FANTASIA OBSCURA: Myths, Magic and Tragic Romance at the Rio Carnival
There are some fantasy, science fiction, and horror films that not every fan has caught. Not every film ever made has been seen by the audience that lives for such fare. Some of these deserve another look, because sometimes not every film should remain obscure.
Sometimes, it’s hard to tell which was better, the destination or the trip there…
Black Orpheus (1959)
Distributed by: Lopert Films (in US)
Directed by: Marcel Camus
We‘ve seen genre works try and add a fantastic element to established pieces. We’ve witnessed how The Tempest was re-rendered as Forbidden Planet, and how The Seven Samurai fared when it was re-imagined as Battle Beyond the Stars.
So why shouldn’t we see works going in the other direction, from being ensconced in genre to somewhat more mundane settings…?
We should note, though, that while this retelling of The Orphic Hymn is set in a more accessible place and time, it’s not entirely devoid of any genre elements. There’s plenty of magical realism that comes into the film, which while not apparent as the credits unspool, is suggested by scenes set in the Morro de Bablionia favela preparing for the upcoming Carnival, during which time we watch a fantastic cast exhume with magic of their own, producing a marvelous cinematic Feijoada as actors and setting work well off each other before our eyes.
After watching Serafina (Lea Garcia in her first credited role) ominously watch a kite in the shape of the sun fall to earth below the horizon, we get introduced to her cousin, Eurydice (Marpessa Dawn), making her way on the ferry over. She’s lost in the big city, which as Carnival approaches is even more chaotic.
Luckily for her, she is swept off her feet by the passengers of the streetcar driven by Orpheus (Breno Mello, whose first role this was as part of a sideline he’d occasionally take up when not playing professional soccer), and destiny starts to take its hand with these two:
At first, Orpheus only notes her in passing. Which is good for him, as his fiancé Mira (Lourdes di Oliveria, in the first of her only two film credits) is incredibly jealous, which we gather as she explodes in anger numerous times when she thinks he may be seeing someone else. And at first he’s not actively after her; he’s more concerned with getting his guitar out of hoc before Carnival begins than anything else.
But, soon, Orpheus realizes that the gentle Eurydice may be a better person to be with than the demanding and exploitative Mira, and the two fated lovers start to get closer to each other. It gets such that Orpheus wants her in the parade the next day, though during their preparations we find out why Eurydice ran to her cousin in Babilonia in the first place:
We never learn the name of or get a good look at the face of the man who is dressed as Death (Adhemar da Silva, in his sole acting credit, preferring instead to concentrate on the triple jump, which earned him gold for Brazil at Helsinki and Melbourne). It’s enough that he wants Eurydice dead, and succeeds in that while the Carnival is in full swing.
This leads Orpheus on a quest to try and bring her back to the land of the living, which includes encounters with the police as they try and close down the festivities once midnight has struck, and a trip to a voodoo temple where he’s offered a faint hope of finding her, if he keeps his eyes closed:
The story flows the plot of the source material fairly well, managing to weave in elements of magical realism over and above name-checking characters from the original. Death’s ability to pursue his prey and slip out without being caught gives him a power set that would not be out of place for an antagonist in a horror film, and the voodoo practitioners add considerable other-worldliness to the proceedings.
Greatly aiding the sense of magic, though, is the general atmosphere of Carnival in Rio. The sights and sounds of the festival would be evocative enough without needing any genre elements added to the mix, and is expertly captures by the film crew who actively inhabit the scene.
In the case of director Camus, he could claim to have been especially ensconced in the project. Running out of money, sleeping on sidewalks to save on costs, and down to only 17 dollars before a personal intervention in the project by Brazilian President Juscelino Kubitschek, his firsthand experience with the streets of Rio where he would shoot gives the film an intimacy it might not have otherwise had. We feel and breathe the scenes because of this closeness, and when events and turns take place that cannot be logically explained, we feel deeper the sense of magic that comes through at those times.
Saying “the magic of Rio,” in describing this film, is not out of place, as for many audiences who saw this, for whom this was their first encounter with Brazil’s largest city, this magic made them fall in love with the film. It was a commercial success, and winner of the Palme d’Or at Cannes in 1959 and Best Foreign Language Film at the 1960 Academy Awards. It not only introduced Rio to the world, it helped popularize bossa nova and raised the profile for Tom Jobim.
The film, in addition to its other accomplishments, gives us a model for putting our myths and folk tales into the here and now with us. It doesn’t need to be as flashy as more modern “Urban Fantasy” works would end up, as we see here how far just a little magic will take us.
Of course, a killer Carnival dance beat helps, too…
NEXT TIME: Their love could never die. Nor could they after they got stabbed, nor for that matter their film, despite its producers’ neglect…
