Film: Eccentricities Of A Blonde-haired Girl
Year of production: 2009
UK Release date: 13th June 2011
Distributor: New Wave
Certificate: U
Running time: 64 mins
Director: Manoel de Oliveira
Starring: Ricardo Trepa, Catarina Wallenstein, Diogo Doria, Julia Buisel, Leonor Silveira
Genre: Drama/Romance
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Portugal/Spain/France
Language: Portuguese
Review by: Rob Markham
What would happen if you were to combine a story by one of Portugal’s greatest realist writers, Ęca de Queiroz, with the directing talents of Manoel de Oliveira, one of Portugal’s most celebrated filmmakers, and at 102 years of age, supposedly the oldest active director in the world? In answer to that question is Eccentricities Of A Blonde-haired Girl, an almost short story-like film that reminds us of the importance of the director and technique in storytelling.
On a train from Lisbon to the Algarve, Macário strikes up a conversation with a stranger, desperate to be rid of the story that plagues him.
He describes the moment he fell in love with a stranger while looking out of his office window. Across the street, he sees a beautiful girl with a Chinese fan. The two meet each other’s gaze and Macário falls hopelessly in love with her.
When his uncle refuses to give permission for him to marry the girl, Luísa, Macário embarks on a journey to earn enough money to marry the girl, and his life is thrown into turmoil. He faces unemployment, poverty and humiliation to be with the woman he loves. But is the woman he loves all she appears to be?
Eccentricities Of A Blonde-haired Girl is strange in the fact that nothing really happens. The drama unfolds so slowly and with little ceremony - just as you would expect from an everyman relating a story to a stranger - that it’s difficult to tell whether something monumental has happened to the characters. With a running time of little over an hour, this is hardly noticeable, and throughout we are able to watch a master director utilising the camera to create a slow but emotive film.
De Oliveira’s shots linger on a scene before the characters enter and remain static when they have left, showing the world does not revolve around these two ‘lovers’, and that they are merely characters in a story. His camera barely moves and the static shots create an awkward feel that perfectly mirrors the awkwardness felt by Macário. From the painfully repetitive opening shot of a ticket inspector on a train to the repeated shots of Lisbon in various states of weather and time of day, de Oliveira is unafraid to use the camera to remind us that we are watching characters in real situations, but that they are just characters - and this is just a film.
This has its draw backs. As a piece of cinema, it is not the most exciting thing you are likely to watch, and it will not play with the senses to create atmosphere or tension. Instead, it unfolds leisurely, and rather than building to a climax, the ending just happens. Perhaps this is apt, as it is not a story filled with fireworks and dangerous romance. It is simply a story told reflectively by someone who comes across as a bit of a loser, all things considered.
In terms of character, Macário never really convinces as a romantic; however, this does feel intentional. In actual fact, he comes off as rather creepy, at times. His staring at Luisa through the window, hiding behind a document, or descending the stairs to simply watch her in the shop for which he is an accountant, does not remind us of the typical moves of a Lothario. Rightly so, as Macário is not a romantic hero, he is weak and desperate, unafraid to cry and appear slightly pathetic, and with a lost expression for nearly the entire film.
Luísa, on the other hand, with her fan and her smile, is almost an archetypal femme fatale. She would not be out of place in a film noir, dragging some poor PI into a shady world of manipulation and confidence tricks, such are the unexplored depths of her character. She is the vessel into which Macário pours all his hopes and dreams of the ideal woman, without ever bothering to get to know her. It is one of the least romantic set-ups you’re likely to see. And that’s the point.
The performances all seem highly stylised and work well with the style of filmmaking. Ricardo Trêpa as Macário is suitably innocent and weak for the most part, learning too late, and with some justified anger, that you cannot rush into love blindly. Catarina Wallenstein is equally good as Luisa, her teasing expression and her look of innocence in the face of the facts is convincing and ambiguous. She leaves us feeling a little like Macário: angry, confused, but still with affection.
The short running time means the leisurely pace can be forgiven, and there will be little chance of boredom, but the character’s actions, limited locations, and a very noticeable lack of editing do not make for the most interesting visual experience. But what do you expect from a director at 102 years of age? Aesthetic dynamism is not the goal here. What we’re left with is a short story (it is an adaptation of one after all) that transports us into a theatrical world where love is instantaneous and never quite what it seems. The result is not outstanding, but it will leave you feeling like you’ve witnessed a true filmmaker doing what he does best.
It’s refreshing to see something that doesn’t strive for themes and motifs beyond its reach and instead focuses on simply telling a story. There is little to sink one’s teeth into, but that isn’t the point of the film. With some superbly emotive visual techniques, it is a nice film to watch, but it won’t blow your hair back, or knock your socks off, or do anything other than charm you. RM
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