Corpo ("Body"), the feature debut of directors Rossana Foglia and Rubens Rewald, is the best Brazilian fiction I've seen in quite awhile. It's an elegantly crafted meditation on the bloody residue left behind by the military dictatorship of Brazil's past, focusing consciously on the present and those who occupy it, both living and dead.

In Corpo, bones are unearthed in an unmarked grave in present-day São Paulo along with the mysteriously preserved body of a woman who has been dead for almost 30 years. In an attempt to discover the identity of this woman, forensic doctor Artur (Leonardo Medeiros) encounters young actress Fernanda (Rejane Arruda), who has an uncanny resemblance with the cadaver. But when Artur searches through archives of prisoners during the dictatorship, he finds the dead woman shares names with Fernanda's (still alive) famous sociologist mother. Something isn't right.

Though Artur's need for the truth despite apathy or outright resistance from his peers (embodied by his boss Lara, played with relish by Chris Couto) is fairly standard in a story about crimes of the past, Corpo defies genre by resisting answers or the illusion of closure. What happened before is impossible to truly understand; what matters are the distortion and discrepencies we live with now. And yes, at the center of all this is the human body, raw, erotic, political: signs of torture and a blue ring mark the unknown cadaver, simultaneously exposing her ideology and her vanity.

Corpo is vague enough that it invites repeat viewings to really understand what happens. Thankfully there's more than enough meat on its bones to justify a closer look.

Yet another São Paulo GLBTT Pride Parade came and went! I'd have written about it sooner but a nasty bout of the flu left me unmotivated. It seems like everyone has given up trying to estimate how many people were there, but the general guess seems to be somewhere between three and five million people. That's more than the entire population of New Zealand (where my parents and sister live) or Uruguay, for example.

This was my third parade and unfortunately the event is a victim of its own success. Just a few years ago I could still dance in the street with all my friends, but last year and especially this year that has become simply impossible. It's great that the parade has gotten so much support and visibility, but the flip side is that many people who could care less about gays (or pride) now come for the huge street party it has become, getting way too drunk/drugged and causing lots of problems like fights and robbery. I'm starting to think the Feira da Vieira, a queer cultural fair that happens annually the Thursday before the parade, was more fun and manageable with the 125,000 people that went this year.

Still, I think it's important to participate in the day's activities in one way or another. This year the parade started earlier -- at noon -- in an attempt to prevent the festivities from dragging into the night. The parade starts on Avenida Paulista and then turns onto Rua da Consolação (the street I live on) and makes its way to a plaza downtown. This picture above, taken by a friend of mine, is of Consolação after the parade had already ended!

In related news, below is an interview my boyfriend and I gave with Globo the Friday before the parade:

Directed by Eduardo Escorel, O Tempo e o Lugar ("The Time and the Place") is a documentary that portrays activist Genivaldo Vieira da Silva. Inspired by three encounters between filmmaker and subject -- in 1996, 2005, and 2007 (with footage from the last two encounters resulting in the final version of the film) -- Genivaldo tells of his life that has been framed by fighting for agrarian reform in the poor, semi-arid region of the Northeast, specifically his home state of Alagoas.

What makes Genivaldo a character worth watching is his involvement in some of the defining social movements in Brazil and his choices to abandon them for a more personal type of politics. Genivaldo was a regional leader of the Landless Workers Movement, which works principally by identifying land that does not fulfill its "social function" and occupying it by force. He also received training from the Shining Path, a Maoist guerrilla organization from Peru, before starting extensive work with the Pastoral da Terra, a leftist branch of the Catholic Church formed during the 1970s as a response to the military dictatorship. He even ran for mayor of his hometown as a candidate of the Workers' Party (PT), a political party that was co-founded by current Brazilian president Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva (Lula).

In some ways, Genivaldo and Lula share similar backgrounds, as they both head-strong men from humble backgrounds that started as leaders of leftist movements. Where Genivaldo's life starts to differ from Lula's is his growing disillusionment with political power, which he comes to believe "changes nothing." He is still involved with agrarian reform but on his own terms, preferring no longer to participate in the huge organizations that influenced his past.

Genivaldo has some interesting stories to tell and his opinions are informative of broader social contexts. Yet I can't help but think that even with Genivaldo's history, O Tempo e o Lugar is not very compelling as a film. The people Escorel chose to interview are expected but not exactly inspired; he dutifully shows each of Genivaldo's family members but not all of them have something to say before the camera. Beyond serving as a lesson of Genivaldo's life seen through his own eyes and a glimpse of political life in Alagoas, I'm not sure I took much more from watching O Tempo e o Lugar.

Kátia Lessa interviewed Dhalia in April for Revista Trip (translation mine):

How did the project À Deriva come about?
I had just finished filming O Cheiro do Ralo and I wasn't sure what I was going to do. Then I had loose thoughts with no connection. Something about a girl who discovered that her dad had a lover and who saw her dad having sex with this woman. I wanted it to be a story on the beach.

Have you had some sort of similar experience in your life?
It is not an autobiographical film, but it is strongly personal. I lived on the beach for 20 years and my parents separated when I was the same age as the character, 14. It seems like a light story, but it is much deeper than it seems. It speaks of family, which is a great universal theme and this is a delicate subject for everyone. People get emotional on set. Children are involved, so... it hits home.

Dhalia goes on to say that his next film will take place in Haiti (!). Maybe he should get in touch with Jørgen Leth for some tips.

Blog da 02 Filmes has some pictures up from the first week of filming.

It feels kind of lonely around here and nothing much is happening. Where is everyone? Oh, right, Cannes. Moving on...

I don't watch the current novela on Globo, Duas Caras, but awhile back the the creator said he had written a scene with a kiss between gay couple Bernardinho (Thiago Mendonça) e Carlão (Gui Palhares) for the final episode of the series. (Novelas - soap operas - in Brazil show six nights a week in limited runs, typically about 9 months.) In the real world, a kiss between two men is no longer such a big deal. A gay wedding was recently shown on another broadcast channel, MTV Brasil shows gay kisses regularly, not to mention all the gay characters on cable. Globo, however, is frustratingly consistent and has decided to censor the Duas Caras kiss, just as it's done several times on previous novelas. The reason they gave is that their quality standards do not allow "affection and kisses between homosexuals."

I could go on and on about Globo's influence on Brazilian society. Decades back it was used by the dictatorship as a means of uniting the country. Its monopoly on Brazilian television has, until recently, seemed unstoppable. According to wikipedia, it's the fourth largest broadcaster in the world with a daily audience of 80 million people.

I'm not saying Globo is evil. Recent novelas have made great progress in avoiding the caricatures of before and portraying minorities like homosexuals in a positive light. Practically every novela these days has a few gay characters. I just get tired with the bullshit television networks pull by constantly underestimating their audiences and always playing to the status quo. Sure, some areas of Brazil are extremely conservative, but on the flip side, this country has the largest gay pride parade in the world. Something tells me Globo's power will not be threatened by a simple gay kiss (and they might earn some respect in the process).

That being said, I leave you with my two favorite novela characters ever: Bebel (Camila Pitanga) and Olavo (Wagner Moura) from Paraíso Tropical, which ended last year. Bebel, a tough-talking prostitute who always looked out for herself but had a weakness for her scheming john (Olavo), became a pop culture phenomenon. As far as novelas go, it doesn't get any better than her.

Ironically, the big winner of the 13th It's All True International Documentary Film Festival, Pan-Cinema Permanente directed by Carlos Nader, features a subject that declares, "I don't need truths! Just lies. Essential lies." That pretty much sums up poet Waly Salomão's over-the-top attitude in this film that is a loving portrait made by a dear friend. Salomão was an excessive personality who made life a performance.

As someone who had never heard of Salomão before watching this film, there are two scenes that I remember very fondly. One is footage of an interview Salomão gave on Syrian television. (Salomão's father was Syrian and he goes to the fatherland to reconnect with his relatives there.) The calm, polished demeanor of the interviewer plays at perfect odds with Salomão's eccentricity, to revealing and hilarious effect.

The other scene is a confession by the director that Salomão simply never let his guard down for the camera. The only glimpse we have of him relaxed is when he is sleeping, but even that footage is not as straight-forward as it should be. Opaque in every way, Salomão actively creates and projects his own image throughout the film.

What I loved about Pan-Cinema Permanente was that Nader lets Salomão have center stage while not one-upping him. The editing is quick and playful and the visuals, full of color, are approached in surprising ways. Watching Salomão's endless energy can feel a bit exhausting at times, but the impact of his art and life on those around him must have been a wonderful thing.

I'm amazed at how many roles Alice Braga is landing in Hollywood lately. At 25 years old, she's only starred in one Brazilian movie (Cidade Baixa), and she's foregone the traditional path to celebrity here by acting in soap operas on TV Globo (though her aunt, Sônia Braga, is a famous soap actress who once tried to make a career for herself abroad but it is probably best known to mainstream audiences as Samantha's lesbian lover on Sex and the City).

Alice's agent must be doing something right. She's currently showing in U.S. theaters in David Mamet's Redbelt, plays "the girl with dark glasses" in the Cannes-opener Blindness (reuniting with Meirelles after a bit part in City of God), and has roles alongside stars like Harrison Ford and Jude Law in two upcoming films. All of this after starring last year in the Will Smith blockbuster I Am Legend.

The only other Brazilian actor I can think of getting this level of exposure is Rodrigo Santoro, who also has a role in Redbelt. Rodrigo is actually much more famous in Brazil, due to his career in soap operas and well-regarded films like Bicho de Sete Cabeças and Abril Despedaçado ("Behind the Sun"), but I feel like he's been trying to break out internationally much longer than Alice. Ironically, Alice said in an interview last year that she wishes she could do a Brazilian soap opera but hasn't been able to find the time. I guess the grass really is greener on the other side.

Vila Madalena (and neighboring Pinheiros) is definitely one of the most fashionable areas of the city for film folk. Many production companies are based there, in addition to the Brazilian MTV headquarters. I used to live in the area, and it's see-and-be-seen for lunch at Mercearia de São Pedro or when going out at night to StudioSP (one of the go-to spots for film premiere parties).

Meanwhile, I'm hoping my current neighborhood, Consolação, will stay off the NYT's radar for awhile yet. I've lived around here for a year and a half and it's already transformed pretty shockingly in this time. All the trendy new bars and restaurants opening up are only OK as long as I can still afford a drink or two!

Last week I caught the Spanish-Mexican co-production La Zona, directed by Rodrigo Plá, which is currently in theatrical release in Brazil. I have to say, the film surpassed my expectations. I thought it would be the frustrating type of movie that starts out as a social critique but ends up becoming a messy Hollywood-wannabe-thriller that doesn't have the guts to truly finish what it started. I was pleased to find that the plot does get messy - but in a good way, sustaining its unflinching look at ugly realities while swiftly moving the story forward to some unexpected places.

La Zona takes place in a wealthy gated community in Mexico City that could easily double for an exclusive neighborhood in São Paulo. One night three boys enter this community for petty theft, but things get out of control and one of the residents gets killed. Two of the boys are found and killed, but the third stays hidden and is unable to escape the neighborhood without getting caught by homeowners hungry for "justice." Meanwhile, community leaders make every attempt to keep the police away from the scene of the crime for fear of losing control of their privileged area. Wrought with tension, La Zona has a killer premise that exposes some serious social divisions.

I have to admit that one of my motives for seeing this movie is Maribel Verdú. She doesn't even get that much screen time in La Zona but she's one of those actresses who just appeals to me - I think it has something to do with her Spanish (ie, from Spain) accent and the fact that she's somehow intimidating in every role I remember her in.

Earlier this month I caught Estômago, directed by Marcos Jorge. The film took a bunch of awards last year at the Festival do Rio and seems to have been an audience favorite wherever it has played. The story is about a seemingly naive man from the Northeast, Raimundo Nonato (played by João Miguel), who comes to São Paulo looking for work. He shows some natural talent at cooking and gets noticed by a prosperous restaurant owner, who takes him under his wing and teaches him the nuances of the finer foods. Juxtaposed with these scenes are revelations of Raimundo's jail time in the future, where he uses his culinary knowledge to ingratiate himself with his cellmates who are a little rough-around-the-edges. The film relies on the audience's desire to reconcile Raimundo's bleak future with his promising present to create suspense; on the way he falls in love with a food-obsessed prostitute who is more than willing to accept Raimundo's cooking as a form of payment.

João Miguel has made a career out of playing simple Northeasterners to perfection in Cinema, Aspirinas e Urubus, O Céu de Suely ("Love for Sale"), and now Estômago. He really carries this movie and gives it heart. Personally, I would have liked the plot fleshed out to depend less on the vicarious satisfaction of seeing people prepare and eat delicious food. Doesn't everyone love a good cook? Raimundo cooked miracles time after time, and while I watched (getting hungrier by the minute) I couldn't help but think it was a little too easy.

That said, I found Estômago entertaining if not all that original, and I enjoyed Giovanni Venosta's playful score. As this is Marcos Jorge's first feature I am now very curious to see what he will do next.

For a variety of reasons, many directors who visit São Paulo are usually intimidated by the sprawl of the city and/or are a bit paranoid about their safety - but that was not the case with Jørgen, as he has lived in Haiti for 20 years! He had also already been to Brazil before, filming scenes for his 1986 doc Moments of Play (complete with a musical score by his hero Tom Jobim).

This time around, Jørgen is in Brazil to film what he considers one of his most challenging projects yet: a documentary called The Erotic Human. It's a project he's been working on for years, and he confessed that he considered abandoning it in the heat of a scandal that involved his published memoirs in Denmark in 2005. Since then, with the encouragement of his producer Lars von Trier (who seems to have gotten over his Oedipal complex and does not want to destroy his mentor anymore... at least for the time being), Jørgen has once again taken up the project and is currently filming in Manaus (in the Amazon) with his cameraman and long-time collaborator Dan Holmberg. I'm pretty curious to see what will result.

Below is the famous "My name is Andy Warhol and I just ate a hamburger" scene from Jørgen's 66 Scenes from America.

With the combined pedigree of the director, cast (including Julianne Moore, Danny Glover, Gael García Bernal, and Mark Ruffalo), and source material, expectations for this one are high. It's O2 Filmes' biggest production yet and media attention since filming in São Paulo last year has been intense.

For those of you who read Portuguese, Fernando Meirelles has been keeping a blog about his experiences with the movie. I found this part interesting, where he explains that Miramax had reservations about the intensity of the cut he screened for them (translation mine):

"By contract, the final cut is mine, but these guys know what they're talking about and I took advantage of their expertise and my disposition to rethink once again the editing. I thought they were hypersensitive to the scenes of sexual violence and I didn't pay too much attention to their comments. Not one friend in Brazil had mentioned this problem. North Americans are more moralistic, I generalized. But nevertheless, as a good neighbor policy, I decided to lessen a little the film's voltage. A little."

By the way, you can see the movie's oddly-paced (in my opinion) trailer below:

Have you heard about Tropa de Elite? It's the most talked-about Brazilian film in years, not just for its explosive subject matter but also for its completely unprecedented journey to the big screen.

Tropa de Elite hits screens today in São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro, but according to the film's official website, the release date is (while I'm writing this) still listed as October 12 -- and until a few days ago, that was the distribution plan. But things didn't exactly go according to Universal's plan. Roughly a month ago, pirated DVDs of the film appeared on the streets of Rio and became an overnight sensation. By the time Tropa de Elite officially premiered as the opening night film of the Festival do Rio on September 20, an estimated one million copies of the film had already been sold. Due to the nature of piracy the numbers seem rather arbitrary, but a few weeks ago the popular TV program Fantástico said that three million people had seen it. I hear from my friends in Rio that how many times you've seen Tropa has become a matter of pride (you saw it twice? that's nothing!). So, in a desperate effort to actually get people to pay for a ticket to the movie, Universal made the last-minute decision to push Tropa's release date up a week, forcing movie theaters and distributors to hectically rearrange their already busy schedules.

Despite the fact that Tropa de Elite is backed by people like Harvey Weinstein - who doesn't exactly need my money - my conscience won't let me buy or watch a pirated copy of a Brazilian film, so I can't say if the hype is deserved until after this weekend. However, this is a movie I've been interested in for quite some time, namely because it's directed by José Padilha (who made the tragic documentary Bus 174) and starring one of the country's most talented actors, Wagner Moura. (In fact, the production had its fair share of drama, but I won't go into that here.) This time around, the subject matter is just as urgent as Bus 174's, centering on the training of an elite police squad before they enter battle with drug traffickers in the slums of Rio de Janeiro. The police are among the most universally loathed and untrusted people in Brazil, so narrating the film from their point of view has provoked its fair share of controversy. Pirated DVDs have made it possible for those in the slums who have their own experiences with the police to contribute heavily to the discussions surrounding Tropa de Elite.

It's been awhile since a Brazilian film has struck such a nerve. Universal may not be getting any direct profits from the pirated DVDs but they've benefited immeasurably from the endless media attention that has been given to Tropa de Elite. How many films have become blockbusters before they're even released?

Catching up (a little) on blogging... ResFest's 10th edition came and went, marking its first year at the Cinemateca Brasileira's new location in the Vila Mariana neighborhood. While it's hard to reach the place without a car (I never learned how to drive one anyway), getting there is worth the effort -- the venue is incredible, by far the most comfortable theater in the city for the cultural frenzy of a film festival. After hearing an appropriately bossa nova-themed set from ex-Cibo Matto singer Miho Hatori, I caught a session of surprisingly strong Brazilian shorts, the highlight of which (for me) was Paulo Caruso's "Alphaville d.c. 2007". The film focuses on a French-speaking cowboy (his name: "I am the third person plural. I am they.") who avenges the Third World in an infamous gated community outside of São Paulo. Bizarrely philosophical and often hilarious, it's great experimental filmmaking that manages a scathing social commentary without sacrificing entertainment.

Such upper class is, predictably, exactly what the NYT celebrates in its latest travel piece on São Paulo ("São Paulo's Concrete Jungle," by Jeffries Blackerby, and I'll be really happy if I never hear the "concrete jungle" SP cliché again). Blacerby makes an interesting point when he says that "São Paulo feels a bit like an urban artists' colony, a city that fosters pure creative expression without too much commercialism sullying the dream," but he loses me by falling back on the same incredibly elitist staples that NYT writer Dan Shaw limited himself to in his March 2006 piece. The accompanying photoshoot is stunning, but do models showing off the latest Calvin Klein collection have anything to do with what makes São Paulo unique?

Finally, the current issue of Vanity Fair has a lengthy feature on the gang violence that crippled São Paulo for a few days in May 2006, with photographs by Sebastião Salgado. No comment until I have a chance to read it.