The recipient of much critical acclaim and considered in retrospect one of the most notable contributions to Romanian cinema, The Reenactment was released at a time when the communist regime was in its liberalization phase, coinciding with the first decade of rule by Nicolae Ceaușescu.
The incident was witnessed by Pătraşcu during the early 1960s, and took place in his native town of Caransebeş, shortly before a celebration of August 23 (Communist Romania's national holiday, commemorating the 1944 coup).
[1][2] The militiamen involved had detained two youths with no prior criminal record, accusing them of having been drunk and disorderly, and had decided to make them reenact the scene in order to educate the public about the perils of alcohol.
[1][2] Pătrașcu, who credits German writer Erich Maria Remarque and his All Quiet on the Western Front with having inspired his narrative, states: "At the actual, filmed reenactment I for one had a terrible shock.
The first was Radu Gabrea, who abandoned it once he decided to resettle in West Germany; the second was Liviu Ciulei, who disagreed with the writer over the plot's tragic outcome, and eventually ended talks.
[5] The film was shot on location in the Southern Carpathian resort of Sinaia, but preserves some elements from the intended setting, including the restaurant's name Pescăruș ("Seagull"), which had been borrowed from its Caransebeș model.
[2] A recurring motif in the film is the background noise of crowds rooting for their squad during a soccer match, in what the director explains is a satirical allusion to the Greek choir's role in cheering the performers, in this case transfigured by "human dumbness".
[6] In 2004, Lucian Pintilie wrote that his decision to shoot the film was also motivated by his disgust in respect to the invasive practices of communist authorities, having previously been informed that one of his friends, a closeted gay actor, was denounced for breaking Romania's sodomy law, and, in order to avoid the prison sentence, was forced to have intercourse with his wife while investigators watched.
[6] Pintilie also stated his objection to the very notion of an inquiry, noting that such a procedure "is the most effective way of veiling reality", and indicated that the film was in part an allusion to the tradition of torture and repeated interrogation, enforced by the Securitate secret police in the previous decade.
[4] Commenting on such traits, Cristian Tudor Popescu wrote: "37 years ago, a prosecutor and two militiamen were organizing, on the terrace of an isolated pub, the reenactment of a brawl between two guys.
Pătraşcu recalls that the film was only shown sporadically as the censorship apparatus was deciding its fate: it premiered at the Luceafărul Cinema in Bucharest, where "the projectionist was driven out of his mind" because it ran as the main feature for two months on end.
"[5] It was as a result of the scandal that communist officials began investigating Romanian cinema in general, and intervened to stop filming on Pragul albastru, which was based on a screenplay by Ion Dezideriu Sîrbu, a former political prisoner who was undergoing rehabilitation.
[8] For instance, it describes how, moments after having seen the film in Bucharest, the avant-garde author and former communist Geo Bogza scribbled in the snow set on the director's car the words: "Long live Pintilie!
In a fragment of his 1970 diary, published in 2003, he reflected his frustration over this issue, comparing the censorship apparatus with the bureaucrats sarcastically depicted in the works of 19th century writer Nikolai Gogol: "the Gogolian clerks have decided to strike me out of Romanian cinema for good.
[13] Another clash between Pintilie and the communist system occurred in 1972, when he satirized officials by staging a subversive version of Gogol's The Government Inspector, which was suspended soon after its premiere.
"[14] During the following period, Pintilie only worked sporadically in Romania and was pressured to seek employment abroad[2][8][9] (notably, in the United States, where he served as artistic director for Minneapolis' Guthrie Theater and Washington, D.C.'s Arena Stage).
[10] Pătrașcu, dissatisfied by the new restrictive guidelines, avoided contributing screenplays, and instead focused on cultural activities with Adrian Păunescu's Cenaclul Flacăra, whose shows still maintained a degree of artistic independence.
[2] He resumed film directing and producing, with titles such as Balanţa, An Unforgettable Summer, Lumière and Company, and the 1996 Too Late (nominated for Palme d'Or at the Cannes Festival, the same year).
[2] In January 2008, the copy kept by the Romanian National Gallery was presented at the Palm Springs Festival's Archival Treasures Program, being introduced by Chicago Public Radio's Milos Stehlik.