Avenida Paulista

I agree with the reviewer of 19 January 2013. This series was much enjoyed by my friends and I, it felt like magic (and we did have discriminate tastes in art). I remember it very well acted, and very well directed, and the characters were rich (yes, big plus) and very intelligent and successful. The plot was mysterious, not predictable, yet plausible, and these are big pluses for such movies. I also fell in love with the musicality of the Portugese language spoken in Brazil.

I would very much like to see this series again, and see how it looks from so far away in space and time (though I no longer enjoy movies with plots too far away in the past that do not contain modern technology that can keep us all connected nowadays). Unfortunately, I could not find a way to see this TV series again, I would very much appreciate any suggestions.

I also strongly disagree with the policy of this site that makes me have to rumble for at least ten lines to publish my thoughts: why should I have to waste my time, and why should readers have to?

like Armand, I saw the series under the Romanian Comunist regime. with same fascination about a rich universe, with a smart story, different interests, which is not Dallas or Dinasty but a sort of circle of almighty people in a deep war. the lead character remains, in my memory, the Brazilian Portuguese. not only as language of dialogues. but as key to a world behind huge closed doors. a film who use, in wise way, clichés and portraits of characters and personal stories of success, revenge and protection of power. a film about money and family and rivalries. seductive and fascinating. for the music, buildings, clothes and atmosphere. and, sure, for the language.

for me,it remains magic. music, acting, buildings, intrigues. a series like many others. but fascinating in a gray Romania of last decade for Ceaușescu regime. a kind of window with Turkish silhouettes and a language like dark honey. a sparkle. characters, tension of relations between them, first images from a town so far than it can be slice of fairy tale more than street in Sao Paolo. and, sure, the evenings. around TV like in a strange rite of ambiguous religion. after years, only remembers. as crumbs from a cake or only as mark of its lines in cooking book. after years, it remains not a good/bad work, not basket for soap opera nuances but a myth. as part of an age. as piece of a past image.