Cinemagain ...

In Greek mythology, later transformed in the imagination of Dante Alighieri, Charon offered a ride to lost souls in his boat, so they could cross the River Styx to reach the circle of Hell that best suited them. In contrast, in 'The Movement of Things,' we are taken, crossing the River Lima, to a more earthly territory still inhabited by mortals. The fog thickens on its banks, not foretelling Sebastian returns, but arrivals from the world of tomorrow, sold in this way, with promises of progress and prosperity, never installing, but replacing the previous daily life.

'The Movement of Things,' the only directorial work of Manuela Serra, previously known as an assistant to Rui Simões in 'Good Portuguese People' (1981), arrived in our commercial circuit after a 36-year absence. During this period, it accumulated awards and mentions at festivals, filled the imagination of many cinephiles and future Portuguese filmmakers, fueling a fascination of this cinema with our rural landscape. The reasons that led Serra to leave the medium and break radically with cinema in her life are still debatable, and the interviews she has given to the press range from 'political forces' to a 'world imperatively governed by men,' passing through simple 'disinterest.' Whatever the reason, this was definitely the film that Portugal, obscurely, never forgot, and its aficionados speak for themselves.

Before 'The Movement of Things,' the rural environment already had a connection with our cinema, finding a strategic milestone in the adventures of António Reis and Margarida Cordeiro in ‘Trás-os-Montes’ (the film dates back to 1976) (and why not the rarity now preserved by Manoel de Oliveira in 'Rite of Spring' in 1963, and so on, there are many examples). But what Manuela Serra really captured in the village of Lanheses (near Viana do Castelo) was the urgency to film and record an everyday life threatened by the advance of covert industry (in this restored copy, this is highlighted by the addition of a new final shot, the necessary endpoint for the transmission of its message). What she achieved (almost four decades later and with a new look, this is confirmed) was the effect of a 'time capsule,' a showcase of fieldwork, festive corn huskings, religious dedications and their so-called centuries-old rituals, and the modesty of those who do everything / did everything to keep these themes alive (at least during their shelf life), especially women, Herculean forces in day-to-day life.

However, I cannot help but note Serra's ability to combine this prism into a rich and dialogued editing effort, in complicity with detailed planning. I say this, considering the legacy created by these 'Things,' now abundant in numerous Portuguese festivals, where one can mainly notice a condescension, not only towards the inhabitants of the chosen villages but also towards the material and how it will manifest itself in the film. There are few who still preserve this cinematic vein in rurality, instead of succumbing to formal easiness, often praised by critical cinematic thought elites. And it is for this, and not only this, that 'The Movement of Things' is a crucial film in our history, a model that is sometimes accidented, sometimes poetized without latent bucolic elements.

I state without fear of stoning that, to date, I doubt there is a more beautiful film about the countryside than this unique child of Serra. As unique as the hand-painted porcelain from which the old woman consumes her 'improvised ink soup."

In the original Portuguese, read here