Pele: Birth of a legend — to ginga or not to ginga?
When I first read about the release of Pele: Birth of a Legend, what first drew me was not so much about the subject matter of the movie itself, but that this was a production by the Zimbalist brothers — Michael and Jeff. The pair had earlier brought out The Two Escobars (a precursor of sorts to Narcos), one of the best sports documentaries I’ve seen. Then with the acclaimed Favela Rising, it was clear that South American culture was a milieu they loved tapping in to, so with football back on the menu, it was hard to ignore. Did it live up to expectations? More on that later.
The film never positioned itself as a comprehensive biopic on Pele. As the title itself hints, it focuses on the making of one of the greatest footballers in history, sticking to eight years of his life, from 1950 to his heroics in the 1958 World Cup in Sweden. A feel-good movie on Brazilian football could have soothed the wounds — even temporarily — of their humiliating 7–1 defeat at home in the 2014 World Cup semi-final, but the timing of this release suggests at rousing patriotic sentiments ahead of the Rio Olympics this year. After the debacle of Belo Horizonte, it seemed like fans had seen the worst. A much older generation, though, might have a different viewpoint on that.
Rewind to 1950, where the story begins. A young Edson Arantes do Nascimento, growing up in the slums of Bauru near Sao Paulo, watches his dad and other grown men driven to tears after Brazil surrendered the 1950 World Cup to Uruguay at the Maracana. A highly expectant nation had plunged into an emotional recession they never thought they could recover from. The boy promises his dad that he would win the World Cup for Brazil, and erase the gloom of Maracanazo. He would do it, eight years later, but to achieve that, both Pele and the Brazilian football system itself had to deal with the dilemma of “ginga”.
Ginga, the acrobatic style of play that defined Pele’s genius and made the Brazilian style unique, had the capacity to make or break the team’s results. Many blamed that style for the loss in 1950, and it seemed that the nation had taken a vow never to embrace it and instead follow the European style that was more structured, organised — effective but less appealing. A young Pele, playing without shoes in a local tournament, impresses a scout with his pyrotechnics, and gets an invitation to try for Santos football club. Perhaps ginga wasn’t dead and buried yet.
To some coaches though, it was, and the edgy relationship with ginga — cruelly dubbed a “primitive” style — nearly drove Pele away from the game. Encourage it or bin it? That question evoked volatile reactions from coaches, still reeling from the ghosts of ’50. When Pele was forced to comply with a more regimented style, he looked a fish out of water. When he adopted a devil-may-care attitude and played the way he knew best, he was a player transformed. The rebel in Pele translated into results, and the Brazil of the old was back.
Cut to the present and Brazil, eerily, finds itself in a similar scenario. Their flamboyant style of play has given way to the European style, a trend blamed on the exodus of several talented South Americans in their formative years to more lucrative clubs in Europe. The last time a Latin American team won a World Cup was back in 2002, by Brazil. Argentina came close to reversing the trend in 2014, but Messi couldn’t recreate his Barcelona magic that night at the Maracana.
The film has been panned for its lack of depth and I presume those are the sentiments of more discerning football fans who watched it with higher expectations. With the Zimbalists, a slick production is guaranteed, at least to compensate for holes in the screenplay or script. The match scenes take the viewer on a virtual, pitch-side ride. However, a factor that could have turned off many was the choice of language. Portugese with English subtitles would have given a more authentic touch.
A biopic of Pele and his life post retirement would be worth another major project. Award-winning documentary filmmaker Asif Kapadia is working on one for Diego Maradona. Pele, as I see it, was aimed at initiating a non-football audience into the culture and see-saw world of Brazilian football.
For those still reeling after 7–1, it’s an anti-depressant at best.
