Que Horas Ela Volta?

A subtle look into the not very subtle work relations in Brazil, where slavery is all but truly abolished. After working for over 10 years both as nanny and housemaid to an upper middle class family in São Paulo, Val is supposedly regarded as one of the family, occupying, however, shabby and crammed quarters in the beautiful mansion of her employers. When the family agrees to welcome Val's daughter for a short time while she sits for college admission exams, everyone gets a lot more than they bargained for. The bright girl's presence will affect the whole household, putting to the test the politically correct attitude of the employers to their employees and making evident the full hypocrisy of the situation. The material director and screenplay writer Muylaert deals with is potentially both tragic and comic. She has wisely chosen comedy, but not the laughing out loud kind. This film will put a light smile on your face while making you a little uncomfortable at the same time, particularly if, like most Brazilians, you don't really see everyone in society exactly as your equal.

For those of us who have known nannies, the easiest generalization we can make is it's too bad she can't be with her own children. Well. Anna Muylaert's Brazilian film, The Second Mother, shows what happens when nanny-housekeeper Val (Regina Case) in an upper-class Sao Paulo home has her estranged, grown daughter, Jessica (Camila Mardila), stay with her before Jessica takes her college exams.

The disappointment Jessica feels about her mother's subservient life seems natural enough given Jessica's ambition to be an architect. The real conflict is within Val's heart where Jess's openness with the family Val serves and their embracing her as an equal can't abide Val's lifetime of service, which teaches never to intrude, never assume a place at their table, never swim in their pool. All of which Jess gleefully does.

The remarkable character of this film is how it reflects the points of views of mom and daughter without judging the appropriateness of either position. Jess is often described as being snobbish and Val too easily cowed by the family. The film's generous heart allows enough time for each of the principals to grow in understanding the other.

The Second Mother spends too little time on the interpersonal relationships and ends without solid resolution of the characters' differences. What neither mom nor daughter seems to get is that the stark class divide in Brazil brooks no exceptions; in effect, Val will be stuck here for the rest of her life, and Jess will escape through education. The film seems to suggest that the upper-class Val serves is impenetrable except through marriage or education.

"Why do elites hate the poor? It's xenophobia. They don't know any poor people - except their off-the-books Brazilian nanny and illegal immigrant cleaning lady from Upper Revolta who don't speak English." P. J. O'Rourke

Brazilian filmmaking won me over a lot last year with the sensitive, funny and uplifting The Way He Looks, now I'm back in Brazil's court with the endearing The Second Mother. Their filmmakers doing domestic drama the way America should be, taking it in humanistic ways without over-complication. It's a simple setup, one organic and truthful despite how nuanced the drama is. When Val's estranged teenage daughter comes to stay with the affluent family she lives with and serves, the balance is upset by her simply using their pool and eating their ice cream. It highlights the social constructs which are assumed with certain boundaries and duties. The family considers Val part of the family, but far from treats her like one, and Regina Case's performance as Val is effortless and stellar. The film points out those hypocrisies in a well defined, lightly comedic and dramatically satisfying way. Writer/director Anna Muylaert knows how to play all her cards right, including careful mise en scene to distinguish the dichotomies between class and their spaces. The film is a whisper with its quiet drama, but its implications are loud, striking a tender chord.

8/10

Organic film, the kind where everything fits and grows with the viewer so the lights come on, It is a work to be revered. Ana Muylaert builds a narrative that speaks of class relationship, the role of women in society as a mother, daughter, professional, also speaks of social segregation and changes in the Brasil in these two decades of democracy. It is a simple film, but not for everyone - does not have the appeal of globofilmes comedies, twists, striking scenes - it's all very subtle and sensitive.

Spent most of the time in an upper middle class mansion, the rooms it is also almost characters. From the kitchen to the guest room, the director gives meaning to the spaces, to the pool, to objects, to food. Veteran Regina Case plays Val, maid sleeping in the closet maid, knowing their place in the world, while the daughter, played by newcomer Camila Mardia, recently coming from the northeast to take entrance exams for architecture, it is a pioneering, a sentient , a citizen.

Award at the Berlin Film Festival and Sundance, What Time, surprisingly, is making blockbuster in European countries and pointed out by specialist as probable nominated for the Oscar. It's a cracker too, in my view, to reach the general public. I hope you get it. It is on my list of best films of the year and will be on the list of many influential critics around the world.

Regina Case gives a heartfelt performance as the maid to a rich and rather snobby family – and as the mother to her long lost daughter. It is after the daughter reunites with the mother after a long ten year absence (not clearly explained) that the wheels of this film really start to churn to generate tension, but also immense warmth.

Even though the film does meander now and then – every scene with Regina Case as surrogate mother to her adopted household, especially the son, and the real mother of her daughter gives off an energy of feeling and vitality. It is beautiful to behold the radiation that emanates in all her scenes. And its' nice to walk out of a film with the milk of human kindness – a rarity these days.