A Paixão Segundo G.H.

First of all, it's important to talk about the book that inspired the movie. Is has the same name and it's by the greatest female writer in Brazil, Clarice Lispector. Lispector is know by a extremely poetic and philosophical writing, that created complex characteres, such as G. H

When i was watching the movie i couldn't escape from the feeling that this work reminds me of the earliest stages of cinema. In theses stages, trying do prove itself as value as teather or paitings, cinema would copy these arts. Creating some kind of reproduction of them, as the cinema didn't have its own soul and esthetic found yet.

G. H is a monologue with two hours of extension. What we see in the movie is a long and lonely speach, as we don't have other people talking. This is speach is made in a closed format, that takes only the center of the screen. This closed format works in a way to prevent you from drifting from the character, as we don't have anywhere else to see.

This movie has great acting and a beautiful direction of art and photography. But at the same time it doesn't has a reason for it's existence. Is wasn't capable of finding a exterior motive, besides the book, to work this story in a different media. It's not really a different media, is a ilustrated performance that would work better a teather maybe.

The ideia of beautiness being the reason to justificate the quality of a work of cinema, even a work of art, it's the ideia that we overcame in the past. If the text is better in the book, if the acting reminds teather monologues, why would a movie exist just to be beautiful?

The endless monologue of the main character became tiring already in the first few minutes. Me and my friend both fell asleep at the cinema within 10-15 minutes and woke up from a scream of the main character. Monotonous shots of her inside her flat rambling through her existential crisis. It is supposed to be philosophical and artistic but is primarily boring. It might work as a book, but as a film, it lacks everything. Even for sleeping, because of her sudden scream. Two hours wasted, do not make the same mistake. One of the biggest disappointments I have seen in cinema. It had a 7.9 rating here when I checked, I see now that average was based on too few reviews to take seriously.

Maria Fernanda Cândido's character holds the viewer's hand to drag you down into a trip of self disconnection. She dances, reflects, cries and crawls through a thousand emotions, she turns herself into so many characters in her search for herself.

This piece is a stunning impersonation of author Clarice Lispector's romance in first person, a piece that seems impossible to bring to a screen when you read it, but Luiz Fernando Carvalho magestically worked it out. Through a portrait perspective and a monologue that prances through the expectations of high class Brazil, the "passive" role of women, racism, poverty, disgust and otherness.

As I write this text... The film is still in cinemas across Brazil. There are those who say that it's nothing more than an "audiobook version" of Clarice's book, there are those who get up in the middle of the session and complain on social media... Simply, disagreements, that's life. But there are those who find cinema and in cinema a version of themselves stamped on G. H.'s via crucis. And feel a film made of human material in every pore of the actress and director. Speaking of LFC, if this film that was considered "impossible" to be filmed comes to life now, it's because passion has transformed into love that can be found.

Just watched yesterday (Saturday) at a film festival Luiz Fernando Carvalho's second feature, 22 years after "To The Left of Father", his first feature. Before starting, suspect of any other extensive review considering this film "a masterpiece", comparing it to works of filmmakers known strictly to cinephiles such as Godard, Pasolini, Antonioni, Bergman and others. Summarizing in a few words: two hours straight of endless speech by the female lead and boredom. Almost the whole movie is shown in pan&scan aspect ratio (or 1:33 aspect ratio), the bored woman looking straight to the camera while speaking, crying, smiling. Endless blah, blah, blah on nothing. Sometimes alternate with B&W moments. Only very few moments to highlight: the maid, a young black woman, drawing in her bedroom's wall; the bored female lead destroying the drawings at the wall; and the close-ups of the living cockroach and its bleeding lymph. The director shot his own foot with his new feature. This movie is not for healthy and normal people. Not recommended.