Film Review: THE WHISTLERS (2019): A Convoluted Crime Thriller That Can Still Carry A Tune

The Whistlers Review

The Whistlers (2019) Film Review, a movie directed by Corneliu Porumboiu, and starring Vlad Ivanov, Catrinel Marlon, Rodica Lazar, Agustí Villaronga, Sabin Tambrea, István Téglás, Cristóbal Pinto, Antonio Buíl, George Pistereanu, David Agranov, Sergiu Costache, and Andrew A. Popescu.

If crime doesn’t pay, then how else do we get rich quick? Bad business deals? Hard work? Patience?? Ugh, no thanks.

The Whistlers, the new film from Corneliu Porumboiu, is a metaphorical compromise of literary riches in its time-share-like presentation: high rewards for momentary restraint, but with potential for confusion if you don’t follow the fine print.

Told through a rearranged series of vignettes, The Whistlers primarily follows Romanian narcotics director Cristi (portrayed by Ivanov, who keeps up with his stoically intimidating [though not nearly as cruel] tradition à la 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days). We soon learn that Cristi is playing both sides of the criminal field: keeping his detective job for general immunity while utilizing his insider status to give heads-up to criminal enterprises – particularly his longtime friend and associate Zsolt (Tambrea), who’s currently involved in a lucrative money laundering scheme.

However, when the scheme goes awry and information leaks early, Cristi finds himself tangled among all the interconnecting threads with his department’s ruthless lead (Lazar) who suspects his every move, a mob boss (Villaronga) who wants Zsolt’s head, and Zsolt’s lover Gilda (Marlon) with her own mysterious motives. Juggling the roles of cop, confidante, and co-conspirator, Cristi is left to bumble his way out of an increasingly complex mess before he ends up losing his own head to it.

It’s easy to draw comparisons between The Whistlers and the contemporary American crime thrillers that serve as inspiration. There are echoes of Scorsesean mob dramas with the double-crosses upon double-crosses, but what’s most recognizable is the Tarantino-like fractured narratives delineated by character-centric sequences (or at the very least the same appropriately labeled title cards). However, Porumboiu doesn’t lean into violence as a stylistic crutch, and he doesn’t derive his humor from flowery dialogue and pop culture references. Rather, whatever humor in here (that is, if any of the crime procedurals and mobster dealings of The Whistlers could be described as “funny”) comes directly from the convolution of Porumboiu’s construction.

The disheveled but rapid-fire order of the narrative sequences, which are all loaded with their own separate reveals and info dumps, becomes so overwhelming as they unfold we can’t help but laugh as a release valve for our own discombobulation. The mystery is less a puzzle to solve than it is a marathon with which to keep up, and it can be a chore to do so. For a film with an otherwise economic runtime of 97 minutes, that’s saying something.

Though what keeps it particularly hilarious is the disloyalty of all the players (particularly Cristi and Gilda) because it’s ultimately so ironic. Their functionality runs counter to our cultural understandings of how criminal networks and law enforcement support themselves, and their ineptitude shows nothing more than the shallowness behind the veil of brute strength. The Whistlers isn’t aggressive in its moral emptiness to the point of being fatalistic, but rather to the point of being extremely misanthropic. The primary moral is how a complete lack of trust is ultimately beneficial to no one. And honestly, that is kind of funny…if only in a distressing sort of way.

Regardless The Whistlers is still a wild ride, and it has a lot of flair to boost its playfully cynical tone. The whistling language, or el silbo, is not just a clever plot point but a fascinating evolution in the coded messaging aspect of spy narratives. It comes in and out of the story at uneven intervals, but the focus on the monotony of Cristi having to learn it in the first place – as well as its function in the film’s dark climax – is quite the sight – er…sound to behold. Such meticulousness of behind-the-curtain functionality deserves its place next to the technical intricacies of Jean-Pierre Melville’s Army of Darkness, another classic tale of coded messaging and resistance espionage. 

Mircea’s camerawork captures the beautiful vistas of the Canary Islands and cleverly utilizes minimal light sources for a natural yet heightened effect. It plays into Porumboiu’s limited use of on-screen violence by adding a false sense of security via comfortable surroundings: we know – or at least feel – that things will eventually turn sour, but these tranquil sights make us hope that they won’t, and they only add to the swelling suspense – after all, we don’t want the beautiful views to be ruined, now do we? The astute music supervision and the timely needle drops also keep up the pace…maybe even too well. (Though it is hard to argue against an Iggy Pop opener.)

The Whistlers is an engrossing but trying crime thriller that’s as rich in rewards as it is frustrations. For those willing to endure its jarring screeches, there are some dulcet, dark tones underneath.

Rating: 7/10

Leave your thoughts on this The Whistlers review and the film below in the comments section. Readers seeking to support this type of content can visit our Patreon Page and become one of FilmBook’s patrons. Readers seeking more film reviews can visit our Movie Review Page and our Movie Review Twitter Page. Want up-to-the-minute notifications? FilmBook staff members publish articles by Email, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest, and Flipboard.