The Romanian-Italian dark comedy “Catane,” written and directed by visual artist and transmedia filmmaker Ioana Mischie, competed in the International Competition of the 43rd Fajr International Film Festival. Inspired by a true story, the film is set in a remote Romanian village whose inhabitants collectively declare themselves disabled to evade crushing taxes – transforming an act of collective deception into a sharp, witty, and poetic critique of bureaucratic absurdity.
A Fulbright alumna of the USC School of Cinematic Arts and a Summa Cum Laude PhD graduate of UNATC Bucharest, Mischie is recognised for her work across cinema, virtual reality, and immersive storytelling, with projects screened at over 250 international festivals.
Starring Costel Cascaval, Iulia Lumanare, Cristian Bota, Mihai Malaimare, and Mihai Dinvale, “Catane” showcases Mischie’s distinctive visual signature. In this interview, she discusses the film’s dark humor, its rigorously aesthetic compositions, sustainable production practices, and its growing festival journey.
Your film is built on atmosphere and dark comedy. Could you elaborate on that and also on the aesthetic direction?
Thank you—I’m delighted to talk about it. At its core, “Catane” is a dark comedy drawn from an outrageous true story: an entire Romanian village declares itself disabled to avoid taxation. Atmosphere is everything—a dense, absurd tension that gathers like a storm over the hills. The humor is both hilarious and heartbreaking. Picture a panicked community, led by the mayor and the local medical assistant, desperately trying to fool a team of inspectors. The darkness stems from real systemic failures—poverty and bureaucratic madness—while the comedy arises from the villagers’ wildly inventive, almost heroic schemes. We laugh because their desperation is so profoundly human.
As for the aesthetic direction, we pursued rigorously composed, tableau-like shots that form the film’s stylistic spine. Each frame is designed like a living painting, deliberately suspended in time. We refused to anchor the story to any specific era; “Catane” could exist today, tomorrow, or in a timeless rural limbo.
My extraordinary cinematographer, George Dăscălescu, and I were obsessive about this choice. The aesthetic stillness allows the absurdity to breathe. By holding on to characters in the midst of chaos, the frame lets faces, gestures, and the environment carry the dramatic weight. It feels like Wes Anderson colliding with Yorgos Lanthimos, yet firmly rooted in Eastern European grit. There are no restless camera movements—only deliberate pauses that invite the audience to lean in and feel the full weight of the farce.
You mentioned the film speaks to multiple generations through unity amid differences. How does the aesthetic texture support that?
That intergenerational bond is the beating heart of “Catane.” This is a true ensemble piece featuring characters from every corner of village life: the cunning mayor, wide-eyed children, weathered elders, and even the bewildered inspectors. At its center lies unity forged in absurdity—differences don’t divide; they spark the richest comedy and the deepest humanity. Grandparents teach grandchildren how to limp convincingly; young people roll their eyes yet join the masquerade.
The rigorous aesthetic texture reinforces this beautifully. Each composed frame becomes a layered canvas where every face, object, and shadow carries significance. Beyond visual impact, it pays homage to the rough, vivid, unhurried texture of real rural lives.
One of the film’s most striking commitments is its radical devotion to sustainable production practices.
Absolutely—sustainability was not a marketing tagline; it was the very soul of how we made the film. We repurposed everything: abandoned carts became set pieces, forgotten fabrics from attics dressed our actors, and all materials were sourced within a 50-km radius. The crew ate from village gardens; after wrap we planted trees and left the location better than we found it. Eighty percent of roles went to local non-actors, we ran workshops for children, and part of the elderly actors’ fees was converted into pension support. A percentage of future festival earnings will fund a community center in the village. This is cinema rebelling against waste and exploitation—proof that filmmaking can uplift the places and people it portrays.
Tell us about your collaboration with cinematographer George Dăscălescu.
George is a magician. Our collaboration was pure creative alchemy. Together we crafted a hyper-stylized world in which every shot functions as a tableau vivant: characters arranged in absurd, painterly formations against the golden Romanian landscape. The sense of temporality was deliberate—the village feels eternal, as if this tax-dodging farce could happen again tomorrow. Color palettes were meticulously calibrated: warm earth tones clashing with the inspectors’ sterile blues, amber glows in communal moments, and sunset oranges bleeding into twilight indigo. We wanted the film to linger as a visual poem long after the credits rolled.
Who do you hope will connect with “Catane”?
My deepest wish is to build bridges. For younger audiences hungry for bold new voices, “Catane” offers a fierce, genre-bending, unapologetically Romanian ride that still speaks universally. For older viewers, seeing themselves as clever, resourceful protagonists rather than background figures feels revolutionary. In a country where pensions are modest and isolation can be crushing, our characters live vibrantly – dancing, joking, and refusing to fade. The film is a full-throated celebration of every wrinkle, every eccentric idea, and every spark of human resilience.
Lastly, a word about Romanian cinema and your festival journey.
Festivals have been the film’s launchpad. Its world premiere at IFFI Goa was electrifying, and recent nominations—including the Hollywood Music in Media Awards for Emiliano Mazzenga’s score—confirm its growing momentum. Contemporary Romanian cinema is raw, unflinching, and deeply humane; it shares cinematic DNA with masters like Asghar Farhadi—stories steeped in moral dilemma and quiet poetry born from everyday oppression. At the same time, a new generation is emerging that fearlessly blends transmedia approaches with tradition and finds humor in the darkest corners.
Being here as a female director remains a profound honor. Women are still underrepresented in main competitions, but that reality only fuels the fire. To every woman creator: trust your voice, hone your craft, and tell the stories the world has yet to hear.
My own path has included labs at Berlinale, Sundance, and Cannes, yet “Catane” began modestly as my 2011 doctoral thesis. For this festival, the process was remarkably simple—an international platform discovered the project, felt its pull, and I pressed “submit.” A FIAPF-accredited festival that consistently champions distinctive voices is the perfect home for a film like “Catane.”
