Watching a pensioner vomit blood into his slippers might not be everyone's idea of a Friday night at the flicks, but stay with The Death Of Mr Lazarescu. Allow Cristi Puiu's Bucharest-set odyssey to shuffle its way through the entire two-and-a-half hours of its magisterially mournful funeral parade and you'll be rewarded with the sight of our eponymous zero pissing, then shitting, his pants.
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