Glauber Rocha 1964 Brazil
Starring: Geraldo Del Rey, Yoná Magalhães, Maurício do Valle, Othon Bastos, Lidio Silva, Sonia Dos Humildes, Marrom
Brazil's Cinema Novo movement had its first phase in the early sixties and arguably no film typifies it more than Glauber Rocha's eerie, disturbing, ultra stylish western, Black God, White Devil, a film of contradictions if ever there was one. For example a lot of the form is reminiscent of much of Sergio Leone's work, particularly in the important role given to music, but in many ways it's also utterly different. For one, the first horse we see is rotting. There's also the fact that the main character, antiheroic as he may be, is no Man With No Name, in fact he's a cowardly ranch hand obsessed with Saint Sebastian whose Aguirre-like ambition and rapidly increasing madness leads him to join the ranks of a barbaric cult headed by a man claiming to be the saint and later to (slightly unwillingly) become part of the gang of bandits led by the raving, murderous Corisco (Lightning in Portuguese), a character who has his own issues mentally, claiming to be inhabited by the spirit of Lampião, his former partner in crime, although he may just have a split-personality (a suggestion that's made more concrete in one incredibly acted scene where half his head is framed in close up as he holds his blade vertically across his face and completely changes his voice, movements and gestures). And yet despite these traits Manoel (the main character, or is he?) rides a white horse (the traditional sign of a good guy) while the main antagonist, troubled gun-for-hire Antonio das Mortes, wears a black hat in spite of his propensity for mercy, his working for the church and the level to which he's bothered by his deeds and crimes. As he himself puts it as he collects a bounty, "It's a small price to pay to get into Hell". There's also the juxtaposition between the obvious influence of neo-realism in the sharp but shadowy gliding black and white cinematography and the essential otherworldly strangeness of the film. Even the delicate theatricality of Rocha's direction (note his placement of the characters in many scenes that appear to make them gravitate towards others they identify with), the vastness of the terrain and the bloodsoaked restlessness of the plot seem at odds as do the story's basis in truth and the operatic invention Rocha has added to it. The opening scenes in which we're introduced to Manoel also familiarise us with the droning minstrelesque songs that could or could not be happening in the time-space of the narrative. There are points where it seems they are simply being performed by Blind Man Julio, a drifter who appears throughout with his guitar, but at other times he's not on screen and their recounting of events as they unfold suggest that they could be wholly imagined, taunting Manoel, at one point with a refrain of "Your mother is dead", possibly from inside his own head. The first speaks of Manoel and Rosa (his wife) who we then see going about her work almost mechanically, remaining totally unresponsive even as her husband relays what may have been another of his hallucinations as if she's entirely sick of his delusions and can no longer make herself listen. It's only after Sebastian and Corisco arrive and the latter renames her husband Satan (a choice that obviously bothers Manoel) that she begins to come out of her shell, finally releasing her frustrations on her husband with a belt and actively taking part in the deliriously violent quest to "wash the soul of the sinners with the blood of the innocent". It's one of those films that is so rich that multiple viewings are really required to fully grasp everything Rocha gives us, from the combination of amulets, bullets, religious paraphernalia, coins and guns that comprise Corisco's costume to the variety of upsetting and stunning images - notably the messianic Sebastian's death throes atop a crucifix and Manoel's climbing of Monte Santo on his knees with a giant stone held over his head (something the actor in question Geraldo Del Rey insisted on doing for real despite Rocha's protestations and that resulted in his having to take two days off afterwards with fatigue). Religion obviously hangs heavy over the proceedings, albeit the extremes of it, and in many ways the film could be seen as a critique of spirituality and the dangers of fundamentalism but it also works as an unquestionably unique anti-Western, its tale weaved with very little in the way of the stereotypical action of the genre. It may be slightly too weird and stringent for everybody's taste but I wouldn't hesitate to recommend it for a millisecond.
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