Produced and directed by Andrucha Waddington from a script written by Elena Soárez, "The House of Sand" may have intended to showcase two strong actresses playing a family of strong women, but it is nature, namely the sand dunes of Maranhao, that have the star turn in this film.
Waddington's real life wife, Fernanda Torres, and her mother, Fernanda Montenegro, star as the four female leads. That's right. They play two sets of a mother and daughter. The film opens with a multitude of extreme long shots, offering a bird's-eye-view of the desolate landscape his heroines live on from 1910 to 1969. The opening shots are only the overture of the scenery to come. The viewer will find that the film's most important character may very well be the rolling sand dunes. The reoccurring metaphor of the film--the effect that swarming sands and occasional flooding water has on a small home in the middle of nowhere, Brazil-- will stay with you long after the melodrama of this feminist parable fades.
After the extraordinary opening defining the landscape of the film, we are introduced to a pregnant Aurea (Torres) and her mother, Dona Maria (Montenegro). These women were forced to leave civilization by Aurea's tyrannical husband Vasco (Ruy Guerra, in a small performance on par with Klaus Kinski circa "Fitzcarraldo") who essentially bought Aurea from debtors then used the rest of his money to purchase a piece of land in the middle of nowhere. Once they arrive on the property, they find they must share it with a colony of runaway slaves. Vasco convinces the slaves to help build his home but, fearing for their safety, they eventually abandon him and his family. The following morning, an enraged Vasco attempts to finish building on his own. His rash actions result in a partial collapse that seriously injures him. The women, after discovering Vasco, wait for him to die then promptly bury him. After a failed attempt to escape back to civilization, the women make acquaintance with the son of a former slave, Massu (Seu Jorge). As the months pass, Aurea's child Maria is born and the three generations of women live with the assistance of their neighbor Massu. As years pass, Aurea carves out a small farm on her land while plotting her and her family's exit from the sand dunes. With each attempt some conflict arises impeding this escape. The outside world changes and moves on without them. Aurea and her daughter are completely unaware. They know nothing of WWI, nothing of WWII, nothing of civiliation; the sandy dunes in which they live isolate them completely.
Along with the fantastic cinematography, viewers will find the performances of Fernanda Torres, Fernanda Montenegro, and Seu Jorge to have a quiet but arresting feel. The dialog in this film is thin and almost meaningless; Seu Jorge may even have less than ten lines. It is their movements, their facial expressions--the pain and age on their faces--that tell their personal stories, their struggle with the land. The body language, just like the quiet rolling sand hills, is everything to this film. The cinematography and the acting combine to create a lyrical flow. Unless you're watching a Terrence Malick or David Gordon Green film, you won't see a recent American (as in Hollywood or Independent) movie with this kind of smooth-flowing scenery. This Brazilian film attempts to capture the Werner Herzog appeal, a romantic enchantment with nature (or the character's environment) and the struggle that the character must go through to overcome, conquer or survive. In so many ways this film is wonderful and beautiful. But this is not to say the film does everything it sets out to do.
There are failures on many levels in this film, but few are more disappointing than the treatment of main metaphor-the house of sand. The first half of the film concentrates on the vulnerability that the women's home has to the ever shifting sands. This wonderful image of a house is a mute point when the women move to another more stable home. The second half of the film completely neglects the earlier metaphor and what was one of the most impressive aspects is forgotten.
Waddington's real life wife, Fernanda Torres, and her mother, Fernanda Montenegro, star as the four female leads. That's right. They play two sets of a mother and daughter. The film opens with a multitude of extreme long shots, offering a bird's-eye-view of the desolate landscape his heroines live on from 1910 to 1969. The opening shots are only the overture of the scenery to come. The viewer will find that the film's most important character may very well be the rolling sand dunes. The reoccurring metaphor of the film--the effect that swarming sands and occasional flooding water has on a small home in the middle of nowhere, Brazil-- will stay with you long after the melodrama of this feminist parable fades.
After the extraordinary opening defining the landscape of the film, we are introduced to a pregnant Aurea (Torres) and her mother, Dona Maria (Montenegro). These women were forced to leave civilization by Aurea's tyrannical husband Vasco (Ruy Guerra, in a small performance on par with Klaus Kinski circa "Fitzcarraldo") who essentially bought Aurea from debtors then used the rest of his money to purchase a piece of land in the middle of nowhere. Once they arrive on the property, they find they must share it with a colony of runaway slaves. Vasco convinces the slaves to help build his home but, fearing for their safety, they eventually abandon him and his family. The following morning, an enraged Vasco attempts to finish building on his own. His rash actions result in a partial collapse that seriously injures him. The women, after discovering Vasco, wait for him to die then promptly bury him. After a failed attempt to escape back to civilization, the women make acquaintance with the son of a former slave, Massu (Seu Jorge). As the months pass, Aurea's child Maria is born and the three generations of women live with the assistance of their neighbor Massu. As years pass, Aurea carves out a small farm on her land while plotting her and her family's exit from the sand dunes. With each attempt some conflict arises impeding this escape. The outside world changes and moves on without them. Aurea and her daughter are completely unaware. They know nothing of WWI, nothing of WWII, nothing of civiliation; the sandy dunes in which they live isolate them completely.
Along with the fantastic cinematography, viewers will find the performances of Fernanda Torres, Fernanda Montenegro, and Seu Jorge to have a quiet but arresting feel. The dialog in this film is thin and almost meaningless; Seu Jorge may even have less than ten lines. It is their movements, their facial expressions--the pain and age on their faces--that tell their personal stories, their struggle with the land. The body language, just like the quiet rolling sand hills, is everything to this film. The cinematography and the acting combine to create a lyrical flow. Unless you're watching a Terrence Malick or David Gordon Green film, you won't see a recent American (as in Hollywood or Independent) movie with this kind of smooth-flowing scenery. This Brazilian film attempts to capture the Werner Herzog appeal, a romantic enchantment with nature (or the character's environment) and the struggle that the character must go through to overcome, conquer or survive. In so many ways this film is wonderful and beautiful. But this is not to say the film does everything it sets out to do.
There are failures on many levels in this film, but few are more disappointing than the treatment of main metaphor-the house of sand. The first half of the film concentrates on the vulnerability that the women's home has to the ever shifting sands. This wonderful image of a house is a mute point when the women move to another more stable home. The second half of the film completely neglects the earlier metaphor and what was one of the most impressive aspects is forgotten.
Produced and directed by Andrucha Waddington from a script written by Elena Soárez, "The House of Sand" may have intended to showcase two strong actresses playing a family of strong women, but it is nature, namely the sand dunes of Maranhao, that have the star turn in this film.
Waddington's real life wife, Fernanda Torres, and her mother, Fernanda Montenegro, star as the four female leads. That's right. They play two sets of a mother and daughter. The film opens with a multitude of extreme long shots, offering a bird's-eye-view of the desolate landscape his heroines live on from 1910 to 1969. The opening shots are only the overture of the scenery to come. The viewer will find that the film's most important character may very well be the rolling sand dunes. The reoccurring metaphor of the film--the effect that swarming sands and occasional flooding water has on a small home in the middle of nowhere, Brazil-- will stay with you long after the melodrama of this feminist parable fades.
After the extraordinary opening defining the landscape of the film, we are introduced to a pregnant Aurea (Torres) and her mother, Dona Maria (Montenegro). These women were forced to leave civilization by Aurea's tyrannical husband Vasco (Ruy Guerra, in a small performance on par with Klaus Kinski circa "Fitzcarraldo") who essentially bought Aurea from debtors then used the rest of his money to purchase a piece of land in the middle of nowhere. Once they arrive on the property, they find they must share it with a colony of runaway slaves. Vasco convinces the slaves to help build his home but, fearing for their safety, they eventually abandon him and his family. The following morning, an enraged Vasco attempts to finish building on his own. His rash actions result in a partial collapse that seriously injures him. The women, after discovering Vasco, wait for him to die then promptly bury him. After a failed attempt to escape back to civilization, the women make acquaintance with the son of a former slave, Massu (Seu Jorge). As the months pass, Aurea's child Maria is born and the three generations of women live with the assistance of their neighbor Massu. As years pass, Aurea carves out a small farm on her land while plotting her and her family's exit from the sand dunes. With each attempt some conflict arises impeding this escape. The outside world changes and moves on without them. Aurea and her daughter are completely unaware. They know nothing of WWI, nothing of WWII, nothing of civiliation; the sandy dunes in which they live isolate them completely.
Along with the fantastic cinematography, viewers will find the performances of Fernanda Torres, Fernanda Montenegro, and Seu Jorge to have a quiet but arresting feel. The dialog in this film is thin and almost meaningless; Seu Jorge may even have less than ten lines. It is their movements, their facial expressions--the pain and age on their faces--that tell their personal stories, their struggle with the land. The body language, just like the quiet rolling sand hills, is everything to this film. The cinematography and the acting combine to create a lyrical flow. Unless you're watching a Terrence Malick or David Gordon Green film, you won't see a recent American (as in Hollywood or Independent) movie with this kind of smooth-flowing scenery. This Brazilian film attempts to capture the Werner Herzog appeal, a romantic enchantment with nature (or the character's environment) and the struggle that the character must go through to overcome, conquer or survive. In so many ways this film is wonderful and beautiful. But this is not to say the film does everything it sets out to do.
There are failures on many levels in this film, but few are more disappointing than the treatment of main metaphor-the house of sand. The first half of the film concentrates on the vulnerability that the women's home has to the ever shifting sands. This wonderful image of a house is a mute point when the women move to another more stable home. The second half of the film completely neglects the earlier metaphor and what was one of the most impressive aspects is forgotten.
Waddington's real life wife, Fernanda Torres, and her mother, Fernanda Montenegro, star as the four female leads. That's right. They play two sets of a mother and daughter. The film opens with a multitude of extreme long shots, offering a bird's-eye-view of the desolate landscape his heroines live on from 1910 to 1969. The opening shots are only the overture of the scenery to come. The viewer will find that the film's most important character may very well be the rolling sand dunes. The reoccurring metaphor of the film--the effect that swarming sands and occasional flooding water has on a small home in the middle of nowhere, Brazil-- will stay with you long after the melodrama of this feminist parable fades.
After the extraordinary opening defining the landscape of the film, we are introduced to a pregnant Aurea (Torres) and her mother, Dona Maria (Montenegro). These women were forced to leave civilization by Aurea's tyrannical husband Vasco (Ruy Guerra, in a small performance on par with Klaus Kinski circa "Fitzcarraldo") who essentially bought Aurea from debtors then used the rest of his money to purchase a piece of land in the middle of nowhere. Once they arrive on the property, they find they must share it with a colony of runaway slaves. Vasco convinces the slaves to help build his home but, fearing for their safety, they eventually abandon him and his family. The following morning, an enraged Vasco attempts to finish building on his own. His rash actions result in a partial collapse that seriously injures him. The women, after discovering Vasco, wait for him to die then promptly bury him. After a failed attempt to escape back to civilization, the women make acquaintance with the son of a former slave, Massu (Seu Jorge). As the months pass, Aurea's child Maria is born and the three generations of women live with the assistance of their neighbor Massu. As years pass, Aurea carves out a small farm on her land while plotting her and her family's exit from the sand dunes. With each attempt some conflict arises impeding this escape. The outside world changes and moves on without them. Aurea and her daughter are completely unaware. They know nothing of WWI, nothing of WWII, nothing of civiliation; the sandy dunes in which they live isolate them completely.
Along with the fantastic cinematography, viewers will find the performances of Fernanda Torres, Fernanda Montenegro, and Seu Jorge to have a quiet but arresting feel. The dialog in this film is thin and almost meaningless; Seu Jorge may even have less than ten lines. It is their movements, their facial expressions--the pain and age on their faces--that tell their personal stories, their struggle with the land. The body language, just like the quiet rolling sand hills, is everything to this film. The cinematography and the acting combine to create a lyrical flow. Unless you're watching a Terrence Malick or David Gordon Green film, you won't see a recent American (as in Hollywood or Independent) movie with this kind of smooth-flowing scenery. This Brazilian film attempts to capture the Werner Herzog appeal, a romantic enchantment with nature (or the character's environment) and the struggle that the character must go through to overcome, conquer or survive. In so many ways this film is wonderful and beautiful. But this is not to say the film does everything it sets out to do.
There are failures on many levels in this film, but few are more disappointing than the treatment of main metaphor-the house of sand. The first half of the film concentrates on the vulnerability that the women's home has to the ever shifting sands. This wonderful image of a house is a mute point when the women move to another more stable home. The second half of the film completely neglects the earlier metaphor and what was one of the most impressive aspects is forgotten.
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