by Allan Fish
(Portugal/France 2010 330m) DVD2 (France/Portugal only)
Aka. Misterios de Lisboa
The mausoleum of the mind
p Paolo Branco d Raoul Ruiz w Carlos Saboga novel Camilo Castelo Branco ph André Szankowski ed Valeria Sarmiento, Carlos Madaleno m Jorge Arriagada art Isabel Branco, Paula Szabo cos Tania Franco
Adriano Luz (Father Dinis), Maria Joao Bastos (Angela de Lima), Ricardo Pereira (Alberto de Magalhaes), Joao Arrais (young Pedro da Silva), José Afonso Pimentel (adult Pedro da Silva), Albano Jerónimo (Count de Santa Barbara), Léa Seydoux (Blanche de Montfort), Clotilde Hesme (Elisa de Montfort), Julien Aluguette (Benoit), Martin Loizillon (young Father Dinis), Joana de Verona (Eugenia), Melvil Poupaud (Ernesto Lacroze), Joao Baptista (Don Pedro da Silva), Sao José Correia (Anacleta dos Remédios),
It’s said that when it went into production Mysteries of Lisbon was expected to be Raoul Ruiz’s last film; he was suffering from liver cancer at the time of its shooting. He’d made various TV dramas in his early days and this Portuguese TV adaptation of a legendary, dense book by Camilo Castelo Branco, partly financed with French money, was a long-cherished project. In many ways it would seem like a return full circle, were it not for the fact that the notion of a circle seems so foreign to Ruiz.
Ruiz had never been one to turn away from the impossible – after all, he’d not only dared to film Proust in Time Regained he’d created a film worthy, if not quite of comparison to the book, then at least standing tall in itself. Proust was not one for narratives with such geometric precision as a circle and the same can safely be said of Branco, if Ruiz’s adaptation is anything to go by. There would be a shorter – but still 4½ hours long – version for cinematic release, but the episodic nature of the original series perfectly suits the plot. There are six parts, entitled The Boy with No Name, The Count of Santa Barbara, The Enigma of Father Dinis, The Crimes of Ancaleta dos Remédios, Blanche de Montfort and The Vengeance of the Ducjess of Cliton. Essentially there is no protagonist, unless it be fate, waiting in the wings in much the same way as the characters who are revealed initially off screen in several of Ruiz’s trademark pans and pull-backs. There’s seemingly always someone watching or listening in; servants, children, opposing soldiers, betrayed lovers. It all begins with the case of a teenage boy with the adopted name of Joao who slowly becomes aware of his true parentage. His story will then interlock with that of the priest who is responsible in part for his upbringing, a former assassin who was once paid to kill Joao as a baby but was paid off by the priest, the assassin’s wife, his vengeful former mistress who contrives to try and seduce various other men into getting what she believes is justified vengeance for the death of her twin brother. Elsewhere, a vindictive mistress kills a bishop with whom she has had three daughters but is robbed and loses one of her daughters.
Death is always present, but his carriage is always parked just off screen, and suicides or attempts thereof play a large part. Plot details that seem irrelevant become vital and meet in unexpected places. Some film plots are linear, buildings that you could walk down corridors and know exactly where you are from beginning to end. Memories is like a haunted house in which hidden passages, staircases and doors seemingly defy physics, as if a door from one room leads into a room on the floor above or below. All the dimensions of space and time fluid, its characters all puppets in a toy theatre, while the camera is eternally restless, only staying still in such scenes as the audience wants it to move either left, right, forward or back, teasing you always. Ruiz’s camera moves as if through walls and one expects not just the physical setting to collapse but time. The cast all play it to perfection, understated and overstated as the mood suits, with special prizes to Pereira as the most darkly fascinating character of all and Hesme as the poisonous duchess. With a score that threatens to turn into Wojciech Kilar’s Dracula and gorgeous period trappings, it’s a six course feast. Fade to white.
Mr. Fish, one question…
isn’t this miniseries version from 2011, aired just recently on Portugal?
and another thing,
have you seen his other tv miniseries, two of them fairly recent, done for Chilean TV? Quite as remembered, I think.
Ruiz has gone a long way, and one of my teachers has written a book on him, because they are friends.
It first aired on French TV in 2010, hen was cut down for cinematic showing at Festivals late last year – London, Toronto, New York, etc.
I saw it in theatrical release and I suspect it might work better in the TV version; I liked it a good deal but don’t really understand the Film Comment “One of the First Masterpieces of the Century” hyperbole. It’s a film drunk on storytelling except it’s not really drunk; at least in the theatrical version it seems too tightly structured and each story is about the same length with the same soundtrack playing over and over and over. The longer runtime and more episodic structure of a miniseries might give it more room to breathe and turn it into something far more interesting, or at least something more like what the film’s biggest supporters are describing.
I will get to the film version in time as it’s also in the boxset, but I expect it to lose some of its fascination.
I’ve never seen a film made by Ruiz, the closest thing were those miniseries he did for chilean television not so many years ago. It is sad to know that he died at the age of 70 in Paris, just after filming a new movie in Chile, and of releasing a new book on his work, written by a teacher of me and also filmmaker, Cristian Sánchez.
It is sad to hear and just fortunate that we can still enjoy his mystic and special films that he made. Enigmatic, yet filled with poetry.
Jaime, seek out ‘The Hypothesis of the Stolen Painting (1978)’. It’s quite simple on of the great films of the 1970’s and one of my favorite films ever. Love that film.
Ruiz’ untimely and tragic passing this week lends a sure air of poignancy to his final film here.
He actually completed one more.
The trailer reminded me of Bright Star and a definite Juliano contender for best of 2011. Gorgeous cinematography aside, (in my opinion) it gave off the same blandish bloodless period vibe I found annoying in the Campion film and others of the same ilk. I know Sam loves these literary refined romantic pictures and I’m sure he is chomping at the bit to see it in the near future (playing at IFC soon I think).
Sad to hear the passing of Ruiz…
Ha Maurizio!
Well, while I can’t deny that for the most part what you say here is true, there are some exceptions. The well-regarded Holocaust drama, SARAH’S KEY (which I saw last night) period piece and literary sensibilities throughout was a rather mixed bag for me, due to some disjointed narrative convolutions.
BRIGHT STAR of course it masterful stuff.
Campion’s BRIGHT STAR is bland? hmmm, I guess she must have made another film called BRIGHT STAR as the one from 2009 is pretty fantastic.
Bright Star was good, for sure, especially in Abbie Cornish’s criminally neglected performance and the visual recreation. But it doesn’t improve with reacquaintance and if I was to be bold, I’d say In the Cut may well be seen as Campion’s best film of the 2000s in a couole of decades or so. It may be flawed in the character of the detectvie played by Mark Ruffalo and have a heroine doing some very stupid things in the final act, but Meg Ryan’s performance (the most negelcted in American film of the entire decade), the photography and the sense of despair are increasingly palpable. I’d have both at ***½ but one is rising and the other falling.