Manoel
Gusmão better make good Pao de Queijo, because he is terrible father. He is
indeed a baker, which is almost stereotypical of Portuguese Brazilians in the
early 1950s. Gusmão equates the ordinary with the respectability he craves, but
sadly, his strict sense of propriety will have tragic consequences for his
daughters in Karim Aïnouz’s Invisible
Life, Brazil’s official international Oscar submission, which opens this
Friday in New York.
It
is 1951, before Facebook and internet searches. Euridice and her older sister
Guida are both remarkably sensitive young women, but in vastly different ways.
The former loses herself in music and aspires to a career as a classical
pianist. The latter is an unabashed romantic, who is about to abscond with her
lover, a Greek sailor. Alas, running away with a merchant seaman works out
about as well as we would expect.
When
she inevitably returns home conspicuously pregnant, Guida is turned away by her
rigid father, who deceitfully claims her sister is abroad, having accepted a
music scholarship in Austria. He intends to make a clean, irreparable break
with Guida—and he does. Of course, the older sister writes many letters to
Euridice, but they are always intercepted. Eventually, she considers her
correspondence to be more of a form of therapy than communication. Yet, the two
sisters who pine for each other’s company will continue to live in Rio, quite
oblivious to the other’s presence.
Thusly
unfolds a fable of so close, yet so far, but Aïnouz is shrewdly restrained when
it comes to staging scenes of the sisters’ near misses and almost crossed
paths. Rio is a large city and their respective corners of it are practically
different universes. Instead, this tale is one of profound and abiding irony,
in which the sister denied her birthright as a member of “respectable” society,
ultimately lives a happier life toiling on its margins, with an adoptive substitute
family.
This
all maybe sounds like one of the more socially conscious Globo evening soap
operas, but visually Invisible Life is
a feast of deep saturated color, evocative lighting, rich textures, and
lovingly crafted period trappings. This is a tactile film that puts you
physically into the kitchens, factories, and parlors of 1950s Rio. You can
almost smell the feijoada and feel the trembled breathing.
Just
as Guida’s storyline is more interesting and proactive than that of the more
passive Euridice, Julia Stockler’s performance is much livelier and more passionate
as the former than Carol Duarte’s moody and reserved portrayal of the younger sister.
Barbara Santos is also charismatically earthy as Filomena, the retired
prostitute who becomes a surrogate mother and sister to Guida.
As
their problematic father, Antonio Fonseca puts an indelible stamp on the film in
a way that is simultaneously monstrous and pathetic. Frankly, the prominent
billing for the “participation” of Fernanda Montenegro, the grand dame of
Brazilian cinema and the only Brazilian ever nominated for a best actress Oscar
somewhat overhypes her involvement, but she is still quietly devastating in her
late scenes as the elderly Euridice.
In
terms of narrative, you could say not much really happens during the film, just
the Gusmão sisters’ entire lives. In fact, their separation and yearning hits a
deep archetypal nerve, but the film really gets its power from Helene Louvart’s
dreamy cinematography. This is the sort of film you let yourself sink into. Aïnouz’s
somewhat languid sense of pacing quite suits its neon and gossamer visual style.
Surprisingly, it has a rather Euro vibe and sensibility, despite being so
deeply rooted in its Brazilian setting. Highly recommended, Invisible Life opens
this Friday (12/20) in New York, at Film Forum.