When four young directors team up with a young Golden Palm winner to shoot a short film based on the latter’s scripts, each taking on a story to be collated into a final comedy feature, one cannot escape the thought that the young directors are just tagging along. It looks like little more than a gimmicky career opportunity for them, and a chance for the celebrated director to boast about his cool mates and himself (with only half the effort). Yet, somehow, after watching Tales from the Golden Age, we realise that we might have been mistaken. Each of the five episodes breathes with the same technical rigor as if the film was owned by a single director.

Cristian Mungiu (4 luni, 3 saptamâni si 2 zile [4 Months, 3 Weeks & 2 Days] (2007)) teams up with four young hopefuls (Hanno Höfer, Răzvan Mărculescu, Constantin Popescu and Ioana Uricaru) to recreate the social legends of the Communist era. Tales from the Golden Age is in fact a collection of seven such stories, each directed by a different director. In the UK, we get a chance to view five of all of the seven episodes that make up the film. The production team has decided to tailor the final product depending on the each destination country. The central question is what makes those five episodes appropriate to the British market.

The Legend of the Official Visit opens the film with its lyric picture of Communist countryside. Everyone is preparing for the official visit of a delegation of some kind – well actually just a convoy that will pass by the village on the motorway, but party officials can take no chances. What if the convoy decides to stop? Will they see people just getting themselves on with their lives, or will they see an entire village stop their economic activity and prepare for a party glorifying the great Communist dream. What unravels is a detailed view of the sheer poverty of the country, coupled with the immense dedication and ‘good will’ of the people to give everything they have for the sake of satisfying the party officials. In around thirty minutes, this comedy tells us more about the hypocrisy and meaninglessness of the politics of the time than most feature films on the subject have covered so far. This is an overture that opens the door to the mood of the ‘Golden Age’, and allows us to enter seamlessly into that social psyche.

The second story is arguably more familiar to the Western eyes. The Legend of the Party Photographer tells the simple story of how the press and the photographers themselves become artists of deceit, all for the purpose of earning their living. Ceauşescu was not a tall man, but on all the official photos he had to be the tallest. Sometimes his gallantly would come before the demands of propaganda, but the party ensured that his behaviour never caused political problems: the challenge for the party photographer (Avram Birău) starts when the party leader decides to take his hat off while listening to Giscard d’Estaing. Maybe he was just too warm, but what could the people think on looking at the front page? Is Romania’s fearless socialist leader taking his hat off to the glory of capitalism? What is brilliant in this film is how much credit the leaders were giving the public in their ability to read metaphors into newspaper articles. But as history told us, no lie remains hidden forever.

This portmanteau film is a one about the common people and their sacrifices they are forced to make just to ensure they live an ordinary life. The Legend of the Chicken Driver is arguably the best in illustrating that. Grigore (Vlad Ivanov) has to drive over 250 miles a day with a sealed truck full of chickens. The rule is that he should arrive at each destination by evening, and under no circumstance should he open the truck. The trouble is that Grigore is in love with an inn owner Camelia (Tania Popa), and he would do anything to spend the night at her place. Fortunately for him, one of his wheels is stolen while he’s there, and he is happily forced to spend the night. When asked to open the truck to feed the chicken he finds they have laid a lot of eggs. And what happiness is there for Camelia to have so many free eggs in the Easter shortage! Shot in Mungiu’s distinct style (although the production team refuses to tell which director shot which film), this episode plays masterly with the party illusion that common people were living the Communist dream. The real truth is that most remained devoutly Christian, most learned how to deceive the state in order to lead a capitalist existence, and above all, most of them were living their lives driven by human emotions (such as love, lust, hunger) rather than the party ideals.

Preparing for Christmas, policeman Alexa (Ion Sapdaru) wants pork meat in The Legend of the Greedy Policeman. The trouble is that his relatives bring him a real live pig into his tower block. The challenge is how to kill him without the neighbours knowing, using only flat utensils. This is the episode that will have you glued to your sit with anxiety. Many may not understand why Alexa needs so much meat to feed his small family, but without question they will enjoy the process. Romanian cinema has rarely got so close to dark humour, but it is appetising to see that there are a lot of ingredients there.

The final story, The Legend of the Air Sellers, is easily the most accessible for the foreign viewer, despite the fact that the premise is slightly far-fetched. Bughi (Radu Iacoban) is a charming chap who has found out that he can make more money out of selling empty bottles than a doctor or professor could throughout a year by doing their job. The interesting fact is how he goes about it. Teaming up with a schoolgirl Crina (Diana Cavallioti), they embark on a stylish Bonnie and Clyde-style chase throughout the city in search of those money-making bottles. The director of this episode uses the same lyrical movement as the great Arthur Penn, playing mischievously with danger and sexuality in a decaying world.

Tales from the Golden Age is a fresh film for the media-branded Romanian New Wave. All five episodes show these are not just experimental directors who deny the validity of the cinema that came before them. For them the use of handheld cameras and non-professional actors is not an end in itself. What they care for is to make a film that works artistically, but for once, a film that can work commercially too. It is undeniable that the film will fare better in the ex-Eastern block, but their skill at delivering stories that can be understood by those with little knowledge of the historic facts without jeopardising the complexity of the social order they are trying to portray, should be celebrated. Akin to a collection of short stories, reminiscent of Kipling, this film may help Romanian cinema in a way that few had expected.