Presented in the Orizzonti section of the Venice Film Festival, Milk Teeth [+leggi anche:
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scheda film], written and directed by Mihai Mincan, focuses on Maria (Emma Ioana Mogos), a ten-year-old girl in 1989 Romania, during the twilight days of Nicolae Ceaușescu’s dictatorship. Her sister Alina disappears, and her mother (Marina Palii) and father (Igor Babiac) are devastated. The film has something sinister in common with the recent box-office hit Weapons, as it also explores the mysterious disappearance of a child. Although the approach, genre and style are completely different, the sense of utter despair when faced with the unknown and the inexplicable loss of a son, or a daughter, is similar, as it’s a universal topic and sentiment.

The film takes its time to delve deep into Maria’s world, her personal quest and her confusion. She is growing up in a changing political world that she doesn’t fully grasp, while having to understand what happened to her sister. It intertwines the fate of a country with the personal grief of a family. The sluggish approach may be disliked by those audiences who prefer more traditionally engaging and fast-paced cinema. In some people’s eyes, this could be the film's biggest flaw, whereas for others, it may represent its strength. In Milk Teeth, in fact, we witness a major event in the first few minutes of the movie, which subsequently only revolves around the aftermath and the consequences of it. It’s a great example of filmmaking that takes its time to process, ponder and elaborate on events without having to pack its scenes with high-octane action.

The feature is all about emotions, and Mincan masterfully plays with feelings and senses through some great sound design (which involved Academy Award winner Nicolas Becker), and lets the story flow at its own pace. Emma Ioana Mogos’s acting is superb, and she can undoubtedly be considered one of the most memorable child actors of this season. Her natural and spontaneous approach to the character allows an immediate sense of authenticity to shine through, and very rarely – or, most likely, never – can the viewer sense that they’re watching a fiction film and not a documentary. It could be argued that in certain cases, making a documentary-like fiction feature achieves the goal of remaining as believable as possible, without having to compromise on a non-fictional format.

All in all, the real strength of Milk Teeth stems from its heartfelt performances and the tenderness of its direction, together with its historical relevance, all woven together with a touching personal story. While the narrative is firmly rooted in Romania and carries the weight of a specific cultural and political background, its emotional core can be felt and understood by a worldwide audience. This ability to make the story and the political and social context intelligible and accessible allows Mincan’s effort to appeal to and move potentially anyone who watches it, without the need for them to identify with it specifically.

Milk Teeth was produced by Romania’s deFilm, France’s Remora Films, Denmark’s Ström Pictures, Greece’s Studio Bauhaus and Bulgaria’s Screening Emotions. It is sold internationally by Cercamon.