There's almost always some controversy around the Best Foreign category at the Oscars. This or that film doesn't make it in because of some minutae of the rules, and critics (and sometimes, directors and producers) howl in protest. When the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announced the nominees for the category this year, though, it was a bit different. The loudest howls of protest were not over the films excluded for various obscure rules, but over the exclusion of Romanian filmmaker Cristian Mungiu's Cannes winner, 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days (aka, "that Romanian abortion film." )

The Chicago Tribune's Michael Phillips wrote on his Talking Pictures blog recently (originally posted February 5, and rerun today) about the film's exclusion. Phillips writes that the film was third on his own Top Ten list for the year, saying, "It is a rare film indeed that shows you so much in the way of dire circumstances, yet does not exploit or cheapen the human factor." Phillips talked to Mungiu about the film for this post, and the director has some rather astute things to say about some specific decisions he made with regard to the filmmaking.

Otilia (Anamaria Marinca) and Gabita (Laura Vasiliu) are college roommates. They may live in the wintry squalor of 1987 Romania -- in the last days of Communism -- but their lives seem familiar to us despite that gigantic difference; they have exams coming up, friends and lovers, future opportunities and current challenges. They may buy their perfume on the black market, but they still buy it -- they're kids, essentially. There's school; there's the joy and effort of friendships; there's the looming reality of future mandatory military service; most pressingly, Gabita needs to have an abortion -- in a rigidly-policed state where that's been illegal for decades. Otilia is going to help her -- How could she not? -- but neither of them are prepared for what that's ultimately going to cost.

Written and directed by Cristian Mungiu, 4 Months 3 Weeks & 2 Days is the sort of film that will inspire a visceral reaction from most moviegoers -- a quick grimace, a darting look away: Wow, that sounds not-fun. And no, 4 Months 3 Weeks & 2 Days is not 'fun' -- but it's incredibly affecting, magnificently acted and superbly made; in a lot of ways, it reminded me of last year's Oscar-winner for Best Foreign Film, The Lives of Others, insofar as both depict universal challenges of human existence -- what to do about one's problems, how those difficulties can poison how we deal with others -- with the harsh realities of fascist power making those challenges even more difficult to deal with. I cannot imagine how hard it must be to decide to have an abortion and see it through in the here-and-now; watching that agonizing choice played out with additional layers of challenge -- bribes, secrecy, covert meetings and the looming possibility of jail -- is achingly painful and fraught with tension.

Despite the slot reserved for it in my personal (and beloved) "depressing Eastern European films" file, 12:08 East to Bucharest was in fact the funniest movie I saw in Toronto. The first feature from Romanian director Corneliu Porumboiu, it contains moments so hilarious they not only hurt when you experience them for the first time, but also keep the theater alive with laughter for the few minutes that follow, as everyone around you replays the scenes in their heads and finds themselves captivated again by the memories. At times, the laughter was so loud and so long that I was glad the film was in Romanian and had subtitles, because the dialogue was entirely inaudible.

Set in a small town outside of Bucharest on December 22, 2005 -- the 16th anniversary of the fall of Ceausescu -- the movie documents the efforts of Jderescu (Teodor Corban), a textile engineer/TV station owner, to assemble a panel for a live TV show on the revolution, and then to keep that show in order, once it goes on-air. When he's let down by the "prestigious" panel he'd originally lined up, Jderescu, out of desperation, digs up two last-minute guests: Manescu (Ion Sapdaru), a weary college professor who claims to have spear-headed the town's "revolution" in 1989, and Old Man Piscoci (Mircea Andreescu) who gets the call, it appears, mostly because he's old, and Jderescu happens to see a picture of him the morning of the show.

Film festivals, even those as prestigious as Toronto, are lousy with first features. Most of the time the best you can hope from them are a few films that, while not necessarily great, hint at a bright future for their creators. More often than not, the most impressive debuts (like Manolo Nieto's The Dog Pound, for example) reveal enough vision and ability that the weaknesses in the films are easy to overlook, and you're left eager to see the director's sophomore effort. On rare occasions, however, you see a film so confident and effective that it's almost frightening to consider what the director will produce once he or she gets some experience; The Way I Spent the End of the World from first-time writer-director Catalin Mitulescu is one of those revelations.

From the first shot of the film, we're drawn into a world of tremendous vitality and warmth, so powerful and convincing that everyone we see on screen is instantly a fully formed individual and fundamentally real. Set in Romania towards the end of the Ceausescu regime, The Way I Spent the End of the World depicts a few months in the life of one family as they deal with universal struggles like raising kids, finding work, and abiding by societal expectations. Daughter Eva (a forceful, magnetic Doroteea Petre) is the heart of the family: Wise and passionate, she possesses an intelligence so fierce it renders her dark beauty almost over powering. Poised on the cusp of adulthood, she expresses herself through questioning -- not necessarily because she disagrees, but as a way of spreading her wings, and exploring her impact on the world. One person Eva never questions, though, is her adored little brother Lalalilu. Ferociously played by Timotei Duma, Lalalilu is a marvelous character, filled with rambunctious, six-year-old energy and tough and perceptive beyond his years. (Duma gives such a convincing, natural performance in the role that one strongly suspects he's simply playing himself.)

You may or may not be aware of it, but Francis Ford Coppola has been quietly at work for several months on Youth Without Youth (the official site, including a short diary from Coppola, is here), his first film in eight years. Filming began in Romania last fall and, if Variety is to be believed, it was wrapped up just recently (as, logically enough, was principle photography on the planned making-of documentary), and Coppola has already begun editing the footage.

The movie, which was written by Coppola and is budgeted at only $5 million, is based on a book by Romanian author Mircea Eliade and revolves around "Professor Stancislescu, an academic forced to become a fugitive" in 1930s Bucharest. The wonderful German actor Bruno Ganz (who recently received universal acclaim for his performance as Adolf Hitler in The Downfall) stars as Stancislescu, and he's joined in multi-national cast by Brit Tim Roth and Romanians Alexandra Maria Lara and Marcel Iures. It's hoped that the movie will be theaters some time next year, but a more specific date has yet to be pinned down.