Limite

The real Limite, as opposed to its myth, is an elaborate experimental home movie made by a very bright 22-year-old, getting his rocks off about his frustrated love life -- an affair with a married woman. The film got produced only because of his family's wealth and connections -- but after it was made, no one in Brazil would distribute it, so it disappeared from sight and gradually languished into a "cult film."

It's worth a look for its ravishing flashes of brilliance, and especially for its use of the camera as an active participant -- allowed to express the frustration & rage that the characters are "limited" from expressing openly (as extra-marital relationships were still a taboo subject in Brazil in 1930?). But without the musical sound track assembled from well-known compositions by Satie, Debussy, Stravinsky, etc. it'd be unwatchable for most of its 2 hours of meandering and deliberately veiled self-indulgence.

A cinematic masterpiece? On a par with films by Dreyer or Vigo or Welles? That's just Brazilian hype. Apparently abetted by the director himself who in 1965 -- out of yet more frustration & rage at the poor reception his magnum (and only) film opus had received -- published a Portuguese translation of a glowing review by none other than "Sergei Eisenstein" -- but no one could locate the original, and Peixoto finally acknowledged, shortly before his death in 1992, that he had penned it himself.

"Limite", filmed in 1930 and first exhibited in 1931, has over the last 70 years become a legendary cult movie in Brazil, voted several times as one of the best Brazilian movie ever made, and may be considered as the only reference for Brazilian poetic-experimental films of the silent area. What we have here is a film that pretends to combine the idea of a pure, "absolute" cinema - not tied to "realistic" narrative structures and trusting overall the camera – eye as the protagonist - with a poetic reflection on memory and time, a theme explored also in a 6-volume novel by Peixoto called "The uselessness of each one". As many young Brazilians from rich families who later formed the intellectual and artistic elite at the beginning of the 20th century, Peixoto received important artistic stimulus from Europe.

In 1927, at the age of 19, Peixoto spent almost a year at the "Hopedene School" in Willingdon near Eastbourne, Sussex, where he discovered a certain inclination towards acting and developed a strong appreciation for the cinema. Peixoto would return to Europe in 1929 with the expressive intension to see the latest cinema productions. Fascination for the cinema, contacts with critic/ writer Octavio de Farias, cameraman Edgar Brazil, director Adhemar Gonzaga, (Peixoto participated in the shooting of "Barro Humano" (Human Clay, a film from 1927) and the discussions held in the Chaplin Club, laid the ground work for the idea of making his own movie, where he would figure as an actor. The Chaplin Club, made up of a loose circle of friends, was founded in 1928 and until 1930 published a magazine called "The fan" dedicated to debates on the esthetics of silent cinema.

According to Peixoto, he got his final inspiration for "Limite" in august 1929. While walking through Paris he saw a photograph in the 74th edition of the French magazine "VU", a magazine which Man Ray had worked for, by the way. It was this picture that led to the writing of the scenario for "Limite", published only in 1996. The hand-written scenario was then offered to director friends Gonzaga and Mauro. But both declined. They advised him to make the film himself and to hire cameraman Edgar Brazil who had the necessary experience to guarantee the realization of the project. Shooting then began in mid 1930, using specially imported film material with a high sensitivity for grey scales and stills from Limite were soon distributed and, in an effort to raise the public expectation, they were frequently presented as photos from a new Pudovkin movie. The first screening took place on May 17th 1931 in the Capitol Cinema Rio, a session organized by the Chaplin Club, which announced "Limite" as the first Brazilian film of pure cinema. It received excellent reviews from the critics who saw the film as an original Brazilian "avant-garde" production, but also rejection by part of the audience. "Limite" never made it into commercial circuits and over the years was screened only sporadically, as in 1942 when a special session was arranged for Orson Wells (who was in South America for the shooting of the unfinished "It' s all true") and for Maria Falconetti, lead actress of Dreyer's "The Passion of Joan of Arc" (1928). Limite remained the only film ever completed by Mário Peixoto, even though he tried to realize different projects until mid 80s.

In 1959, the nitrate film began to deteriorate and two dedicated fans, Plinio Süssekind and Saulo Pereira de Mello, started a frame-by-frame restoration of the last existing copy and "Limite" only returned to festivals and screenings in 1978. The legend around the film increased when Mário Peixoto withdrew to an island living in a mansion which was a gift from his father, and he spent most of his fortune transforming it into a private museum stuffed with antiques. Due to financial problems, he later had to sell this property and move into in a small hotel where he reactivated his literary ambitions, working on his novel as well as on poems, theater plays and short stories. His final years were spent in a small flat in Copacabana, where he died in 1992 and he only survived a severe illness in the 80s because of the financial support of Walter Salles, probably today's most successful Brazilian director and producer. ("Central of Brazil", "Motorcycle Diaries", producer of "City of Good", planning his next project once again with Robert Redford – who co produced the "Diaries" – filming "No Caminho das Baleias", adaptation of a novel from Chile writer Francisco Coloane). It was also Walter Salles who in 1996 founded the "Mario Peixoto Archive" located in his production firm "Videofilmes" in Rio, where Saulo Pereira de Mello – one of the restores of Limite - and his wife take care of the original manuscripts and objects from Limite, and edit publications by and on Peixoto.

There is nothing ordinary about this movie. Even its continued existence seems to be a fascinating bit of cinematic and cultural history, reflected in portions of the footage that were considerably degraded prior to digital preservation. Between filmmaker Mário Peixoto's pointedly unconventional selection and arrangement of shots, his editing, and Edgar Brasil's cinematography, in part I'm reminded of Dziga Vertov's 'Man with a movie camera,' save for that 'Limite' boasts discrete storytelling versus pure technique. That storytelling is conducted piecemeal and effectively through imagery alone, as any text in this silent picture is sparing (and perhaps also dependent on where and how you watch) and arguably inessential to the film itself. Rounded out simply with lush orchestral music, at the outset the feature seems decidedly uncomplicated, and for those who have difficulty with the silent era maybe altogether lacking. Even for those accustomed to older titles, and more unorthodox ones, I don't think it's unreasonable to say that 'Limite' is a little challenging. For those who can best appreciate it, however, this is rich and engrossing, with little ready comparison.

Should one view this strictly as a somewhat abstruse exercise in experimental film-making, still it would be worthy on that basis alone. 'Man with a movie camera' might actually be a fair point of reference after all, as no small part of the shot composition in 'Limite' is comprised of portraits in miniature of people, structures, landscapes, or objects that are in and of themselves wonderfully curious and curiously wonderful. Between this and close-ups, oblique angles, a sometimes freely moving camera, and other atypical qualities of direction and photography, the fundamental visual experience of the feature is joyously flavorful, and maybe its core value. Granted, this may understandably not be enough for some viewers, yet the certainty of the excellence in this regard is then also abutted against a sense of narrative that is more loose and less concrete. To be sure, there is plot herein, yet its scenes, characters, and beats are often given less than perfect definition, such that discerning connective threads is not immediately guaranteed. Such deficit of clarity will doubtlessly further alienate some viewers, and nonetheless make the title more difficult even for those otherwise prepared to engage with it.

For my part, what I require most out of any given picture is a story, a through line, some distinct progression from A to B. This isn't to say that I can't also admire films that adopt a more avant-garde approach - but on the other hand, those projects that try to have it both ways are all but destined for more stringent assessment. Where 'Limite' focuses on its resplendent, painstaking visual construction, or where it emphatically focuses on communication of major plot, it's sharp if not also altogether brilliant. The more artistically minded it becomes in conveying its story, centered around its more plainly evident themes, the more I personally struggle with it. By all means, I think this feature is fantastic, deserving on its own merits and earning a solid recommendation for those who enjoy the less mainstream side of cinema. I just also think that a tad more explicitness in the storytelling would have broadened the movie's viewership, and opened up new channels of esteem otherwise, without actually losing any of its substance (direct or indirect) or artistic value. As if to illustrate the point: the music is great, yet just as there are times when its juxtaposition with a scene is perfect, and other instances when the specific piece selected to accompany a specific moment is ill-fitting.

Still, maybe all these words are beside the point, because the truth remains that by the nature of what 'Limite' is, its appeal will be, well, "limited" to the most ardent, open-minded, and patient of cinephiles. Again, for its shot composition, cinematography, and editing alone I believe this is worth watching, let alone the bigger ideas underlying its craft and the particular story (stories) it tells. Even at that, though, mileage will vary significantly from one viewer to the next. I'm of the mind that this is well worth seeking out and exploring, and I can see how it's held in such high regard - with the recognition that not everyone will have the same experience.

In a drifting small boat, two women and a man recall their recent past. One of the women escaped from the prison; the other one was desperate; and the man had lost his lover. They have no further strength or desire to live and have reached the limit of their existences. Why they are together in this boat it is not clearly explained (or understood by me).

"Limite" is a Brazilian piece of art. The storyline is very simple, but the images are amazing, being a poetic and impressive exhibition of pictures in movement. The rhythm is very slow paced and sometimes the viewer certainly will get tired, but it is worthwhile. Mário Peixoto was sixteen years old when he directed this film. The film had been vanished for more than forty years, and was retrieved and partially restored in the 70's by Saulo Pereira de Mello and Plínio Sussekind. One small part was completely lost, and there is one reel in a very bad condition. The soundtrack, with magnificent musics of Borodin, Cesar Frank, Debussy, Prokofieff, Ravel, Satie and Strawinsky fits perfectly to this movie. "Limite" follows European standards, and in accordance with a Brazilian Video Guide, in a previous exhibition in London for filmmakers, Sergei Eisenstein was the first one to recognize the geniuses of "Limite", followed by Vsevolod Poudovkine. I believe that watching this movie is basic for any movie lover or student. My vote is ten.

Title (Brazil): "Limite" ("Limit")

Obs.: On 12 November 2005 and 28 November 2007, I saw this magnificent movie again.

Another comment here gives some precious background around the film which frees us here to examine the cinematic, the work of moving illusion.

We cut at the heart of cinema when we say that memory is one of the central facets of what gives rise to reality, that faculty we have with the capacity to recall and project illusion, a cinematic subject. We have three characters stranded on a boat here, each reminiscing in turn about currents of life that brought them there.

The whole is what they were fond of calling a "cinematic poem" in those days, which means this. Memory as a way of shuffling narrative, creating currents of image so that it's not anchored on a stage, nor pivots around clearly revealed drama, but wanders off and about, free to gather up disparate views from the whole mundane horizon.

People walking places, empty windows, a flower by the side of the road, an affair, a Chaplin movie, tall grasses, these and others are all picked up to be scattered about again by the camera. It's already where Jonas Mekas would arrive a long time later.

Those were wonderful times but so different - horizons that were open then are now closed and vice versa. So when a scene of inner turmoil is transmuted as the camera wildly swinging around at the hands of the operator, you get the painterly sense desired, how the known geography in front of the eye can be made to spill like a painter mixes colors. It's French inspired in this sense, the works of Epstein and others.

We have come up with more eloquent ways since, which comes down to a single thing. The silent makers worth knowing all dismantled perception, freeing eye from world. That was enough at that stage. The question then was how to regroup these fragments in a more penetrative sense that looks behind appearances to find soul, actually do it. All the subsequent cinematic schools of note would busy themselves with ways to thread this cornucopia of images, Italians first.

This might well be what this filmmaker was doing in his way, looking for soul, and it was enough to impress Welles when he was going to be down there in Brazil a decade later. But it is also randomly scattershot for long stretches, giving simply a fragmental sense.

As a last thing to note, the wonderful experiments of the silent era would soon draw to an end, this comes on the tail end. Sound rolled in, solidifying reality back to a fixed state, removing the sense of reverie ingrained in silence. You'll see near the end here a wonderful sequence of symphonic water - film could still be thought of as music, whereas not after.