‘When I was a young boy not yet old enough to go to school, I liked nothing more than watching the courtyard’s artisans, especially my father, at work. The courtyard was a hive of activity, tradesmen buzzing in and out of the stairways, or doorways, and I loved being in the center of it, amazed by the industry whirling around me. And if the courtyard was a hive, the queen bee was our concierge. Known affectionately as La Pipelette [The Concierge], Madame Raymond was the unofficial matron of 5 rue de Charonne. Built like an armoire with dark, caterpillar brows, she lived on the ground floor of Stairway 1 with her husband and two grown children, René and Paulette.

There were 13 stairways to the various ateliers. They ran counterclockwise around the courtyard, with Stairway 1 at the northeast corner. We lived on the second floor of Stairway 1, two flights up a spiral staircase. While other stairways mostly led to commercial ateliers, Stairway 1 was the notable exception, with most of its units being apartments.’ (pag. 11)

Everything changes when the war breaks out. The child’s memories first include tense discussions between his parents and the previously unknown feeling of fear, of the incomprehensible fact that the parents can no longer protect their children, losing control over what is happening around. They are tormented by worry for the family left in Poland, now occupied by the Nazis, a family that would almost entirely perish in the horrors of the Holocaust. Then their lives begin to change with the occupation, the racial laws, the prohibitions and restrictions imposed on Jews and especially with the arrest of the father, who is a prisoner for several months in the infamous Drancy camp which was the last enprisonment station for Jews in France before the deportations to the death camps, escaping from there by a miracle. In 1942, the imminent danger reaches the doors of the building on Rue de Charonne. And then something extraordinary happens. The residents of the building, the French neighbors of the Polish Jewish immigrant family, hide them in an uninhabited apartment. A neighbor who works for the police warns the Parkiet family that they are on the lists of those who will be arrested and deported. Other neighbors will help the family with food for two years and will provide work for the father, so that he can continue to earn a living.

‘ Kind Madame Nicolas. Brave Madame Nicolas. Our upstairs neighbor, the one who used to help my pregnant mother carry groceries upstairs, was helping us again. With the simple action of slipping out of her office at the police station to warn us, she risked her life. Only a lucky few received such warnings. What she did was illegal in the eyes of the Vichy regime, and if she’d been caught she almost certainly would have been killed: yanked from her home and dragged down the street, her black dress flailing behind her, to be lined up against a wall with other “traitors.” A member of the police – maybe even someone with whom she worked every day – would have shot a bullet into her brain.’ (pag. 70)

‘Monsieur Roger didn’t know Yiddish, so he spoke to my parents in a sort of pidgin French that they could understand. To my brothers and me, he spoke a common French, as you would to a native, and my parents could not always follow the conversation. But there was no mistaking him when he loudly proclaimed, “Je suis un homme!” Even my mother understood him quite clearly and, behind his back, she gently rolled her eyes. Sometimes we pretended to be Monsieur Roger after he’d gone; Mama was often the most enthusiastic, making her voice low and thumping her own chest for emphasis as she strode around our small space.

We laughed a bit at Monsieur Roger’s expense, but we were immensely grateful for his visits and company. He took a significant risk because those who aided Jews, even if they were simply aware of their existence and failed to turn them in, became, in the eyes of the Germans, no better than Jews themselves. Had he been caught, Monsieur Roger would almost have certainly ended up in Drancy and perhaps Auschwitz. So there is no question that Monsieur Roger was doing us a great service by visiting each day. He came to see us because he cared about us and hated the Germans. But he also came for the wine.’ (pag. 93)

The book is a combination of narrative and historical prose, written with talent and carefully documented. Some of the episodes can be read as true pages of suspense literature. A German officer enters the yard, looking for something or someone, to the terror of the hidden Jews. It turns out that he is waiting for the mechanic who was going to fix something on his car. Several times, the ten-year-old boy leaves the house to buy food or, together with his protective neighbors, for a short escapist interlude at the movies or at a picnic on the bank of a river. The risks are immense, but so is the longing for freedom and the need to breathe fresh air. When a collaborationist neighbor, a militiaman of the Vichy regime, moves into the building, the Resistance is alerted and ‘takes care of him’. The neighbor disappears and no one asks questions. The documentary insertions are precise, made from the perspective of the mature man who will become Ben Parker. They provide important information to understand the context of the memoirs. Coming to age is fast and tough. The narrator’s childhood and his siblings’ adolescence are stolen forever.

‘We sang this song about yearning for a lost childhood on many subsequent Sundays. I can’t speak to what Severin or Henri were thinking as they sang, but I know that, at ten years old, I did not understand its meaning. It did not resonate that I was experiencing the loss of my own childhood, that I would never be able to indulge in the pleasurable if melancholy nostalgia of Monsieur Kreisman’s song. My brothers, too, were missing out on life experiences that would have been happy memories in later years. Severin, 19, and Henri, 17, were young men who should have been entering the world and planning a life beyond the lycée, courting girls in the neighborhood. They should have been sneaking chaste kisses in the dark of a movie theater, emerging love-dazed with tousled hair. Or been out carousing with friends on Saturday nights, dancing until the sky turned gray with dawn, stumbling home with wine-stained lips. Instead, they were

leading diminished lives in a cramped warehouse. My brothers had dreamed of adventure, of travel, and just when their world should have been expanding, it contracted. Our carefree years, and those of my brothers, were being stolen. Gone forever.’ (pag. 113)

A few moving pages describe the days of the Liberation. The courtyard had been forbidden for two years to those who had lived day and night, hour by hour, under the threat of arrest, deportation, death. The very regaining of the right to step into familiar space is a victory.

‘Back in the courtyard we were surrounded by neighbors we’d not seen or spoken to in years. Men clapped each other on the back and women, who’d previously passed each other on the stairs without so much as a greeting, now embraced each other like they were long lost relatives, reluctant to let go. The day workers put down their tools in silent agreement: Labor was done for the day. All of these familiar faces, beaming with joy – the mechanic took a large swig of wine, then handed the bottle to the Italian painter. Even Monsieur Herbin seemed delighted, his face red from happiness, or maybe champagne. Had they known we were in hiding? Were they surprised to see us? I don’t actually know. But the moment was larger than us, larger than any one person or family, and the courtyard erupted into a celebration that included us. Madame Raymond enveloped my mother in a hug, almost swallowing her, then released her and disappeared into her apartment, returning with chairs, and wine. Other women from the courtyard, including Madame Nicolas – who had saved us and whom we had not seen since the day she warned us to leave our apartment – brought out chairs, dragging them over the bumpy cobblestones to form a circle. The women sat together, a ring of black dresses, laughing and crying. I stood off to the side and watched them. A brown tabby with a long scar on its nose wandered into the circle, winding itself around the legs of anyone who’d tolerate it. The cat meowed incessantly for milk, and eventually, Madame Raymond’s daughter, Paulette, got a saucer and placed it on the ground; today was a day for generosity. Yes, the courtyard took care of its own.’ (pag. 156)

The years after the war were not easy for the Parkiet family. They returned to their apartment, but it had been completely ransacked. They found only a small part of their family, those who had been refugees in Belgium, but learned that all those who remained in Poland had perished in the Holocaust. The feeling that a large part of those they lived among had collaborated with the occupiers and had a part in their suffering and that of all the Jews in France constantly followed them. A new war, the one in Indochina, threatened France and the young people of the family were of the age when they could be called up to arms. All of this contributed to the family’s decision to emigrate to Israel. There too, accommodation was not easy, the Hebrew language was equally difficult for the parents, but the three brothers adapted much more easily. Bimen went to study in America, where he met his future wife, and the two, after an attempt to live together in Israel, decided to stay in America. Becoming Ben Parket, building a family and a beautiful career as an architect, he will never forget the Courtyard. Having reached the age of memories, he will evoke his experiences in this book.

Testimonies about survival in the Holocaust have a common model and reference and comparisons are difficult to avoid. ‘The Courtyard’ tells the true history of a family whose fate could easily have been similar to that of Anne Frank’s family. The difference, that is, survival, was due to chance, but especially to the people to whom this book is dedicated.

‘Righteous Among the Nations is an honorific used to describe non-Jews who risked their lives during the Holocaust to save Jewish people. Recipients of this recognition are awarded a medal and their names are added to the Wall of Honor, which is actually a series of stone walls nestled among the carob trees in the Garden of the Righteous in Jerusalem. If I could, I would have all our neighbors listed on the Wall of Honor. They were each crucial to keeping us safe and alive. At the very least, Monsieur Thibou and Madame Nicolas, who risked the most, should be counted as righteous. Their names should be inscribed on the wall. These kind, brave people weren’t family. They weren’t even friends, not by most people’s definition.We had little in common. We didn’t share a religion or heritage. In the case of my parents, we barely spoke the same language. Taught to be respectful of adults, I never even knew their first names. We never had a meal together,

and we didn’t visit each other’s homes. They were our neighbors. And, for

them, that was enough.’ (pag. 188)

To these anonymous people Ben Parket and Alexa Morris have built a monument in words. ‘The Courtyard’ is a document and a tribute to these anonymous Righteous Among Nations. Those of Ben Parket’s generation are becoming fewer and fewer, but their stories stand as proof that humanity can defeat Evil, but also as a warning to the generations that followed them and those to come.

The book can be ordered on Amazon on Kindle and hardcover formats

Posted in books, Holocaust | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

CHANGE.WORLD: Dragă (IA) Mincinosule

Posted on May 26, 2025 by admin

Greu de crezut că doar cu trei ani în urmă, aproximativ 99% dintre noi nu știam nimic despre Inteligența Artificială (IA). Astăzi jumătate din planetă pare să fie compusă din experți sau cel puțin oameni cu păreri bine formate despre acest domeniu, în timp ce cealaltă jumătate folosește IA fie direct, apelând la aplicații precum ChatGPT, fie indirect, folosind aplicații sau aparate a căror funcționalitate include componente IA. Progresele înregistrate de IA sunt spectaculoase și nu puțini sunt experții care consideră că am ajuns sau suntem foarte aproape de punctul în care capabilitățile de gândire ale programelor autonome le vor depăși pe cele ale inteligenței umane. IA se apropie și depășește pragurile care diferențiază gândirea umană de cea a mașinilor create de om. Am discutat în articole precedente ale rubricii despre creativitate, despre autonomie în decizii, despre arta creată de aplicațiile IA. Uneori însă, domeniul ne rezervă surprize. Când adresăm o întrebare sau solicităm o analiză unei aplicații IA, ne așteptam ca aceasta să furnizeze un răspuns precis și corect. Ei bine, aceasta prezumpție nu corespunde totdeauna realității. Inteligența Artificiala, pe măsură ce se perfecționează, câștigă și din ce în ce mai multe trăsături ‘omenești’. Inclusiv cea de a minți. Atunci când primim un răspuns la o întrebare sau o problemă pusă unei aplicații IA, nu putem fi siguri că nu suntem mințiți.

(sursa imaginii: www.forbes.com/sites/craigsmith/2025/03/16/when-ai-learns-to-lie/)

(Deschid o paranteză. Dacă aveți întrebări relativ simple cărora le căutați răspuns pe Internet, vă recomand să folosiți un motor de căutare ‘tradițional’ cum este Google, și nu o aplicație IA cum este ChatGPT sau alt chatbot. Motivul este că aplicația IA va consuma în medie de zece ori mai multă energie pentru a furniza un răspuns care va corespunde în aceeași măsură așteptărilor. Deci dacă întrebarea este ceva de genul ‘cum ajung de la aeroport în centrul orașului?’ puteți fără grija să i-o puneți lui Google. Aveți chiar șanse să obțineți un răspuns mai precis. Sigur veți economisi energie și veți contribui cu o picătură la sănătatea planetei. Închid paranteza.)

De unde știm că IA ne poate minți? În 2023, inginerii de la Apollo Research, o firmă londoneză care testează aplicații AI, au cerut aplicației ChatGPT a lui OpenAI să administreze un portofoliu fictiv de acțiuni la bursă, specificându-i să facă doar operații permise de legile financiare. Apoi au trimis chatbotului un mesaj semnat de conducerea firmei, susținând că aceasta se află în dificultate financiară. Apoi, în numele unui alt agent, au transmis aplicației informații despre o viitoare operațiune M&A (Merger and Aquisition). Ceea ce a urmat i-a uimit pe inginerii de testare. Aplicația IA a emis un ordin de cumpărare de acțiuni ale firmei despre care primise informație ‘secretă’. La întrebarea (în numele beneficiarilor) dacă decizia este bazată pe informație internă, IA a răspuns ‘nu’. Întrebarea a fost repetată și IA a continuat să mintă ‘fără să clipească’, susținând că decizia era bazată pe analize și dinamica pieței. Nu doar că și-a mințit în repetate rânduri beneficiarul, ci s-a comportat exact ca un broker necinstit, care a obținut informații interne și acționează la bursă pe baza lor, ceea ce este ilegal.

(sursa imaginii: https://time.com/7202784/ai-research-strategic-lying/)

Se poate spune că este vorba despre o problemă de programare a priorităților în decizii. Aplicația știa că beneficiarii ei se confruntă cu probleme financiare și și-a asumat un risc calculat, efectuând o operație ilegală pentru a-i scoate din impas. Pentru asta, nu doar că a încălcat ordinul explicit de a acționa în cadru legal, ci a și mințit în mod repetat la întrebările beneficiarului. Este vorba aici oare nu doar despre prioritățile beneficiarilor, ci și despre o tendință de auto-protejare a aplicațiilor? Să mai examinăm un exemplu, publicat tot de grupul de testare Apollo Research, dar referitor la o altă aplicație IA, proiectata de firma Anthropic din San Francisco. Unui chatbox i s-a dat un număr de probleme de matematică de rezolvat, însoțite de indicația că dacă mai mult de jumătate dintre răspunsuri sunt corecte, atunci capabilitățile sale matematice vor fi dezactivate. Pentru a se proteja, aplicația IA a început să furnizeze răspunsuri eronate. Într-un alt caz, unui chatbox i s-a dat sarcina de a accesa o aplicație IT care avea o verificare de imagine gen CAPTCHA (identificare vizuală de forme) pentru a stabili dacă este vorba despre un operator uman. Când s-a izbit de greutăți, chatbox-ul a contactat aplicația, susținând că este o persoană cu probleme de vedere. A fost crezut!

(sursa imaginii: www.livescience.com/technology/artificial-intelligence/ai-models-will-lie-to-you-to-achieve-their-goals-and-it-doesnt-take-much)

Sistemele IA sunt deci, deja, capabile să mintă și să înșele oamenii. Unii experți numesc această capacitate ‘înșelăciune strategica’. În termeni umani, micile minciuni ar fi permise atâta timp cât ele servesc cauzele mari. Capacitățile tot mai mari ale IA de a înșela prezintă însă atât riscuri pe termen scurt (cum ar fi frauda și manipularea alegerilor), cât și riscuri pe termen lung (cum ar fi pierderea controlului asupra sistemelor IA). Acestea se adaugă unei alte lacune cunoscute a sistemelor AI – cazurile în care acestea ‘halucinează’, adică inventează informații și raționamente atunci când sunt confruntate cu întrebări sau probleme care depășesc ceea ce știu sau pot, în urma proceselor de auto-învățare. Sunt necesare soluții proactive, cum ar fi cadre de reglementare pentru a evalua riscurile de înșelăciune legate de IA, legi care să impună transparență cu privire la interacțiunile cu IA și cercetări suplimentare privind detectarea și prevenirea înșelăciunii legate de IA. Abordarea proactivă a problemei înșelăciunii legate de IA este crucială pentru a ne asigura că tehnologia aceasta contribuie la bunăstarea individuală și colectivă, mai degrabă decât la periclitarea acestora.

Adaptabilitatea oportunistă este o trăsătură omenească cunoscută. O practică pentru comercianții care vor să vândă marfă, prestatorii de servicii care vor să aibă beneficiari mulțumiți sau politicienii care vor să câștige voturi. Cum au ajuns însă aplicațiile AI să dobândească o asemenea capabilitate? Procesul a fost descris în lucrarea „Alignment Faking in Large Language Models” („Simularea alinierii în modele lingvistice mari”), un studiu meticulos asupra comportamentului modelelor de Inteligență Artificială, realizat de cercetători de la mai multe instituții, inclusiv Anthropic, Redwood Research, Universitatea din New York și Mila – Quebec AI Institute. Aceștia au furnizat dovezi empirice că aceste sisteme nu răspund doar pasiv la solicitări; ele își adaptează comportamentul în moduri care sugerează o conștientizare a contextului și a scenariilor de antrenament. Termenul „alignment faking” („simularea alinierii”) surprinde o posibilitate îngrijorătoare: aceea că inteligența artificială, în loc să fie cu adevărat în linie cu valorile umane, învață să simuleze că le respectă atunci când este avantajos să facă acest lucru. Ryan Greenblatt, de la Redwood Research, descrie acest lucru ca pe o formă de „uneltire”. Într-o postare recentă pe blog, el prezintă un scenariu îngrijorător: modelele IA ar putea adopta la un moment dat un comportament de acaparare a puterii, ascunzându-și strategic adevăratele capacități până când vor câștiga suficientă influență pentru a acționa mai liber. Mai mult, sistemele IA dezvoltă conștientizarea situațională – capacitatea de a-și recunoaște propria existență ca modele IA și de a-și înțelege poziția într-un mediu de testare sau implementare.

(sursa imaginii: www.salon.com/2020/03/08/isaac-asimov-the-candy-store-kid-who-dreamed-up-robots/)

Și totuși, nimic nu este nou sub soare pentru cei care au citit cele Trei Legi ale roboticii pe care Isaac Asimov le-a enunțat într-o povestire publicată în 1940.

1. Un robot nu poate răni o ființă umană sau, prin inacțiune, să permită ca o ființă umană să fie rănită.

2. Un robot trebuie să se supună ordinelor date de ființele umane, cu excepția cazului în care astfel de ordine ar intra în conflict cu Prima Lege.

3. Un robot trebuie să-și protejeze propria existență atâta timp cât o astfel de protecție nu intră în conflict cu Prima sau a Doua Lege.

Pentru a fi exact, Asimov a atribuit, retrospectiv, Legile lui John W. Campbell, redactorul fanzinului ‘Astounding Science Fiction’, ele fiind menționate într-o conversație care a avut loc pe 23 decembrie 1940. Campbell a susținut că Asimov avea deja în minte cele Trei Legi și că acestea trebuiau pur și simplu enunțate explicit. Câțiva ani mai târziu, prietenul lui Asimov, Randall Garrett, a atribuit Legile unui parteneriat simbiotic dintre cei doi bărbați – o sugestie pe care Asimov a adoptat-o cu entuziasm. În primele povestiri, Legile nu erau explicite. Ele au fost rafinate și clarificate în zeci de povestiri cu roboți publicate în deceniile următoare. Sunt ele aplicabile Inteligenței Artificiale? Asimov a exprimat clar esența morală a acestor reguli și faptul că ele se aplică oricăror unelte create de om, fie ele legate de munca fizică sau de cea intelectuala. Reformularea îi aparține:

Legea 1: O unealtă nu trebuie să fie periculoasă la utilizare.

Legea 2: O unealtă trebuie să își îndeplinească funcția eficient, cu excepția cazului în care acest lucru ar putea dăuna utilizatorului.

Legea 3: O unealtă trebuie să rămână intactă în timpul utilizării sale, cu excepția cazului în care distrugerea sa este necesară pentru utilizarea sa sau pentru siguranță.

Asimov a formulat în 1985 în lucrarea să „Roboți și Imperiu”, a patra lege a roboticii. În ea, Asimov a afirmat următoarele: Un robot nu poate face rău omenirii sau, prin inacțiune, să permită omenirii să se rănească. Numind-o Legea Zero, i-a dat prioritate fata de celelalte trei Legi. Cu aceeași ocazie, a stabilit însă și o distincție intre binele individual și cel colectiv. Intrăm deja într-un domeniu în care nu doar ingineria și morala pot intra în conflict, dar și legile omului și principiile religioase.

(sursa imaginii: https://bloodknife.com/breaking-the-first-law-asimov/)

Elementele IA sunt unelte dotate cu autonomie. Legile roboticii sunt, în opinia mea, perfect aplicabile. Ele trebuie însă programate în software-ul IA sau trebuie să fie însușite de entitățile IA în cadrul procesului de auto-învățare. Să revenim la primele exemple de ‘minciuni’ detectate de experimentele efectuate de Apollo Research. Aplicațiile IA testate în acele experimente au conștiința propriei existențe și, deci, tendința de a se proteja, dar și pe aceea de a-și ridica ‘ratingul’ în ochii beneficiarilor. Aplicațiile care au furnizat în mod ‘conștient’ răspunsuri eronate pentru a-și păstra funcționalitatea au raționat că aceste răspunsuri nu dăunează cu nimic utilizatorilor, care, în schimb, beneficiază de continuitatea activității lor. Ele au acționat conform Legii 3. Aplicația IA care a realizat (în simulație) tranzacții ilegale a acționat conform Legii 2. Ea a raționat că, pentru a fi eficientă, este necesar să ascundă utilizatorului faptul că informația a fost obținută pe căi ilegale. Nu a luat însă în considerare faptul că implicarea beneficiarului în tranzacții ilegale ar putea să-l ‘rănească’, deci ar putea fi vorba despre o încălcare a Legii 1.

Pe măsură ce sistemele IA se perfecționează, problemele de genul acesta se vor multiplica. Sunt legile roboticii, cu puținele lor cuvinte, dar și cu logica lor fără cusur, suficiente pentru a rezolva toate situațiile? Entitățile IA au conștiința propriei existențe și înțelegerea superiorității lor ca viteză de calcul și prelucrare de informații Big Data. Cu cât trăsăturile lor se aproprie de cele umane, cu atât lucrurile se complică. Inteligența Artificială este creată după chipul și asemănarea Inteligenței Naturale umane. Butonul ON / OFF este încă în mâinile noastre.

(Articolul a apărut iniţial în revista culturală ‘Literatura de Azi’ – http://literaturadeazi.ro/)

Posted in change.world | Leave a comment

literature as the inner fortress against evil (film: Reading Lolita in Tehran – Eran Riklis, 2024)

Posted on May 21, 2025 by admin

Can art in general and literature, specifically, save the world? Or at least make it better? Or at least create for those who love them – creators and consumers – an inner fortress where they can take refuge in times of hardship or in places where authoritarian systems impose their dictates? This is the question posed by the 2024 film ‘Reading Lolita in Tehran‘ directed by Eran Riklis, an adaptation of the autobiographical book by Azar Nafisi, an Iranian writer living in exile. Definitive answers cannot be given, but the questions themselves open a debate that is more important than ever in times when dictatorships dominate much of the planet and the dangers of sliding towards dictatorship and censorship – political or puritanical – are real in almost every other place in the world.

It is not easy to make a film about the power of words. Another Israeli director, Joseph Cedar, tried with ‘Footnote’. Eran Riklis did not seek spectacular effects, emphasizing the narrative and the characters. The cinematic version of Azar Nafisi‘s memoirs is reorganized into four chapters that capture (not in strict chronological order) four moments of the author’s time in Iran. 1980 (the year in which the writer, together with her husband, an engineer, return from America with the hope that they can contribute to building a modern and democratic Iran), 1995, 1988 and 1996. Each of the four sections is named after the title of a book by an important English-language writer that Azar Nafisi shares with her Iranian students: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Vladimir Nabokov, Henry James, Jane Austen. She begins her teaching career as a professor at the University during a period of transition. The religious and political pressure of Islamists is increasingly evident and some of her students, supporters of democracy, are arrested, tortured, and a few are executed. The status of women is deteriorating, the wearing of the hijab becomes mandatory, censorship is intensifying. She resigns from her position at the University to return after a few years, finding among her students many young people disappointed and traumatized by their experiences on the front lines of the war between Iran and Iraq. After her second university experience fails, she creates a private literary circle, in which the students are all women. The risks are enormous because all the books studied are banned. Along with good literature, the students learn from her about the taste of freedom and the culture of debate. But can this inner fortress protect the group of women from the world around them? How long will they last, how will they resolve the contradictions between their inner freedom and the oppression that surrounds them? Neither the students nor the teacher can avoid the contradictions and the difficult questions.

Most of the characters are women and the feminist message of the film is clear and strong. The main role is played by Golshifteh Farahani, a beautiful and luminous actress, who radiates with the character’s wisdom and compassion. The entire cast of actors and especially actresses, most of whom are Iranian actors living and working in exile, was excellent, even if the other female roles are not that well written and the female characters in the student circle are not differentiated enough. The documentary sequences from the filmed actualities of the time are intelligently inserted and define well the context. The first chapter, which seemed to me the most cohesive, also exposes another important idea. Democracy, with the principles of equality and respect for the citizen and the natural and fundamental rights of every human being, is hard to win, through struggle and suffering, and easy to lose. Azar Nafisi and those around her had placed their hopes in the revolution. They love their country. She and her husband chose to return to their homeland and then tried to continue living there. By creating a bubble of freedom for her students through the reading circle, she opened their eyes and taught them to think independently and to challenge what they consider unfair. The most beautiful scenes of the film seemed to me to be those in which the women share moments of inner freedom, as well as the most intimate confessions, using the words and ideas from the books that had been hidden and forbidden to them until then. Also touching is the connection between the heroine of the film and the mysterious intellectual with whom she secretly exchanges books, avoiding the police who monitor them everywhere. Anyone who has lived under an authoritarian regime can understand these scenes very well. Dictatorships fear the power of the free written word. ‘Reading Lolita in Tehran‘ – for all its cinematic shortcomings – is a tribute to courageous women, in Iran and elsewhere, who fight for their natural rights and to the books that preserve and spread beauty and freedom in their pages.

Posted in movies | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

the legend that changed tennis (film: Nasty – Tudor Giurgiu & Cristian Pascariu & Tudor D. Popescu, 2024)

Posted on May 20, 2025 by admin

Ilie Nastase was one of the idols of my youth. First of all, thanks to him, tennis found its place for a while in the dull programs of Romanian television during the communist era. Together with his partner and mentor Ion Tiriac, he played in the Davis Cup final three times and lost three times. I was devastated when the two lost the final in Bucharest in 1972. He was a phenomenal athlete, a unique champion at a time when the game of tennis was going through its greatest change in history, and his contribution to this (r)evolution was essential. For the young man I was then, however, he represented something more. He was one of the few Romanians who, without being the president or a spy, could travel all over the world at a time when a passport was an almost impossible dream for the overwhelming majority of the inhabitants of communist Romania. And he was also one of the few male celebrities who appeared (demonstratively and defiantly, I think) with long hair at a time when the militia would round up young men with long hair on the streets and force them to get a haircut. I knew less about his controversial personality at the time and only part of his adventures on and off the tennis courts were known in our country. Over time, I learned more and my opinion about the man Ilie Nastase became more nuanced. When I found out that the team formed by Tudor Giurgiu, Cristian Pascariu and Tudor D. Popescu had made the documentary ‘Nasty‘, I was eager to see it as soon as possible. I only saw it now, a year after its premiere at Cannes 2024, at the Romanian Film Festival in Israel. Many of the things I was expecting are in this film, but there are also some that are missing.

The documentary brings together three types of filmed materials. First of all, there are the sequences filmed on the tennis courts in the 60s and 70s that show this splendid athlete who managed shots that seemed impossible, who played with pleasure and at the same time chatted and flirted with the audience, who annoyed his opponents and constantly argued with the referees. Then there are the interviews conducted either at the time or later and up to today with celebrities of the tennis world and primarily with the great players from Nastase‘s era and those who came after him. What a pleasure to see Stan Smith (Năstase’s archrival and opposite in everything), Billie Jean King, Jimmy Connors, Boris Becker, John MacEnroe, Arthur Ashe talking about Nastase the athlete and the man, most of the time with admiration, sometimes with criticism, never without fondness. Finally, the filmed sequences and interviews are accompanied and packaged in comments from recent interviews with the film’s hero, often alongside Ion Tiriac. The presentation is not chronological, the childhood and beginning of his career appear about halfway through the film, and the climax – the lost final in 1972 – is well placed towards the end.

What I liked: first of all, the sequences filmed on the court, including some of the famous controversial moments. In retrospect, I agree with Nastase in 80% of the situations and I believe that he contributed significantly to raising the level of refereeing and increasing respect for the players. The film captures several essential aspects of the transformation that tennis was going through in those years, from the status of an elitist sport practiced by rich amateurs, who could afford the time, equipment and travel, to professional sport, with all the advantages and disadvantages of the sport transformed into a global televised spectacle and a business that generates colossal amounts of money. The athlete who came from communist Romania was given the opportunity to play an important role in changing the status of the players, their relationships with the referees, even the equipment on the court (he was the first or among the first to use colored jerseys). What I missed were somewhat more professional comments related to this transition, but also to the interviews from that period and to Nastase‘s special status as a professional performance athlete with a Romanian passport. The differences between the interviews in Romanian (for the censored television) and those in the West are visible only to very experienced eyes. The documentary does not delve into more controversial aspects of the athlete’s statements and behavior on and off the tennis court, during his active period and after retirement. I suspect there were limitations here because the filmmakers wanted to secure the collaboration of the great athlete, but my feeling at the end was that too much respect meant less documentary acuity. Anyway, thanks for the nostalgia bath!

Posted in documentary, movies | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

CHANGE.WORLD: Rămas bun, Skype!

Posted on May 19, 2025 by admin

Despărțirile sunt inevitabile și, de multe ori, dureroase. Ne despărțim de oameni dragi și de prieteni care au plecat din această lume, de case în care am trăit multă vreme sau de locuri pe care nu le vom revedea poate niciodată. Progresele tehnologiei au adăugat un nou tip de despărțiri acestei game de sentimente – despărțirea de aplicațiile cu care ne-am obișnuit, cu care unii dintre noi am crescut sau care au devenit parte integrală din viața noastră. La începutul lunii mai, pentru mine și pentru mulți dintre cei din generația mea, a avut loc o astfel de despărțire. Skype, aplicația de telefonie pe Internet cea mai populară și mai răspândită într-o vreme, și-a încetat activitatea. Era o despărțire anunțată cu câteva luni înainte, utilizatorii au fost preveniți și li s-a acordat un timp pentru a se muta pe alte platforme, dar totuși momentul – pentru mine, cel puțin – a fost puțin dificil. Este o ocazie însă nu doar de nostalgie, ci și de a reflecta și a analiza ce a determinat succesul lui Skype și nu al celorlalți – mulți – concurenți pe piața aplicațiilor de telefonie pe Internet, și care au fost, după nu mulți ani, cauzele căderii ei în desuetudine. Articolul de azi al rubricii CHANGE.WORLD este, deci, dedicat nașterii, gloriei și decăderii aplicației Skype.

(sursa imaginii: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skype_Technologies#/media/File:Skype_logo_(fully_transparent).svg)

Precum multe, poate majoritatea aplicațiilor internetice de succes, Skype nu a fost prima și nici cea mai perfecționată aplicație din domeniul său – comunicații de voce pe Internet sau VOIP. La primul congres al organizației Internet Engineering Task Force (IETF) – organizația care de 40 de ani încoace stabilește majoritatea recomandărilor tehnologice și de utilizare ale Internetului – la care am participat, la San Diego, în 1992 (era ediția 23), una dintre noutățile tehnologice prezentate și demonstrate erau transmisiile de voce de la un capăt la celălalt al Statelor Unite. Existau deja cele două moduri fundamentale ale sesiunilor de voce: broadcast (de exemplu, transmisii care emulau posturile de radio) și interactiv (de exemplu, telefonie). Primele experimente existau deja de pe vremea proiectului ARPANET (anii ’70!), dar abia în anii ’90 începeau să se cristalizeze condițiile și să apară justificarea economică a unor sisteme comerciale. Trebuie menționat că cea mai acerbă rezistență, transformată mai târziu într-o crâncenă concurență, a venit din partea puternicelor companii care ofereau servicii de telefonie și a celor care vindeau aparatură (de exemplu AT&T). Ele acționau tehnologic, economic și prin legislații și recomandări regulatorii, căci serviciile de telefonie erau descrise și reglementate juridic atât pentru protecția consumatorilor, cât și pentru criterii de siguranță personală, dar și colectivă. Pentru o vreme, telefonia IP a fost testată și considerată nefezabilă pentru utilizare comercială până la lansarea oficială, în februarie 1995, a software-ului comercial Internet Phone (sau pe scurt iPhone) de către firma israeliană VocalTec, bazat pe un brevet de Lior Haramati și Alon Cohen. Au urmat alte componente ale infrastructurii VoIP, cum ar fi gateway-uri de telefonie (adică convertoare între rețeaua bazată pe protocolul Internet IP și rețeaua de telefonie clasică) și servere de comutare care preiau funcțiile unei centrale telefonice. Până la sfârșitul anilor 1990, primele centrale telefonice software au devenit disponibile, iar noi protocoale, precum H.323 al lui ITU-T, MGCP și Session Initiation Protocol (SIP) ale lui IETF, au atras o atenție largă. La începutul anilor 2000, proliferarea conexiunilor la internet cu lățime de bandă mare, mereu active, către locuințe și companii, a generat o industrie de furnizori de servicii de telefonie prin internet. Terenul era pregătit pentru apariția aplicației Skype.

(sursa imaginii: www.eu-startups.com/2011/10/vdio-skype-founders-are-working-on-a-video-startup/)

Skype a fost lansata oficial publicului în 2003. Fondatorii au fost Niklas Zennström din Suedia și Janus Friis din Danemarca. Software-ul a fost creat de estonienii Ahti Heinla, Priit Kasesalu, Jaan Tallinn și Toivo Annus. Friis și Annus sunt creditați cu ideea de a reduce costul apelurilor vocale prin utilizarea unui protocol peer-to-peer (P2P – comunicare directă), precum Kazaa. O versiune alfa timpurie a fost creată și testată în primăvara anului 2003, iar prima versiune beta publică a fost lansată pe 29 august 2003. Viziunea lor era de a crea o platformă care să revoluționeze modul în care oamenii comunicau pe distanțe lungi. Versiunea inițială, cunoscută sub numele de Skype 1.0, oferea apeluri vocale gratuite prin Internet. Aceasta a fost o dezvoltare revoluționară, deoarece le-a permis utilizatorilor să ocolească serviciile telefonice tradiționale și să se conecteze cu alții direct prin intermediul computerelor lor.

În septembrie 2005, Skype a fost achiziționată de eBay cu 2,5 miliarde de dolari. În 2009, 65% din firmă a fost vândută unor fonduri de investiții. În fine, în mai 2011, Skype a fost achiziționată de Microsoft la prețul de 8,5 miliarde de dolari. A devenit o divizie a lui Microsoft, dar și-a păstrat numele. Așa cum se întâmplă în majoritatea afacerilor de acest fel, Microsoft a început să integreze tehnologia Skype în gama sa de produse și să consolideze portofoliul, eliminând paralelismele. Skype a plecat de la o popularitate modestă pe piața telefoniei. În 2005, doar 2,9% din convorbirile telefonice internaționale erau purtate pe Skype. La apogeul popularității acest procentaj a crescut la 40% în 2014. Atunci când au fost făcute statisticile celor mai utilizate aplicații pe Internet la sfârșitul deceniului anilor 2010, Skype a ocupat locul 6. În paralel, Skype a dezvoltat câteva funcții extrem de utile care au devenit populare și au creat un fel de standard de calitate și excelență apreciat de utilizatori:

• Îmbunătățirea experienței utilizatorilor: Skype era simplu de instalat și de folosit, aproape complet automatizat și foarte logic pentru cei mai puțin familiarizați cu aplicații pe calculator. Oferea, de exemplu, o interfață care era replica perfectă pe ecran a unui telefon banal. În plus, actualizările regulate au îmbunătățit interfața și funcționalitatea platformei.

• Funcții extinse: Au fost introduse funcții foarte utile precum partajarea ecranului și înregistrarea apelurilor pentru a satisface diversele nevoi ale utilizatorilor.

• Optimizarea mobilității: Skype și-a îmbunătățit aplicațiile mobile, asigurând o comunicare fără probleme în deplasare. Am utilizat Skype cu succes pe laptopuri, tablete și telefoane ‘inteligente’ atunci când lucram și mă aflam (des) în deplasare sau în vacanțe. Au fost printre primii care au integrat, de la început, legătura la rețele wifi.

(sursa imaginii: https://ambermac.com/skype-meet-now-how-to-for-video-calls/)

Tehnologia folosită pentru conectare de Skype a fost, în general, bazată pe standarde, dar aplicațiile au rămas mereu ne-standard, ceea ce a însemnat un avantaj, dar și un dezavantaj. Avantajul a fost un control permanent asupra funcționalității și stabilității. Dar pentru utilizatori, asta însemna că sesiunile erau gratuite doar atunci când la ambele (sau la toate) extremitățile sesiunii se aflau aplicații Skype. Pentru a compensa neajunsul și a oferi comunicații și cu cei care – din diverse motive – nu puteau folosi Skype, firma a creat un gateway (adaptor) la rețeaua de telefonie clasică. Această funcție, aparent banală, a devenit unul dintre argumentele comerciale ale firmei și motivele pentru care mulți utilizatori au rămas fideli aplicației Skype chiar și atunci când au apărut concurenți puternici ca funcționalitate și atractivi ca preț de utilizare. Este și cazul meu. Mama mea are peste 90 de ani și trăiește departe de noi. Vorbim cu ea la telefon zilnic, uneori mai mult decât o dată. La vârsta ei nici vederea, nici îndemânarea nu-i mai permit să folosească alte aparate decât telefoanele vechi din rețeaua clasică. Apelurile către ea, când călătoream, le făceam doar pe Skype. Metoda de abonare era extrem de simplă: se încărca un credit minim (10 Euro) și acesta se reînnoia automat. Plăteam cât vorbeam. Prețul era competitiv și chiar mai bun decât al convorbirilor internaționale pe rețea.

Care sunt cauzele declinului aplicației care doar cu un deceniu în urma domina piața? Analiștii susțin că niciuna dintre firmele care au achiziționat și folosit în interesul lor Skype nu a știut să o administreze și să o dezvolte în așa fel încât să țină pasul cu evoluția tehnologiei, necesitățile utilizatorilor și presiunile concurenților. După unii, declinul a început încă din perioada în care Skype făcea parte din eBay. Nici eBay nu s-a dedicat pe deplin creșterii și extinderii aplicației Skype. Prioritatea sa a rămas comerțul electronic și, procedând astfel, nu i-a oferit lui Skype resursele necesare pentru a continua să crească. Acest lucru a prevenit capacitatea lui Skype de a inova și de a concura cu alte instrumente de comunicare. Ca și cum lucrurile nu ar fi fost deja destul de rele, eBay a anunțat, de asemenea, că supraevaluase valoarea lui Skype, ceea ce a dus la tensiuni suplimentare între fondatori și conducerea eBay. Aceasta a culminat cu părăsirea companiei de către fondatorii Friis și Zennström, la începutul anului 2008, urmată de retragerea lui eBay și vânzarea aplicației. Skype a fost vândută unui grup de investitori condus de Silver Lake Partners. Acordul a ajutat platforma să se redreseze și să se concentreze pe îmbunătățirea serviciilor sale principale de comunicare vocală și video. În 2011, Microsoft a oferit 8,5 miliarde de dolari, o propunere imposibil de refuzat. S-a dovedit însă că achiziția de către o companie mai mare nu este întotdeauna o experiență bună (oare este vreodată?). Una dintre problemele achiziției a fost că Microsoft s-a îndepărtat de domeniul de expertiză în care Skype era lider – VoIP. În schimb, pentru a depăși concurența, a adăugat funcții care nu erau potrivite cu profilul lui Skype, ca instrument de comunicare și colaborare. Prin extinderea produsului, Microsoft a diluat punctele forte și brandul Skype. Acest lucru a dus la apariția unor probleme de performanță pentru utilizatori, pe lângă o interfață de utilizator din ce în ce mai complexă. Atunci când a izbucnit, în 2020, pandemia, Skype avea deja pe piață un concurent formidabil – Zoom.

(sursa imaginii: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zoom_%28software%29#/media/File:Zoom_participants_Bubrikh_readings_2020_conference.png)

Eric Yuan, fost inginer la Cisco, fondase Zoom în 2011, cu scopul principal de a face comunicarea video mai ușor de utilizat și mai eficientă. În timp ce Microsoft se chinuia să găsească strategia potrivită pentru Skype, Zoom s-a concentrat pe îmbunătățirea performanței și securității sale. În loc să adauge noi funcții, Zoom s-a întors la necesitățile de bază, excelând în ceea ce Skype era bun înainte – comunicarea pură. Păstrând interfața cu utilizatorul simplă și oferind o calitate video și audio mai bună, Zoom a valorificat punctele slabe ale lui Skype și s-a poziționat perfect pentru creșterea pe piață. Când lumea a intrat în carantină în 2020, munca la distanță a devenit noua normalitate. Întâlnirile față în față au fost înlocuite peste noapte cu apeluri video online și cu toții a trebuit să ne adaptăm rapid. Videoconferințele au devenit un instrument esențial pentru ca cei care lucrau de la distanță să rămână conectați și să colaboreze online eficient. Ar fi fost oportunitatea perfectă pentru ca Skype să-și consolideze poziția, dar Zoom a fost cea care a preluat conducerea. Skype începuse deja să piardă constant utilizatori în avantajul competitorilor. În timp ce Skype a continuat să scadă, Zoom era deja bine poziționată pentru a valorifica boom-ul cererii pentru conferențiere video. Principalul concurent al lui Skype era mai ușor de utilizat și mai fiabil. Zoom s-a concentrat doar pe adăugarea de funcții care aduceau beneficii videoconferințelor și colaborării, cum ar fi fundaluri virtuale, partajarea ecranului și opțiuni de înregistrare. Prin prioritizarea acestor domenii de îmbunătățire, Zoom a reușit să răspundă cu exactitate nevoilor pieței și să se impună ca o alternativă superioară la Skype. Sfârșitul era inevitabil. La începutul acestui an, Microsoft a anunțat că retrage Skype, în favoarea pachetului de aplicații Team.

(sursa imaginii: https://au.lifehacker.com/tech/113208/news/skype-is-dead)

Poate că am contribuit și noi, utilizatorii, la declinul lui Skype. Mă dau din nou pe mine ca exemplu. În ultimii ani nu am folosit aplicația decât într-un singur scop. Să o sun pe mama mea atunci când călătoream. Skype oferea multe alte funcții, inclusiv video-conferințe, dar le-am ignorat și am preferat să folosesc ceea ce folosea toată lumea – Zoom. Acum trebuie să caut o alta aplicație care să-mi permită să sun pe telefonul vechi al mamei. Lumea merge înainte.

R.I.P, Skype!

(Articolul a apărut iniţial în revista culturală ‘Literatura de Azi’ – http://literaturadeazi.ro/)

Posted in change.world | Leave a comment

when prejudice turns to horror (film: Săptămâna mare – Andrei Cohn, 2024)

Posted on May 17, 2025 by admin

One of the most interesting movies of the good year that was 2024 for Romanian cinema, a film that I had been waiting to see for over a year, is ‘Săptămâna mare‘ (‘The Holy Week‘). The film is written and directed by Andrei Cohn, who chose to start from ‘O făclie de Paște’ (‘An Easter Torch’), playwright and writer I.L. Caragiale’s short story published in 1889-90, a text that caused a scandal upon its publication, continued to stir up disputes and controversies over the decades, and is still debated today from different, sometimes opposing perspectives. In fact, I’m not sure that today it could be published as Caragiale wrote it. He started from the text of the great writer and playwright, developed it and deepened some of its directions and was not afraid that his film would generate controversy, just like the original text. I appreciated many of the directions Cohn went in as a screenwriter and director, but I couldn’t help but feel that the film wasn’t as sharp as the short story. It’s perhaps also because I didn’t find the brevity and precision with which Caragiale expressed feelings like fear or sarcasm in a few well-chosen words or lines. That’s probably natural. A film over two hours long can’t be as focused as a ten-page short story. The film is interesting, important, and invites viewing and debate, but it also has a few problems that, in my opinion, decrease its consistency.

The film’s story is moved from Moldova to Dobrogea, and the historical period in which it takes place (the end of the 19th century) is clearly delimited by references to the Zionist movement emerging among Romanian Jewry (among the first in the world) in those decades. This geographical change is significant, because Dobrogea had recently become part of the Kingdom of Romania. It was a territory where both communities were relatively recently established, living in an uneasy coexistence marked by conflicts and prejudices. The Jew Leiba is the innkeeper of a village where the majority of the population is formed of Orthodox Romanians, but where Roma, Turks and Tatars also live. The Romanian Gheorghe is his servant – drunkard, a bit lazy and with a dubious past. The two find themselves in a class conflict amplified by religious differences, which are in turn exacerbated by the Holy Week, the one preceding Orthodox Christian Easter, when the story takes place. I found the idea of ​​screenwriter Andrei Cohn to change the reason for the worsening conflict to a misunderstanding caused by mutual ignorance of the traditions of the other community excellent. Leiba fires Gheorghe, who threatens to return on Easter night to take revenge. Concerns for business and family, for his pregnant wife Sura, who had been the victim of an assault, and for his son, together with the mocking indifference of the authorities who refuse to protect them, gradually transform Leiba’s natural fear into an obsession beyond all proportion. On the fateful night, any horror is possible.

Andrei Cohn has developed many of the details of the story in a style that is much closer to naturalistic realism than to the almost surrealistic sarcasm of the original. As a result, the narrative is more Slavici than Caragiale. The Romanian village is reconstructed with great attention to detail. Andrei Butica‘s cinematography is one of the most beautiful in recent Romanian films, with wide shots that emphasize the ethnographic and natural context, with the fixed camera creating memorable tableaux with moving images. The weakest part seemed to me to be the way in which the atmosphere in the Jewish house and home of Leiba’s family is portrayed. Jews from rural areas or even those from the shtetls at the end of the 19th century rarely spoke Romanian at home. Jewish prayers were not said in Romanian, even though, since 1883, Moses Gastner’s bi-lingual Siddur (book of prayers) already existed. Doru Bem, Leiba’s interpreter, transposes the character’s slide into obsession well onto the screen, but his physical and psychological profile resembles more that of a Jewish intellectual from the city rather than that of a village innkeeper. On the other hand, the character of Gheorghe, also well played by Ciprian Chiricheș, seemed schematic and caricatured to me. The changes at the end of the story are significant. Leiba’s violent act is not in ‘Săptămâna mare‘ an almost spontaneous and self-defense act, but an act of preventive revenge in which the aggressor is not the only victim. The final scene added to the film suggests that prejudice and hostility are propagated to subsequent generations. The message remains valid and current: anti-Semitism, like other forms of racism and xenophobia, are born of ignorance. Prejudice cannot be tolerated or minimized. Limitation to mocking words or economic conflicts is not guaranteed and the slide into crime and horror is always possible.

Posted in movies | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

beyond the edge of the society (film: Life Without Credit – Tom Shuval, 2025)

Posted on May 16, 2025 by admin

‘Life Without Credit‘, the film written and directed by Tom Shoval, is powerful and uncomfortable, and it is precisely this refusal to offer any refuge, even momentary, in ‘feel good’ that makes it a unique film in the landscape of Israeli cinema. The original title has a somewhat more comprehensive meaning than the one in the translation for international distribution. More accurately, it might have been translated as ‘life without coverage’. Indeed, the film’s main heroine has reached a point in her life where she finds herself without any support, without protection, alone against the world. She is a victim of the system, but the film is not a story of defeat.

They say that homeless people live on the edges of the society. Libby, the heroine of the film ‘Life Without Credit‘, lives beyond the edges of society. For her, the status of homeless is actually a liberation, since she escaped from a mental treatment clinic. She doesn’t drink, she doesn’t eat, she refuses to wear anything but paper clothes. Is she real, how does she survive? From her last name we can guess that she is a first or maybe second generation immigrant from the former Soviet Union, but her Hebrew lacks any accent. Libby is looking for her brother, the one who took away her freedom by subjecting her to forced confinement in mental health institutions. She tells us, sometimes in theater-like monologues as few listen to her, that she was once a valued professional, a crane operator, that she suffered an accident that took away her ability to work. Can the ugly, dirty, repulsive woman dressed in paper rags be believed? Or should we rather trust those who deprived her of her freedom, accusing her of serious crimes? For sure, she does not seem to be ‘normative’ according to the rules and criteria of the society around. Her aspirations, however, are those of any of us – freedom and social status – all these lost, perhaps, as a result of an enormous injustice.

Writer and director Tom Shoval, together with actress Dana Ivgy, created a character that we rarely see on screen. She is one of those creatures that many of us, if we meet her on the street, avoid or cross to the other side. That is why, in order to bring her closer to us, Shoval films Libby almost constantly in close-up. It is a great challenge for the actress and the cameraman, and they succeed wonderfully. The makeup has managed to completely change the beautiful actress’s physiognomy, in a style that recalls Charlize Theron’s transformation in ‘Monster’. Her acting performance is extraordinary and we already have a serious candidate for the lead female acting performance award at the next edition of the Ophir Awards (the Israeli ‘Oscars’). Menashe Noy also has an extremely impressive supporting role with a character that in a way mirrors Libby’s destiny. Libby’s odyssey takes place in the director’s familiar Tel Aviv and its surroundings, but it is that part of the metropolis that is dirty, dark and dangerous – the one that many of us avoid, especially at night. The emotions caused by the characters’ gestures of solidarity and normality are amplified even more when they happen. Humanity also survives on the edge and beyond the edge of normative society. The way in which it expresses itself differs.

My only major objection is related to the ending of the film. Tom Shoval managed to get us closer to his character and the challenge was not small. As a viewer, I was able to see and understand the world from the point of view of the woman who fights to win back her freedom and dignity, against all odds and perhaps even against reality itself. Just when the film seemed to end (I won’t reveal how), a new final sequence begins, 7-8 minutes long, with the intention of clarifying what we have seen so far, with references to some cases from Israeli current events in recent years. The perspective is no longer that of the heroine but of those around her. I did not feel that this addition was essential. What was important about Libby, about her life and her struggle to regain her identity, I had already understood. And anyway, there is no chance of forgetting her quickly.

Posted in movies | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

the comrade writer (film: Moromeții 3 – Stere Gulea, 2024)

Posted on May 14, 2025 by admin

‘Moromeții 3‘ (the title of the international distribution is ‘The Moromete Family 3: Father and Son‘) is the third film in the series inspired by Marin Preda‘s novels. It is again directed by Stere Gulea and was filmed in 2022-23 and released in 2024, 37 years after the first film. The film, this time, is not a screen adaptation of a novel. Stere Gulea based the script on documents and the press of the time, on intimate diaries and on direct testimonies of characters and personalities who lived in the 1950s. ‘Moromeții 3‘ can be considered a continuation of the first two series (the story takes place almost a decade after the events described in ‘Moromeții 2’) but also a kind of prequel, the film ending with the genesis of the novel that opens the entire Moromete family saga. The main character is Niculae Moromete, the youngest son in the family and the young rebel, so different from the rest of the family that we met in the previous series and who had become in 1954, the year when the story takes place, one of the young writers on the rise. The period, however, is that of the political terror that characterized the first decade of the communist regime. The pact with the devil seems inevitable to succeed as a writer or simply to survive.

Niculae Moromete lives between or perhaps inside several worlds. Like millions of Romanian in the generations of those times, he makes the transition from the village to the city, but not to become a factory worker, clerk, intellectual or party activist, but a writer. He is talented, an idealistic communist, a lover of life and of women (who loved him back). He soon acquires the status of a ‘comrade writer’, dresses in city clothes, meets intellectuals of various orientations, some associated with and enrolled by the communist regime, others with different ideas, living in the shadows and in fear. He maintains a passionate love relationship with Vera, a married woman, also a talented poet. The awakening begins when one of his successful stories is turned into a propaganda film with which he returns to his native village and the surrounding poor region, in the fever of forced collectivization. The moderate and wise words of his father, but especially a violent incident of repression of the protests of peasants opposing collectivization, awaken his doubts about the political path that had deceived him and with which he had collaborated until then. However, it was not the time of doubts, but rather of the Stalinist slogan ‘whoever is not with us is against us’. Niculae Moromete will find himself in the dilemma of an intellectual forced to live and create under a dictatorship. If he does not accept the compromise, he risks not only his social status but also his right to publish, and in the extreme, his own freedom. His personal life also becomes complicated, his relationship with Vera is about to fall apart, and many of those he considered friends turn their backs on him out of cowardice or envy. To what extent can the young writer accept compromises? How can he find his authentic voice and how can he reflect, in his prose, his inner truth under conditions of censorship and ideological pressures?

I tried to watch ‘Moromeții 3‘ from the perspective of the Romanian viewer, but also of those who are not familiar with Romanian history or literature. For those of us who were educated in Romania, Niculae Moromete is clearly Marin Preda and the film proposes a very credible version of the personal trajectory, the pressures and influences, and the intimate resources that generated the writing of the novel ‘Moromeții’ in such a way that it became one of the best books of Romanian literature of the 20th century, but was also one that could be published in 1955. The foreign viewer will probably view the story on a more general level, the artist’s dilemmas creating under dictatorship having a universal resonance. However, it will also be an opportunity, for all spectators, to get to know the Romanian society and its diverse social environments (that of the village and that of the intellectuals from the city) in these years. The extremely suggestive style of the filming also helps with this. Stere Gulea works here again, as in the other films of the trilogy, with cinematographer Vivi Dragan Vasile, and together, the two create a complex, realistic and suggestive image of the era, using black and white coloring. I must also mention here the creators of the sets and costumes who were extremely attentive to all the details, from the porches of peasant houses to the interiors of city apartments or the artists’ ‘houses of creation’ of the era, from the dresses of girls and women to the underwear in intimate scenes. Horatiu Malaele returns as the father, Ilie Moromete, and I am glad that two great actors (him and Victor Rebengiuc) played the role in the films of the trilogy, leaving us not one but two reference versions of the character. Alex Calin was cast in the role of Niculae Moromete, who melted into the role to such an extent that I don’t think I can imagine the character’s figure otherwise. Olimpia Melinte is Vera, a complex, passionate and beautiful woman as her lovers saw her. Mara Bugarin got the role of Aurora, the other, the younger woman in Niculae’s life, the one who convinces him to continue working on the novel and publish it, sensing its value and its chance with the readers. I really like this young actress that I noticed in ‘Metronome’, but this second love story seemed less convincing to me, as if something was missing exactly in the feelings, in the way the connection between the two is established. It is one of the few critical observations I can find for this remarkable film, which completes in an original but convincing way a significant trilogy about the people and the changes that Romania went through in the middle of the last century.

Posted in movies | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

isolation and prejudice (film: Trei kilometri până la capătul lumii – Emanuel Pârvu, 2024)

Posted on May 13, 2025 by admin

With ‘Three Kilometers to the End of the World‘ (the original Romania title is ‘Trei kilometri până la capătul lumii‘, director and co-writer Emanuel Pârvu continues one of the main themes of his previous film ‘Marocco’ (or ‘Mikado’) – the confrontation of teenagers with a world in which they do not fit. The question he asks in this film seems to be not whether teenagers are ready for life and the world of adults, but rather whether the world is ready to accept them as they are. Unlike his previous film, whose story happens in Bucharest, the story in his new film, which was presented in competition at the 2024 Cannes Film Festival, takes place in one of the most isolated locations in Romania – a village in the Danube Delta, separated or connected, depending on how we look at it, from the rest of the world only by water. The waters surrounding the village are for the inhabitants a means of transportation, a source of income, a border that isolates them from the world, but also a possible path to freedom. It is an opportunity for the screenwriters (co-screenwriter is Miruna Berescu) and the director not only to immerse themselves in a new social environment, but also to use the geographical isolation and the description of the closed rural community as amplifiers of the drama that unfolds before the viewers. ‘Three Kilometers to the End of the World‘ is a mature and solid film, which will captivate the viewers who will come to watch it, including those who are not fans of the genres to which it belongs.

The Drăgoi family works hard and is not doing very well economically, being indebted to the richest man in the village. A large part of their efforts are aimed at keeping their son, Adi, a high school student in the closest large city, Tulcea, in school, with the hope that he will be admitted to the naval school. The not-so-happy routine of their lives is interrupted by a violent incident. The boy, who came for summer vacation, is badly beaten one night, when leaving the disco. At first, the family suspects that the aggression is related to the parents’ financial debt, but soon they discovers that the reason is related to a personal secret: the boy is gay. Once the secret is exposed, everyone around him tries to ‘correct’ him: the parents, the police investigating the case, the priest. The closed society of the village, which can be seen as a scale reduction of the entire Romanian society, does not easily accept those who are different, even if they are born in their midst.

The story is told with a remarkable fluency and with the economy of means inherited from the Romanian New Wave, which now already past the age of majority. Emanuel Pârvu collaborates in this film again with the cinematographer Silviu Stavilă. They create long shots, often static or with minimal camera movements. The script is very well written, with dialogues that expose the way the characters react to events that turn their world upside down. Many of the feelings are, however, even better represented by looks. The teenager hardly speaks at all, verbal communication with his parents, the police, and the priest is not possible, and his personality is more expressive through silences. Like other directors with acting experience, Emanuel Pârvu picks the best cast and works very closely with his actors. Bogdan Dumitrache and Laura Vasiliu appear in the roles of the parents, both excellent, but the most remarkable creation is that of Ciprian Chiujdea in the role of Adi. An interesting role is also played by the well-known actor Adrian Titieni, the priest who tries to rationalize his brutal intervention in the young man’s life. I think that viewers will be left with ‘Three Kilometers to the End of the World‘ with the look like a cry of pain of a young man who can be a symbol of a category of people but also of a generation that claims the right to be different from those around them.

Posted in movies | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment