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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
Film: The Portuguese Nun
Release date: 21st January 2011
Certificate: TBC
Running time: 127 mins
Director: Eugène Green
Starring: Leonor Baldaque, Francisco Mozos, Diogo Dória, Ana Moreira, Eugène Green
Genre: Drama
Studio: ICA
Format: Cinema
Country: Portugal/France
The Portuguese Nun pursues the emotional journey of Julie de Hauranne, a French actress shooting a Portuguese film in Lisbon. Beginning as a character with unsteady feet, Julie is the subject of a progressive epiphany as she realises that she has the capacity to embrace life. Despite having three previous feature films, this is director Eugene Green’s first to be distributed in the UK – and he does not disappoint. Instead, he smothers viewers with his peculiar approach to cinema, playing with unconventionality and casting actors who have a blinding capacity to project emotion through their facial expression. It is with such experimentation that the film basks in an unconcealed pretention, allowing itself to exhibit a sardonic atmosphere rather than a solemn one.
The Portuguese Nun follows Julie around a picturesque Lisbon setting as she frivolously befriends anyone she meets, unfalteringly jumping into romantic exchanges and an assortment of acquaintances. We meet a 6-year-old orphan named Vasco, a suicidal local, the supposed reincarnation of dead Portuguese king Dom Sebastião, a co-star in search of a brief love affair, and a moustached disco-dancing film director. Julie is French, but her Portuguese mother has given her the gift of language necessary for fully experiencing her brief encounter with the country’s capital.
Julie is filming a bizarre movie based on a 17th century text about a Portuguese nun who falls in love with a French sailor, starring just two actors – Julie as the nun, and Martin as the sailor. The slack filming schedule facilitates her various meetings, starting with a momentary romance between Julie and Henrique. It is intentionally stiff and deliberate; their kiss is choreographed by procedure rather than passion. Julie soon becomes intrigued by a real local nun who appears to be forever knelt in front of the altar, and, in a bold directorial move, Julie and the nun spend almost fifteen minutes discussing spiritual versus secular love, religious philosophy and the presence of God.
The film within a film becomes almost a mirror image of the narrative: Eugene Green embellishes his talents at writing and directing by also playing the part of the film’s director Dennis Verde; Julie’s role as a nun is paralleled by the presence of the authentic nun; Julie and Martin’s on-screen love scene is later re-enacted in her hotel bedroom. And then suddenly Julie is surpassing this fabricated bubble of fiction as she undergoes a long-awaited revelation, narrated over a view of calm, open sea: “my passion increases with each moment…”
The Portuguese Nun opens before the soundtrack is introduced, painting an untainted image of Lisbon’s architectural personality before romanticising the view with the sound of mournful fado guitars. The same track is later allowed within the walls of the film’s narrative in a full-length performance of ‘Esquina de Rua’ by Camané. Julie watches, mesmerised by its haunting melancholy, while the camera plays upon the intensity of emotion projected between the music and the characters. It lingers on a section of grey wall, there are leaves dancing in a circle of wind in the background - it is an early indication of the director’s abstract style.
The film is constantly silhouetted by its dedication to the awareness of acting. Dialogue is intentionally rigid and movements are conscious - everybody knows that this is a staged work of fiction. And so Green’s creative choices are in fact brilliant, displaying his refreshingly eccentric skill of highlighting everything which would normally remain hidden in conventional filmmaking. Green liberates the principles of cinematography with his idiosyncratic techniques: focusing on characters’ feet rather than their heads; using as much silence between characters as there is speech; allowing the shot to linger on the backdrop, even after all the actors have left the scene; and shooting conversations with the actors speaking directly into the camera, surpassing the boundaries of the screen and reaching into our own world.
Leonor Baldaque is adequately likeable as Julie, but the director’s obviously stylised approach eventually mutates her great performance into something tiresome and simulated. Baldaque’s sparse dialogue is compensated for by her unflinching and vast eyes, which somehow have a consistent ability to communicate everything which the director requires. But while being forced into an unnerving face-to-face intimacy with every character is initially fascinating, its novelty eventually wears off due to its frequent rather than poignant use.
In a comical attempt at reading the minds of many cynical viewers, the opening scene features the hotel concierge declaring:“I never see French films, they’re for intellectuals.” Perhaps Eugene Green is encouraging the world to give abstract French cinema a second chance. Or perhaps he is simply paving the way for the rest of his mocking script. Green himself is subtly hilarious as he plays the part of Denis Verde, laboriously articulating his vocabulary in an attempt to maintain the non-acting which makes the film so intriguingly artificial.
The Portuguese Nun spends over two hours detailing Julie’s short journey of spiritual and social progression, using understated dramatics to belittle the elite world of French cinema whilst still endorsing the idea of obscurity. What it lacks in plot development, it makes up for in quirkiness. Green allows his film to laugh at itself without smiling - there is some humour concealed within his serious French walls. Sadly the static nature of the film hinders it from having an enormous psychological impact, but its visual quality remains a romantic ode to Lisbon. NM
Green’s international acclaim has been reflected in a retrospective at the Ciné Lumière in 2007 and sell-out screenings at the London Film Festival. His works include Le Pont Des Arts (2004), Le Monde Vivant (2003) and Toutes Les Nuits (2001).
Displaying Green’s distinctive minimalist style, the film follows Julie de Hauranne (Leonor Baldaque), a young French actress whose mother is Portuguese, as she visits Lisbon for the first time. She is there to act in a film inspired by Guilleragues’ Letters Of A Portuguese Nun, an infamous 17th-century work, widely believed to be a work of epistolary fiction.
Julie becomes fascinated by a nun who prays each night at the Nossa Senhora do Monte Chapel on Graça Hill. During her stay, the young woman has a number of encounters that, at first, seem ephemeral and without consequence. But one night, after finally speaking with the nun, she glimpses her destiny and the meaning of her life.
The Portuguese Nun joins an eclectic tradition of films featuring nuns and monks: from the recent Xavier Beauvois's Of Gods And Men (2010) and Michael Whyte’s Notting Hill-based documentary No Greater Love (2009), to classics such as Powell and Pressburger's Black Narcissus (1947), Manoel de Oliveira’s The Convent (1995), Fred Zinnemann’s The Nun’s Story (1959), Ken Russell’s controversial The Devils (1971), and a section of Rossellini's neorealist epic Paisà (1946).
Film: The Portuguese Nun
Release date: 21st January 2011
Certificate: TBC
Running time: 127 mins
Director: Eugène Green
Starring: Leonor Baldaque, Francisco Mozos, Diogo Dória, Ana Moreira, Eugène Green
Genre: Drama
Studio: ICA
Format: Cinema
Country: Portugal/France
