Landlocked and forgotten, Europe’s most undiscovered nation state has only recently received a boost to its profile, largely due to a slightly discomfiting proximity to the military conflict in Ukraine. In much the same boat as the countries bordering it – Romania and Ukraine – Moldova has also suffered a chequered colonial past, much of it in the shadow of the tsarist, Soviet, and federal iterations of the Russian umbrella.

Moldova, however, has received special attention from the Kremlin as it attempts to shake off its former overlords and pin its colours to the European mast. One battlefield often witnessing the opening salvoes of a feud with Moscow over self-determination is culture, and particularly film and cinema. As the Soviet Union crumbled in 1990 and civil wars engulfed a multitude of former Soviet Socialist Republics, many governments struggling to emerge from the quagmire found that their cultural coffers had not simply been raided but had out-and-out vanished. Many culture ministries have found themselves in intractable negotiations for the return of their national gems from ‘museums’ in Saint Petersburg and Moscow – in reality, vast and secretive storage silos – with the same boilerplate being applied by Moscow throughout Eastern Europe and Central Asia. 

Unable to see any potential resolution within a reasonable timeframe, and realising that decades of Soviet mismanagement had left their contribution to cinematic history to decay in rat-infested, waterlogged basements, Moldova’s government has launched a fresh initiative to recover the entirety of its film and television archives. This mammoth task has fallen squarely on the shoulders of Valentina Iusuphodjaev, Director of the Centrul al National Cinematografiei Republica Moldova (CNC – The National Film Centre of Moldova, based in Chişinǎu, Moldova’s capital).

“There are more than 2000 titles, and they all need restoring,” Iusuphodjaev said, speaking from CNC’s HQ on Strada Columna, Chişinǎu, her attitude and outlook overworked yet determined. “The problem is this; according to the law, the CNC is responsible for national archives. But already for three years I’ve been trying to promote a governmental act that will make a legal basis for preserving them, for making a unique legal deposit, a store of national archives.” She continued, “Because it has to be concentrated, it has to be preserved in proper conditions. So, when I came here, it was one of my first steps, to make a kind of database.”

But, ever the diligent historian, Iusuphodjaev doesn’t distinguish between Russian propaganda and truly independent Moldovan titles. 

“During Soviet times there was a kind of tradition; before feature films in the cinema, they would show a so-called ‘journal’. They were shot on film, a kind of propaganda about how in that village, everything is nice with the Russian socialist system and so on. Or they were a satirical short, a kind of TV format,” Iusuphodjaev explained. “Of course, the Soviet system has to show that they have a critical attitude also to some social aspects. But it’s part of a collective memory, it’s a part of history, and it’s important how we now see these things.” 

As is often the case with cultural institutions operating in 2024, the CNC is being squeezed financially from all directions. “There are some technical problems but they  are not the main thing. The main thing is because when you promote a [governmental] act, it goes to different entities, usually ministries. The Ministry of Finance, they understand that this means some investment.”

“Right now, the archives are in four different places. And in some places, conditions are not proper at all, but in some places they are kind of a disaster,” she said. 

As talk of giving up their national sovereignty to become an autonomous region of neighbouring European Union (EU) member state, Romania, reaches fever pitch in Moldova, Iusuphodjaev has been a regular visitor to Bucharest to see exactly what EU funding might do for a national archive at such catastrophic risk. 

“First, I have been to Romania, and I asked how much [we need] to invest in the new technologies. Actually, it’s a kind of a hangar, a very light building that’s not so expensive. But first you have to take an inventory of everything, to write everything down, and what condition it’s in. We don’t have the budget for this within what they give us in one year. And this is one of the main problems.”

Iusuphodjaev’s second problem is shared by cultural guardians in a multitude of former Soviet Socialist Republics: Moscow wants to get paid. Russia, as ever, played the long game patiently and diligently. As the Velvet Revolution in Czechoslovakia rapidly spread following the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, retreating Soviet forces engaged in the wholesale pillaging of arts and culture, stripping freshly invigorated young nations of centuries of important artefacts; sculpture, books, paintings, and film.

“Everything was here until 1990, now the original materials are preserved in Moscow. So, here there are two aspects; one is good, because they are preserved in good condition. We do not have these conditions! The second aspect is that we have to negotiate to have these materials [returned].”

Moldova, much like nations across Eastern Europe, Central Asia, and the Caucasus, is now locked in a stubborn succession of dead-end bargaining campaigns with the Kremlin to approve the return of more than 100 years of history and heritage. The country, however, has been making great strides on its own accord to bring culturally relevant film and television to European screens. Moldovan names are increasingly popping up in awards lists at major festivals, with many enjoying superstar status amongst media bosses, financiers, and producers. 

Moldova’s EU aspirations may unlock much-needed funds and expertise as the CNC works to bring new projects to Chişinǎu. The EU puts a lot of importance on national heritage in regards to audio-visual work, which is, naturally, a core focus of the organization. Meanwhile, Western partners are also stepping forward to assist the CNC in their mission to preserve Moldova’s cultural identity. Via the United States Embassy in the capital, the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) gave a much-needed grant to Iusuphodjaev’s team to progress the digitisation of the archives. However, old fashioned negotiations with Moscow soon darkened the skies.

“Right now, we have Emil Loteanu, a kind of nationally valuable person here in the film history of Moldova, not only in the Soviet Union. For example, he was awarded the Special Jury Prize at San Sebastian [for “Lautarii” in 1972]. His film was sold in 250 countries. But one of his films? Actually, we have the film, but it’s in such a bad condition.”

“We had to stick parts together that were more-or-less in good condition,” Iusuphodjaev explained. “The other possibility would be to negotiate with Russia. But now, unfortunately, it’s impossible. Now you have to pay some money to get copies of the film that we need. Or even a part of it. We are in a very tense relationship [with Russia].”

The USAID grant has at least got the ball rolling, with a list of titles submitted to the government and work having begun. But it’s a slow process and the contribution arranged by the US Embassy in Chişinǎu, whilst welcome, can only save a fraction of the archives at risk of destruction. Trying to remain positive in the face of such a gargantuan task, it’s only talk of the archives’ future that sees Iusuphodjaev’s buoyant cheerfulness fade slightly. “It’s a start, but we have so much left to do and we are running out of time to do it.” Can it be done without outside help? “We try. We will always try.”