Elis
Regina was only the second vocalist to record “Waters of March.” The first and
third were its composer, Antonio Carlos Jobim, who initially cut the classic
bossa tune on a very rare and collectible promotional EP. Regina was the first
to bring the song to a popular audience—and did she ever. She also introduced
songs by Edu Lobo, Vinícius Moraes, Chico Baurque, Ivan Lins, and Milton
Nascimento. Many consider her the greatest Brazilian vocalist of all time, so
who are we to disagree? Regina’s short but dramatic life gets the musical bio-pic
treatment in Hugo Prata’s Elis (trailer here), which screens this
Friday as part of the Music+Film: Brazil series.
Born
Elis Regina Carvalho Costa, she often went by just plain Elis and released several
confusingly eponymously single-named albums. She had the misfortune of arriving
on the scene shortly after the military putsch put on chill on recordings
sessions, but her talent would not be denied. Initially, she was a country naïf
from the south, who sure could sing, but under the tutelage of producer/impresario
Ronaldo Bôscoli, she incorporated seductive elements into her stage
presentation. It worked so well, he became her first husband. Jazz
musician-arranger César Camargo Mariano would be her second, longer tenured
spouse.
“Elis”
took pride in her success, cannily reflecting shifts in tastes, in a manner somewhat
similar to Miles Davis. She sang samba, bossa, BPM, and even rock. Frankly, her
popularity kept her out of prison, but the increasingly radicalized singer would
be ironically slammed by the left when she agreed to perform at a ceremony for
the military junta. Her attempts to re-establish her dissident credentials
essentially constitute the film’s climax, but there is another twenty-minutes or
so of the grouchy, self-destructive Elis, who isn’t much fun to spend time
with. Alas, such are pitfalls of biography-based films, which are often locked
into not especially cinematic conclusions, because that is the historical
reality.
Andréia
Horta is sensational as the legendary singer. Generally, she is a good likeness,
except maybe slightly less earthy and more glamorous. She certainly never
waters down the subject’s less edifying moments either, making both the film
and performance surprisingly balanced. Likewise, Gustavo Machado clearly has no
reservations when it comes to making husband #1 look like a jerkweed, while
Caco Ciocler gives the film some soul and an accessible audience vantage point
as husband #2.
Of
course, the music is sounds terrific (even though “Waters of March” is largely glossed
over). Somewhat counter-intuitively, Mariano’s Som Trés piano trio rendition of
“Samblues” has particularly prominent placement, but it is an infectious showcase
for his dazzling chops, so why not?
Biographical
dramas about musicians usually follow a familiar trajectory, which is indeed
the case with Elis. There is the
early explosion of success, the mid-career struggle with inner demons, and
finally the redemptive third act that is eventually cut short by physical or
emotional baggage rooted in the second stage. Such is true of Elis too, but the redemptive part is
shorter than typical. Yet, the facts are the facts. Fortunately, the music is
also the music—and Prata shrewdly keeps the film fully stocked with classic
tunes by Regina and her contemporaries. Recommended for fans of all genres of
Brazilian music, Elis screens this
Friday (12/15) at Symphony Space, as part of Music+Film: Brazil.
