Son bruit n'est pas celui du monde mais un enchantement tenu par une voix off qui, sans verser dans une poésie béate, pratique avec la bonne distance la mélancolie sans illusion, mais sans acrimonie aussi.
La structure du film (présent glauque, passé mythifié), la forme singulière (du cinéma muet avec bruitage et récitant) exacerbent le romantisme inattendu, font d’une œuvre très théorique une réflexion poignante sur le temps qui passe, les destins qu’on n’a pas eus, le plaisir pervers de la nostalgie – on doit appeler ça saudade, par là-bas.
Ultimately, it's one of those rare films that makes you pause in the middle and remember exactly why you love cinema.
“Tabu,” which manages to be dryly absurd and deeply romantic, begins with a surreal vignette about a widowed hunter who throws himself to the crocodiles, and perhaps comes back as one.
Playfully switching from the gloom of the present day to the warmth and perceived simplicity of life in the past, Tabu is an enthralling, lighthearted stab at a society unable to escape from imprisoning itself in a cloud of nostalgia.
Gian Luca, whose poetic voiceover dominates the movie, bemoans "the despairing impasse of my situation," a verbose complaint that Gomes complements in visual terms.
That it’s the most audacious and intricate film to be seen so far in Berlin’s competition is without question, and to some extent it’s fulfilled the same role here as did Malick’s The Tree of Life in Cannes last year.
Gomes hace exactamente eso: cine que se sabe cine; cine que, sin renunciar a la emoción, no puede por menos que narrarse a sí mismo.
La structure du film (présent glauque, passé mythifié), la forme singulière (du cinéma muet avec bruitage et récitant) exacerbent le romantisme inattendu, font d’une œuvre très théorique une réflexion poignante sur le temps qui passe, les destins qu’on n’a pas eus, le plaisir pervers de la nostalgie – on doit appeler ça saudade, par là-bas.
Ultimately, it's one of those rare films that makes you pause in the middle and remember exactly why you love cinema.
“Tabu,” which manages to be dryly absurd and deeply romantic, begins with a surreal vignette about a widowed hunter who throws himself to the crocodiles, and perhaps comes back as one.
Playfully switching from the gloom of the present day to the warmth and perceived simplicity of life in the past, Tabu is an enthralling, lighthearted stab at a society unable to escape from imprisoning itself in a cloud of nostalgia.
Gian Luca, whose poetic voiceover dominates the movie, bemoans "the despairing impasse of my situation," a verbose complaint that Gomes complements in visual terms.
That it’s the most audacious and intricate film to be seen so far in Berlin’s competition is without question, and to some extent it’s fulfilled the same role here as did Malick’s The Tree of Life in Cannes last year.
Gomes hace exactamente eso: cine que se sabe cine; cine que, sin renunciar a la emoción, no puede por menos que narrarse a sí mismo.
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