Orfeu

Director Carlos Diegues, a participant in the Brazilian Cinema Nôvo movement of the 1960s, surely had that group's social and aesthetic vision in mind when setting out to make 1999's Orfeu. That co-operative “new wave” movement sought to free Brazilian cinema from foreign influence and reflect the country's true social and political realities. However, Cinema Nôvo more or less collapsed under the weight of its own baggage and outside political pressure before the Sixties were over. Still, nearly 40 years later, one of the best-known and honored Brazilian films ever is 1959's Black Orpheus, a modern retelling of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth set against the florid backdrop of Rio's Carnaval. Made by French director Marcel Camus, the film was an exotic and beautiful evocation of a play by poet Vinicius de Moraes. Black Orpheus won top honors that year at the Cannes and Venice film festivals; it also won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film. Diegues' new film Orfeu uses the same play as its source material but the filmmaker's goal seems to be the addition of an indigenous touch and an updating of the material to include more overt reflection of life in the slums and shantytowns of Rio. (Of course, Camus' film probably was made as a contemporary response to Jean Cocteau's seminal Orphée of 1950, thus Diegues' film fits into a tradition of modernized reworkings of classic material. Once again, those Greek myths demonstrate their timeless durability.) Anyone familiar with Black Orpheus will know the score here. Orfeu follows a very similar narrative path, however, this Orpheus is a musician who uses computers, electric instruments, rap influences, and cell phones. Instead of the story's antagonist being played by Eurydice's spurned lover, Orfeu derives its tension from a subplot concerning the neighborhood drug lord, his gang, and the police actions they incur. Despite Diegues' attempt to provide this story with a hard edge, he defeats his own purpose with his florid compositions and soft-focus backgrounds. Images project the same kind of golden glow that infuses the background of the film's key art. The story retains its inherently romantic tone, emphasized by visual devices like the 360º camera swirls that are set off by the couple's first kiss. Also problematic are the film's generally weak performances and the awkward dialogue (although, for this, we must depend on the reliability of subtitles). Even the most accomplished actors would have trouble delivering some of this movie's lines; in the mouths of these actors, the lines sound stilted and phony. One advantage to this new update is the sexual freedom the times afford. The character of Orfeo is more overtly sexual and promiscuous. Also, the music is an interesting blend of sambas, rock, and rap, and compares favorably with the memorable music by Luis Bonfa and Antonio Carlos Jobim in Black Orpheus. Diegues' camerawork during the Carnaval parades is visually delectable and appealing. All in all, though, this Brazilian import is a small curiosity, intriguing more for its failures than its accomplishments.