"Look out teeth. Look out gums.
Look out stomach. Here it comes."
"How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman" (1971) is surely the cinema´s most definitive statement on cultural assimilation.
Set in 16th century Brazil, Nelson Pereira dos Santos´ film tells the story of a French explorer (Arduíno Colasanti) who gets separated from his company when he accidentally "slips" into the ocean while accidentally wearing a pair of leg irons. He also accidentally manages not to drown, but instead washes up on shore only to be quickly taken captive by a Brazilian tribe who pegs him as a Portuguese just pretending to be French, and therefore fair game to be taken as a slave. The tribal chief Cunhambebe (Eduardo Imbassahy Filho) declares that he will make a fine meal of his new slave; he can do this because, unlike some other tribesmen, he has not yet been baptized.
You´d think this would be bad news for the Frenchman (who, unlike the tribe members, never gets a name) but he´s actually treated quite well by his new captors/gourmands. He´s given a place to live and a beautiful wife, Seboipepe (Ana Maria Magalhães) who dotes on her French lover. Our nominal hero soon adopts to the tribe´s ways, eventually running around as stark naked as the natives and, after a bit of hazing, hunting and fighting along with the rest of the warriors.
But this is hardly the hackneyed story of a civilized man finding salvation in the "simple" ways of the savages. Our Frenchman´s acculturation is a superficial one at best, as we find out when a French trader (who also doesn´t get a name) shows up to swap combs and other trinkets for wood and pepper. The Frenchman tries to cut a series of deals with the self-absorbed traders, first for his freedom, then for cold hard cash (or at least a few barrels of gunpowder.) The two businessmen are unable to come to an amicable agreement.
The most notable element of the film is the wall-to-wall nudity, virtually unprecedented in non-pornographic cinema. I don´t think there are many people out there, save those pathologically opposed to the very idea of exposed flesh, who would consider "How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman" to be pornographic, but it´s hardly a National Geographic shoot either. Most of the women, particularly Seboipepe, are beautiful, and the men are virile and strong (even the Frenchman appears is either quite well endowed or was only filmed when "excited.") The film has a strong erotic (but, importantly, not an exotic) component that doesn´t have much to do with the nudity itself, which is so omnipresent it simply becomes another structural aspect.
As the Frenchman appears to find his place in new culture, you might expect some reprieve from the chieftain, but ritual is ritual and when the requisite eight months are up, it´s time to fire up the grill. In one of the stranger farewell scenes you´re ever likely to watch, Seboipepe explains in great detail to her husband exactly what is going to happen and what is expected of him. She´ll be very disappointed if he doesn´t play his proper role. And she´ll miss him too, but she still gets to eat the neck. Ultimately, the Frenchman reveals just how little he has really changed, though he can´t be dismissed as a coward either. His final words to the tribe aren´t just an empty threat but a prediction of things to come as European powers would move in and devour (metaphorically, at least) the native tribes and take all the spoils of war for themselves. Cold comfort to a hot meal like our tasty Frenchman, but at least he will be avenged.
How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman" is a masterpiece of black comedy and even more impressive for its breezy economy (80 min.) than its audacious subject matter. It may remind viewers a bit of Werner Herzog´s lunatic vision in "Aguirre, the Wrath of God" (1972), but here the conquering hero is not romanticized, only digested. The balance of power swings completely (though, on a historical scale, only temporarily) in favor of the natives. Every time the Frenchman starts to feel all white-man superior because he´s showed the tribe how to build a better home or provided them with gunpowder, Cunhambebe grabs his catch-of-the-day by the hair and shows him who´s boss.
Look out stomach. Here it comes."
"How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman" (1971) is surely the cinema´s most definitive statement on cultural assimilation.
Set in 16th century Brazil, Nelson Pereira dos Santos´ film tells the story of a French explorer (Arduíno Colasanti) who gets separated from his company when he accidentally "slips" into the ocean while accidentally wearing a pair of leg irons. He also accidentally manages not to drown, but instead washes up on shore only to be quickly taken captive by a Brazilian tribe who pegs him as a Portuguese just pretending to be French, and therefore fair game to be taken as a slave. The tribal chief Cunhambebe (Eduardo Imbassahy Filho) declares that he will make a fine meal of his new slave; he can do this because, unlike some other tribesmen, he has not yet been baptized.
You´d think this would be bad news for the Frenchman (who, unlike the tribe members, never gets a name) but he´s actually treated quite well by his new captors/gourmands. He´s given a place to live and a beautiful wife, Seboipepe (Ana Maria Magalhães) who dotes on her French lover. Our nominal hero soon adopts to the tribe´s ways, eventually running around as stark naked as the natives and, after a bit of hazing, hunting and fighting along with the rest of the warriors.
But this is hardly the hackneyed story of a civilized man finding salvation in the "simple" ways of the savages. Our Frenchman´s acculturation is a superficial one at best, as we find out when a French trader (who also doesn´t get a name) shows up to swap combs and other trinkets for wood and pepper. The Frenchman tries to cut a series of deals with the self-absorbed traders, first for his freedom, then for cold hard cash (or at least a few barrels of gunpowder.) The two businessmen are unable to come to an amicable agreement.
The most notable element of the film is the wall-to-wall nudity, virtually unprecedented in non-pornographic cinema. I don´t think there are many people out there, save those pathologically opposed to the very idea of exposed flesh, who would consider "How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman" to be pornographic, but it´s hardly a National Geographic shoot either. Most of the women, particularly Seboipepe, are beautiful, and the men are virile and strong (even the Frenchman appears is either quite well endowed or was only filmed when "excited.") The film has a strong erotic (but, importantly, not an exotic) component that doesn´t have much to do with the nudity itself, which is so omnipresent it simply becomes another structural aspect.
As the Frenchman appears to find his place in new culture, you might expect some reprieve from the chieftain, but ritual is ritual and when the requisite eight months are up, it´s time to fire up the grill. In one of the stranger farewell scenes you´re ever likely to watch, Seboipepe explains in great detail to her husband exactly what is going to happen and what is expected of him. She´ll be very disappointed if he doesn´t play his proper role. And she´ll miss him too, but she still gets to eat the neck. Ultimately, the Frenchman reveals just how little he has really changed, though he can´t be dismissed as a coward either. His final words to the tribe aren´t just an empty threat but a prediction of things to come as European powers would move in and devour (metaphorically, at least) the native tribes and take all the spoils of war for themselves. Cold comfort to a hot meal like our tasty Frenchman, but at least he will be avenged.
How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman" is a masterpiece of black comedy and even more impressive for its breezy economy (80 min.) than its audacious subject matter. It may remind viewers a bit of Werner Herzog´s lunatic vision in "Aguirre, the Wrath of God" (1972), but here the conquering hero is not romanticized, only digested. The balance of power swings completely (though, on a historical scale, only temporarily) in favor of the natives. Every time the Frenchman starts to feel all white-man superior because he´s showed the tribe how to build a better home or provided them with gunpowder, Cunhambebe grabs his catch-of-the-day by the hair and shows him who´s boss.
"Look out teeth. Look out gums.
Look out stomach. Here it comes."
"How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman" (1971) is surely the cinema´s most definitive statement on cultural assimilation.
Set in 16th century Brazil, Nelson Pereira dos Santos´ film tells the story of a French explorer (Arduíno Colasanti) who gets separated from his company when he accidentally "slips" into the ocean while accidentally wearing a pair of leg irons. He also accidentally manages not to drown, but instead washes up on shore only to be quickly taken captive by a Brazilian tribe who pegs him as a Portuguese just pretending to be French, and therefore fair game to be taken as a slave. The tribal chief Cunhambebe (Eduardo Imbassahy Filho) declares that he will make a fine meal of his new slave; he can do this because, unlike some other tribesmen, he has not yet been baptized.
You´d think this would be bad news for the Frenchman (who, unlike the tribe members, never gets a name) but he´s actually treated quite well by his new captors/gourmands. He´s given a place to live and a beautiful wife, Seboipepe (Ana Maria Magalhães) who dotes on her French lover. Our nominal hero soon adopts to the tribe´s ways, eventually running around as stark naked as the natives and, after a bit of hazing, hunting and fighting along with the rest of the warriors.
But this is hardly the hackneyed story of a civilized man finding salvation in the "simple" ways of the savages. Our Frenchman´s acculturation is a superficial one at best, as we find out when a French trader (who also doesn´t get a name) shows up to swap combs and other trinkets for wood and pepper. The Frenchman tries to cut a series of deals with the self-absorbed traders, first for his freedom, then for cold hard cash (or at least a few barrels of gunpowder.) The two businessmen are unable to come to an amicable agreement.
The most notable element of the film is the wall-to-wall nudity, virtually unprecedented in non-pornographic cinema. I don´t think there are many people out there, save those pathologically opposed to the very idea of exposed flesh, who would consider "How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman" to be pornographic, but it´s hardly a National Geographic shoot either. Most of the women, particularly Seboipepe, are beautiful, and the men are virile and strong (even the Frenchman appears is either quite well endowed or was only filmed when "excited.") The film has a strong erotic (but, importantly, not an exotic) component that doesn´t have much to do with the nudity itself, which is so omnipresent it simply becomes another structural aspect.
As the Frenchman appears to find his place in new culture, you might expect some reprieve from the chieftain, but ritual is ritual and when the requisite eight months are up, it´s time to fire up the grill. In one of the stranger farewell scenes you´re ever likely to watch, Seboipepe explains in great detail to her husband exactly what is going to happen and what is expected of him. She´ll be very disappointed if he doesn´t play his proper role. And she´ll miss him too, but she still gets to eat the neck. Ultimately, the Frenchman reveals just how little he has really changed, though he can´t be dismissed as a coward either. His final words to the tribe aren´t just an empty threat but a prediction of things to come as European powers would move in and devour (metaphorically, at least) the native tribes and take all the spoils of war for themselves. Cold comfort to a hot meal like our tasty Frenchman, but at least he will be avenged.
How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman" is a masterpiece of black comedy and even more impressive for its breezy economy (80 min.) than its audacious subject matter. It may remind viewers a bit of Werner Herzog´s lunatic vision in "Aguirre, the Wrath of God" (1972), but here the conquering hero is not romanticized, only digested. The balance of power swings completely (though, on a historical scale, only temporarily) in favor of the natives. Every time the Frenchman starts to feel all white-man superior because he´s showed the tribe how to build a better home or provided them with gunpowder, Cunhambebe grabs his catch-of-the-day by the hair and shows him who´s boss.
Look out stomach. Here it comes."
"How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman" (1971) is surely the cinema´s most definitive statement on cultural assimilation.
Set in 16th century Brazil, Nelson Pereira dos Santos´ film tells the story of a French explorer (Arduíno Colasanti) who gets separated from his company when he accidentally "slips" into the ocean while accidentally wearing a pair of leg irons. He also accidentally manages not to drown, but instead washes up on shore only to be quickly taken captive by a Brazilian tribe who pegs him as a Portuguese just pretending to be French, and therefore fair game to be taken as a slave. The tribal chief Cunhambebe (Eduardo Imbassahy Filho) declares that he will make a fine meal of his new slave; he can do this because, unlike some other tribesmen, he has not yet been baptized.
You´d think this would be bad news for the Frenchman (who, unlike the tribe members, never gets a name) but he´s actually treated quite well by his new captors/gourmands. He´s given a place to live and a beautiful wife, Seboipepe (Ana Maria Magalhães) who dotes on her French lover. Our nominal hero soon adopts to the tribe´s ways, eventually running around as stark naked as the natives and, after a bit of hazing, hunting and fighting along with the rest of the warriors.
But this is hardly the hackneyed story of a civilized man finding salvation in the "simple" ways of the savages. Our Frenchman´s acculturation is a superficial one at best, as we find out when a French trader (who also doesn´t get a name) shows up to swap combs and other trinkets for wood and pepper. The Frenchman tries to cut a series of deals with the self-absorbed traders, first for his freedom, then for cold hard cash (or at least a few barrels of gunpowder.) The two businessmen are unable to come to an amicable agreement.
The most notable element of the film is the wall-to-wall nudity, virtually unprecedented in non-pornographic cinema. I don´t think there are many people out there, save those pathologically opposed to the very idea of exposed flesh, who would consider "How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman" to be pornographic, but it´s hardly a National Geographic shoot either. Most of the women, particularly Seboipepe, are beautiful, and the men are virile and strong (even the Frenchman appears is either quite well endowed or was only filmed when "excited.") The film has a strong erotic (but, importantly, not an exotic) component that doesn´t have much to do with the nudity itself, which is so omnipresent it simply becomes another structural aspect.
As the Frenchman appears to find his place in new culture, you might expect some reprieve from the chieftain, but ritual is ritual and when the requisite eight months are up, it´s time to fire up the grill. In one of the stranger farewell scenes you´re ever likely to watch, Seboipepe explains in great detail to her husband exactly what is going to happen and what is expected of him. She´ll be very disappointed if he doesn´t play his proper role. And she´ll miss him too, but she still gets to eat the neck. Ultimately, the Frenchman reveals just how little he has really changed, though he can´t be dismissed as a coward either. His final words to the tribe aren´t just an empty threat but a prediction of things to come as European powers would move in and devour (metaphorically, at least) the native tribes and take all the spoils of war for themselves. Cold comfort to a hot meal like our tasty Frenchman, but at least he will be avenged.
How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman" is a masterpiece of black comedy and even more impressive for its breezy economy (80 min.) than its audacious subject matter. It may remind viewers a bit of Werner Herzog´s lunatic vision in "Aguirre, the Wrath of God" (1972), but here the conquering hero is not romanticized, only digested. The balance of power swings completely (though, on a historical scale, only temporarily) in favor of the natives. Every time the Frenchman starts to feel all white-man superior because he´s showed the tribe how to build a better home or provided them with gunpowder, Cunhambebe grabs his catch-of-the-day by the hair and shows him who´s boss.
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