Cristiano-A

The Bra, directed by Veit Helmer, is a silent, whimsical fable that feels like a gentle homage to the cinema of Jacques Tati. With no dialogue, the film relies entirely on visual humor, expressive acting, and meticulous attention to detail - trademarks of Tati's work in films like Playtime and Monsieur Hulot's Holiday.

Set in a small Azerbaijani village cut by railway tracks, the story follows Nurlan, a lonely train driver, as he searches for the owner of a blue bra caught on his locomotive. Much like Tati's characters, Nurlan moves through a world filled with eccentric figures and absurd situations, creating comedy not through punchlines, but through timing, space, and subtle physical gestures.

However, while Tati's films often satirised modernity and technology, The Bra leans more toward fairytale romance, with an innocence that might feel naïve or old-fashioned to some viewers.

For lovers of silent comedy and those who appreciate cinema as visual poetry, The Bra is a charming, if modest, experience. It's not as sharp or socially critical as Tati, but it shares his affection for the quiet comedy of everyday life.

How was it possible for Edgar Pera to make this horrible piece of filmmaking. He is an interesting director, responsible for A JANELA (MARYALVA MIX) or O BARÃO and here he is like a fish out of water. It is a dull film, full of stereotypes, with a ridiculous argument, a bad lighting and television rhythm. Even MORANGOS COM AÇUCAR must be better. VIRADOS DO AVESSO is similar to a television product, in the worst sense. It takes the soap opera actors, technicians and producers and vomit a low cost movie, for quick consuming. What was supposed to be a comedy of manners, a popular movie, has become a tragedy. What a pity!

What a pity that Asia Argento and Franco Nero had squandered his talent in this incomprehensible and boring movie. From the middle of it, we only want to end that anguish and stop the martyrdom of the viewer. As Luis Miguel Oliveira said, a movie where everyone anguishes much without the film give substance to that anxieties, obsessions and passions. A failure without remission. A movie that, I think, want to wager more in form rather than content, but the director does not have nails to play that guitar. An unsuccessful attempt of Fanny Ardant to enter the auteur cinema, putting aesthetics far ahead of the story. But that is not enough to accomplish the task.