BA in Cinematography – UNATC Film School, RO
Talents Sarajevo 2014, BiH
Talent Camp Odense 2014,
DK Go Short Student Campus 2014, NL
Andreea Dobre is a director and cinematographer who proceeded to write her own stories instead of waiting for a like-minded scriptwriter to fall from the skies. She explores the limits of bonkers through experimental and poetry films, looking for ways to express characters’ inner worlds in fiction projects: after all, “this never happens in real life” is cinema’s biggest frenemy. She is a co-founder of independent film crew Three of Swords Productions.
1st draft of the script
A wealthy couple of busy career people finally gets the chance to have a quiet weekend together at home. Shortly before the grand occasion, he finds out she once got pregnant and had an abortion without even telling him. Their precious weekend is poisoned by the fact: who needs healthy communication and civilised debate when we can have passive aggression, food fights, interrogation and torture?
Attached to the project: director, producer
Looking for: co-producer
Keywords: perfect lives, relationships, power balance, violence, dark comedy, drama, magical realism
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Attached to the project: director
Looking for: co-writer, producer, co-producer
Keywords: role play, transport, social isolation, stalker, unrequited love, comedy, absurd
Forced by her corporate job to move to Bucharest, a meek small-town woman becomes increasingly obsessed with her own physicality after playing the incapacitated victim in an emergency evacuation drill at the office. Looking for a social life in wildly different worlds and yet belonging in none, she merely watches on as the hysterical city devours her.
Attached to the project: director
Looking for: producer, co-producer
Keywords: mental breakdown, corporate culture, platonic love, hook suspension, absurd
2019 BOMBOANE MENTOLATE / MINTS, fiction short (in post-production), writer/director
2018 ULTIMUL BALAUR / THE LAST DRAGON, poetry short film (in post-production), director
2018 FORMULE DE CALCUL PENTRU ARIA TRIUNGHIULUI / TO CALCULATE THE AREA OF A TRIANGLE, fiction short, writer/director/cinematographer
2016 SARAJEVO SONGS OF WOE, fiction feature by Fred Kelemen, cinematographer (hotel room scene)
2016 INSECTAR / INSECTARIUM, experimental short, writer/director/cinematographer – Bucharest ShortCut CineFest 2017: Best Experimental & Best Actor, IbizaCineFest 2017: Best Experimental, Gstaadfilm International Festival for Short Art Films 2017: Golden Cow of Gstaad Trophy
2015 SLOW BURN, fiction short, writer/director/cinematographer
2014 AN ACCUMULATION OF STIMULI, experimental/architecture short, director/cinematographer/editor
2013 MIC TRATAT DESPRE ZEUL-CORP / A SMALL TREATY ON THE GOD CALLED BODY, experimental short, director/cinematographer
INT. HIS HOME – DAY
She (18) and him (44) are in a clumsy prelude in an armchair. Bright sun shines through red curtains, painting reddish shadows into the shabby studio apartment with 70s furniture. A wall with a door and an open window connect to a balcony behind the armchair and table. Two different phones ring every now and then throughout the scene. She grabs his hand and forces it on her sternum, marking a certain spot. His hand wanders. She stops him. He widthraws and walks out to the balcony. He lights a cigarette and checks his phone. She stretches out into the open window, sneaks into his personal space, experimenting a seducing grown woman part she doesn’t yet know how to play.
What do you think? Should I get
(busy with his phone)
I don’t know, get it somewhere
He touches her here and there, suggesting alternatives.
No, not here..
Why, you think your teachers are
gonna give you hell when they see
No, it’s just that..
Then get it after you graduate.
(she is silent)
Oh, you don’t want your parents
to see it either, is it?
She widthraws. He puts out the cigarette and gets in through the window, jumping on the table by the armchair. As he jumps, he sniffs her like a preying animal, invades her, staring her into the eyes. She gets scared and widthraws further into the armchair. He jumps off the table and walks to the other side of the home, to a bookshelf wall. Not very far from him is a bed that is in fact a matress on the floor, covered in blankets and pillows. A few of her school books, notes and pens lie on the bed, next to her scarf. He sits on a lower level of drawers, pulls out a little box of mints and takes one.
Nah, don’t like them.
(just to fill the silence:)
No, I like chewing gum a lot
more. Mints are weird, I’ll have
one, then I’ll want another one,
then another one, I’ll munch on
them forever like they’re chips
or M&Ms, when in fact they have a
different purpose. With chewing
gum, what you see is what you
get, it does the job and then you
spit it out. I like to spit out
the chewing gum.
There’s other stuff you could
It takes her some time to get the joke. He bites his mint loudly and stares her down from the distance. She arranges her clothes and walks to her stuff on the bed. She hesitates. He steals her scarf and she reaches to get it back. He ducks and grabs her hand, guiding it to his crotch. She tries to free her hand, he holds it firmly in place.
See what you’ve done?
They stare into each other’s eyes for a few seconds. She frees her hands and proceeds to undo his belt.
(tries to joke but)
No, hurry, before I change my
He kisses her violently. They throw themselves onto the bed, moving higher into it as they make out, until they reach her school books. He throws them out of the way. She sulks and stops to reach them. He tries to get her back into action, but her attention is elsewhere. A ballpoint pen remains in her hand. It kills his mood. He takes a good look at her, sighs, something changes. He takes the ballpoint pen from her and starts drawing on her skin. She is in awe.
Ever heard of Swissair 111? It
was a plane that crashed into the
Atlantic Ocean in ’98. You know
what they found in the wreckage
when they pulled it out? Tens of
thousands of teeny tiny metal
balls, teeny weeny metal balls
everywhere, implanted in the
cabin, in the cockpit, in the
floor, in the machines, in
chairs, in bodies, in parts of
bodies, everywhere. And what did
the investigators think? I’ll be
damned, there was a hijacker here
shooting some improvised weapon!
But then they found out what the
plane was carrying in cargo,
’cause it had some cargo too. You
know what the plane had in the
cargo? Hmm? Teeny tiny metal
balls like these, for ballpoint
pen tips. Can you imagine the
force of the impact? All these
teeny tiny metal balls waiting to
become ballpoint pens shot
through the walls and stuck into
whatever they found. Can you
guess how many ballpoint pens
were no longer made? Hm? How much
homework could you write with all
those ballpoint pens that weren’t
made back then in ’98? How old
were you in ’98?
It kills her mood. She extracts herself from under him and sits at the edge of the bed. He sighs and lounges on the pillows. He finds his second phone under a pillow, checks his texts. He takes a look at her, then at her school books. He answers texts. She sneaks into his arms and tries to unbutton his shirt. He grabs her by the wrists and stops her.
I don’t get what you want from
Neither do I.
“I didn’t love her. I just wanted to possess her.”
The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant (1972)