Usually I am much inclined to diss gay-themed movies, since many of those have become quite redundant. But this one is not just quite realistic, it also manages to embed a gay love story in a period setting without feeling forced, mainly because the director succeeds in balancing the various plot elements.
The rancor of the other reviewer here would seem to stem from disappointed expectations - and yes, if you're expecting a raunchy boy-meets-man tale, you're likely to wonder what all those social comments and politics have to do with it. If you're interested in a Brazilian period piece, your expectations are more likely to be met - though I personally thought the sex scenes to be among the most erotic of late, mainly because the guys don't look like swimwear models.
What I really liked about 'Tatuagem' is that it's distinctly Brazilian. The characters are a mess, but continuously look for some kind of stability, which seems to elude them whenever they believe they have found it - be it the soldier who has to choose between his sexuality and the lifestyle that comes with it, or his job with an income that may enable him to support his family, be it the flamboyant, yet firm dramatic anarchist who tries to keep his troupe together, but constantly runs into risks of being abused by them. That's very familiar to anyone who has stayed in the country a bit, but agreed - it's not very sympathetic if you like your film characters to behave better than real people.
What 'Tatuagem' lacks is coherence. At times I was wondering: 'Woops, how did we get here all of a sudden?' You're more than once expected to fill the gaps between what happens on your own. I didn't have that much trouble with that, because I felt that it enhanced the atmosphere of creative mess the film described.
In short: this isn't your average boy-meets-boy kitsch, even though it dwells on kitschy trash at times, and it's also no sophisticated art-house flick. It's a decent, mostly realistic gay love story in a period setting with a strong Brazilian flavor.
