The Brazilian badlands of 1910
are the setting of Walter Salles' stunning new film Behind
the Sun (Abril Despedaçado), another Oscar-caliber entry from
the director of Central
Station. Veteran producer Arthur Cohn, cinematographer Walter
Carvalho, and a good many other crew and some cast members return
for another spiritual South American journey of brutish discovery.
Carvalho's intoxicating cinematography compliments Salles'
disturbing tale of a Hatfield-McCoy dispute between two warring
families, and one son's plight to break free of the social demons
that have decimated their family trees and rotted its roots. Nothing
good comes of the revenge-filled situation -- much like the
decades-old battle between the Arabs and Israelis in the Middle East
-- and casualties, albeit limited in their demand, are expected.
This viciously simple calendar of predictable murder is based on the
changing color of a blood-stained shirt blowing in the wind; each
succeeding mortal payback follows a strict ritual timetable. Sure
it's disturbing, especially watching the film through today's more
civilized eyes, praying that this mesmerizing microcosm of man's
futility might recognize the need to switch from its
"eye-for-an-eye" destructive mentality to a more
enlightening "enough is enough."
Salles, who read the underlying
novel by Albanian author Ismael Kadaré in the award-winning
aftermath of Central Station's release, became obsessed in adapting the book to
the screen (and switching the cultural backdrop from Europe to his
native Brazil), forcing other commitments to drop along the
production roadside. In the move across an ocean, Salles borrowed
amply from the ancient Greek tragedies, especially the work of
Aeschylus, in broadening the families' misfortunes into a fable
involving the closely knit relationship of two brothers searching
for hope amid the cultural chaos.
In the darkness that begins the
film, the silhouette of a ten-year-old "kid" (Ravi Ramos
Lacerda) walks the countryside, announcing in his narration that he
has finally been given a name, Pacu, the only gift he has probably
ever received in a dreary life spent working with a spiteful,
iron-fisted father (José Dumont),
soft-spoken mother (Rita Assemany) and twenty-year-old brother/best
friend Tonho (Rodrigo Santoro) forever growing, cutting, and
crushing sugar cane in a desolate region of the country, far from
the industrial revolution -- "in the middle of nowhere, behind
the sun."
The
harshness of the days segue into several nightmarish visions that
reveal the senseless, death-before-dishonor of Inácio Breves (Caio
Junqueira), the oldest brother, at the hands of the feuding Ferreira
family. The reluctant realization of an unbroken chain of death
drags Pacu and Tonho into a depressing spiral that they recognize
will permanently destroy their previous relationship. As the
neighboring Ferreira clan mourns the ensuing Breves' retribution --
wherein Salles prolongs the double agony of death from both sides as
a mortally wounded member of the Ferreira family, a dutiful father,
crawls through the dust toward a horrified Tonho -- the Ferreira
patriarch calls a unenthusiastic (at least to the rest of his kin)
month-long truce.
As the
noose tightens around his neck, Tonho discovers love in Clara
(Flavia Marco Antonio, a member of the Picolino School of Circus
Arts), a striking young fire eater and sideshow artiste
who travels into a nearby town to entertain the locals. Her
relationship with Salustiano (Luiz Carlos Vasconcelos), a
co-performer, proves mysterious to the Breves brothers, both smitten
by her beauty, adding a sensuous edge to the second half of the
film. She ultimately provides the key to salvation, to breaking the
cycle of death, symbolically reflected in a black armband worn by
Tonho that proclaims him a marked man.
Review by Elias Savada · Nitrate Online
