Aquarius

There’s a couple of things that I can barely spend an hour without doing. Playing scopa, a traditional Italian card game, is one of them. (I even play it on my phone if there’s no one around). Fidgeting with a guitar, if there’s one in the room, is another. (My roommates have named every single instrument we have at home, including the harmonicas.) Talking about Brazil is another. It amazes me, therefore, that I still have not written a single piece that covers that.

Here we go.

I have no idea how much you know about Brazilian film. I’ll guess that you know City of God. If I asked you for another reference you’d maybe say Central Station. Those are the ones people usually tell me they’ve seen. And don’t get me wrong, they’re both really good movies, but there’s much more. We had at some point a notable cinematic tradition in the country, but that was halted by censorship during our very own red-scare-induced military dictatorship. Political prosecution, control of the media, state-endorsed tortures and murders, pretty much all of the tropes. Not the best of times.

Today, the industry is recovering, and there are some emerging names out there going beyond the uncountable cheap copies of social slum-poverty-and-drug-traffic-related dramas.

Specifically, this post is about a little gem called Aquarius.

Kleber Mendonça Filho, the director, used to be a film critic and a journalist. At some point, he decided to pick up a camera. I’ve seen virtually everything he’s done — I won’t say I never cringed with some of his decisions, but overall his work is fantastic (particularly his shorts, with notable exceptions).

His latest film is called Aquarius (2016), and tells the story of a widow in her 60s. She is the only resident of a small building in the city of Recife who has refused to sell her apartment to a real estate company that plans to build a new residential complex where she still lives.

While it may not have been as good as Kleber’s first narrative feature (2012’s Neighboring Sounds), Aquarius has a lot of merits. It was repeatedly listed among the 10 best films of the year, even internationally, and was one the films being considered for the Palm d’Or in Cannes.

Then came politics.

Simply put, Brazil has been a mess. We had our elected president impeached in a highly controversial judicial process, and the current president (from another party) has 3% approval ratings. We also have an election coming up, and it’s safe to say that it’s been the most polarizing since our return to democracy, 30 years ago. But people never cease to disappoint. Left, right, and center cannot for the world have a rational dialogue. People literally hate each other.

Gotta love it. I do.

Kleber, in the fashion of many artists, is openly a leftist. Like half the country, he was against the impeachment. Many saw in the process leading to it similarities to the historical moment that culminated in the military coup in 1964; red scare, resentment towards the left, exacerbated nationalism, disbelief in the political system, you name it.

Welp.

Kleber, his cast, and his crew protested in Cannes, and demanded that the former Vice-President (now head of state) stepped down. Of course, that didn’t go well for them. Besides having right-wing groups calling for the boycott of the film, the new administration appointed a number of people to the commission that pick the country’s official selection for the Oscars run.

The head of the committee obviously did not pick the film.

Not only that, he never saw the film.

In fact, he publicly declared that he would not see it.

His explanation is that the crew was making irresponsible use of public money to go have a fun time at Cannes, while also throwing a political tantrum.

Which did not happen.

Kleber wrote an open letter about the subject. The money for the project came from credible sources, and was very limited; travel expenses were paid only for only for the director. Sonia Braga, the lead actress, had her expenses covered by French co-producers. The rest of the crew bought their plane tickets and accommodation on their own; they wanted to celebrate a notable achievement in Brazilian independent filmmaking, and given the circumstances, had every right to protest. Regardless of political position, that is the least one can expect in any barely decent society.

I can’t begin to say how ridiculous it is for the head of the project to have to come out and state the obvious: the film and its makers were politically prosecuted, based on one of two options: one, sheer ignorance fueled by political resentment; two, intentional manipulation of the facts. I don’t know which is worse. (I actually have a very good idea, but I won’t get into that.)

But it does seem to me that both things are weirdly fashionable these days.

Where are we headed?

Aquarius is not exactly political, but it’s provocative.

Aquarius is not a masterpiece, but it’s pretty good. And relevant, on many levels.

Aquarius could and should have had a better reception.

I hope this madness will end soon.

Over and out.