If there is one thing you can say for 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days, this year’s Palme d’Or winner at Cannes, it's that there's no debating the film’s effectiveness in recreating the living hell of obtaining an illegal abortion in late '80s Romania. Still up for debate, however, is why someone would feel compelled to make this film — and why an audience should force themselves to endure this truly disturbing piece of work. As bleak, anxiety-inducing and horrific as any movie I’ve ever seen, Cristian Mungiu’s grim procedural only adds tension with its interminable long shots, and doesn’t allow the viewer a single moment of relief. In a strange sense, that's a compliment, since tension is clearly the film’s intent. The performances, especially from Anamaria Marincaare, are admirable in their authenticity and complete disregard for vanity. But because of the desolation and utter joylessness at this film’s heart, I can’t remember feeling more relieved to see a credit sequence since Gaspar Noe’s Irreversible. The last line of the film translates to, "This is what we're going to do: we're never going to talk about this again." I'm guessing there are more than a few audience members who feel exactly the same way. — Bryan Whitefield