SPECIAL FEATURE: Film Review: Paths Of Pain















Film: Paths Of Pain
Director: Rui Simoes
Starring: Carlos Ferruira, Manuel Vicente, Fernando Maedais
Genre: Documentary
Country: Portugal

This film was screened at the Unchosen Film Festival on 19th October 2010. The event “raises awareness of human trafficking through the media of film.”

Addiction and poverty pave the Paths of Pain in documentary connoisseur Rui Simoes’ latest revelation. Appropriately completed in time for the EU’s proclaimed Year For Combating Poverty And Social Exclusion, Paths Of Pain covers three years in the life of the homeless.

Filmed in Simoes’ homeland of Portugal, a cast of alcoholics and drug addicts show film crew and audiences around the destitute world of the poor. They incessantly talk us through their lifestyles, exposing snippets of their past and discussing their philosophy on life. Simoes and friends passively remain on the other side of the lens, simply recording their findings.

Sadly, the majority of personalities appear to have resigned themselves to park benches and shop doorways. One or two have found enough motivation - or luck - to take shelter in hostels. But Helena breaks the mould completely in her seemingly endless strive to better herself. Primarily, her priority lies with art. Whilst the others are fretting over their next bottle of wine, she is searching for somewhere she can express herself with paint and a pad. As one of the more coherent interviewees, she tells us how she initially chose poverty over money, in a dialogue that tragically seems tailored to convince herself rather than us. Bitterly, she describes how she thought that a lifestyle void of fortune would bring her closer to the warmth of humanity. Then she admits her mistake...


Apart from occasional flashy editing, the one hint of artificiality in the entire documentary lies with an attempt at hope. Simoes reports local efforts to help those on the street, following vans of volunteers who clean and dress the wounds of the homeless. Strangely, they choose to work at night beneath street lamps and headlights, adding to the sense of uneasiness established by the rest of the film. Narrative may not influence documentary as much as fiction, but even so, these scenes simply do not fit and feel like an afterthought.

Although Paths Of Pain was recorded in and influenced by Portuguese society, it essentially represents any city in any country. Its theme is universal and we are all aware of it - which is why the documentary lacks originality. Shots of streets piled with make-shift beds, of weary bodies sifting through rubbish, and of dirt encrusted hands held out empty and needy introduce the film, and audiences immediately know what to expect. There are no surprises, and there is little in the way of enlightenment. It’s the same old message: homelessness is bad and we need to do something about it.

By forming relationships with each of the cast, Simoes no doubt aimed to give this message a personal twist. The openness of the interviewees is indeed remarkable, but to the point of grotesque. The hand-held camera captures it all, as one character repulsively dislodges the tar in his throat, regurgitating it onto the floor of his shabby shell of a home. Another indifferently confesses to molesting prostitutes. Dignity has no place in Paths Of Pain, and the cast make no attempt to change that.

Equally, it would seem that most of them make no attempt to change their situation. Save Helena, the lasting impression is that the characters have chosen their lifestyle. They have allowed themselves to fall into it, and now they find excuses to avoid working their way out. Their lazy vulgarity endear them to no-one and Simoes’ mission falls flat. His characters don’t help themselves so why should we? Apparently, since completion, good has come of his project, and several interviewees have taken advantage of the opportunity presented by Simoes’ publicity. This single element of surprise - the one twist that goes unpredicted by audiences - is completely missed in the film, and Simoes misses a vital point of interest for viewers. Not even a post-credit update appears.

On occasion, the camera does capture genuinely touching moments. They are genuine because they are free from the confines and clutter of intoxicated ramblings. They are touching because finally a true sense of emotion and depth is offered to the viewer. The trembling hands of Manuel as he feeds himself at his sister’s table miserably verify his addiction; the passing moment of calm that passes over Carlos’s face as he dances with a woman. The tears shed at a church service in response to the priest’s words, and the pain that creeps from the verses of a song. Whilst some of the characters are unguarded and almost boastful about their condition and their addictions, there are those that deny it, and that is touching, too. These humbling flashes of sincerity refreshingly punctuate the film, but not enough.

Of course, Paths Of Pain gets you discussing the issue of poverty, but not for anywhere near as long as it takes to raise it. There is nothing in the documentary to motivate audiences into action, and consequent reflections on the homeless are unlikely to be favourable.


Kudos should go to Simoes and his crew for the effort put into the film - who wants to spend three years following grimy addicts through dingy alleys? But, essentially, Paths Of Pain is one long interview with an alcoholic and his friends: tedious and fragmented. RS




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