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Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator
Is Risos e Lágrimas worth watching today? Short answer: absolutely, for those who appreciate the raw, unpolished heart of early 20th-century Brazilian cinema, but it will undoubtedly test the patience of viewers accustomed to modern pacing and narrative conventions.
This film is a poignant, if somewhat uneven, journey into the soul of a bygone era's artistic struggles, making it essential viewing for cinephiles interested in historical context and character-driven drama. However, it is decidedly not for audiences seeking rapid-fire plots, high-octane action, or clear-cut resolutions.
Genofre Werneck’s Risos e Lágrimas, a title that translates to 'Laughter and Tears,' promises a delicate balance of human experience, and for the most part, it delivers. Released at a time when Brazilian cinema was still finding its distinct voice, the film stands as a fascinating artifact, a testament to the ambitions and limitations of its period. It attempts to capture the full spectrum of emotion, often within the span of a single scene, an undertaking that is both its greatest strength and its most noticeable weakness.
The narrative, centered on a struggling theatre troupe, is a familiar one, yet Werneck imbues it with a distinctly local flavor. The dusty roads, the makeshift stages, the faces of the provincial audiences—all contribute to an atmosphere that feels both universal in its themes of artistic struggle and uniquely Brazilian in its execution. It’s a compelling snapshot of a time when entertainment was a more intimate, immediate affair.
This film works because of its unflinching honesty in portraying the artist's life, its rich ensemble performances, and its audacious attempt to meld two disparate emotional registers into a cohesive whole. It fails because of its occasionally meandering pace, its tendency towards melodramatic excess, and a narrative structure that sometimes loses focus. You should watch it if you are a student of early cinema, a lover of character studies, or someone who appreciates stories that don't shy away from life's inherent messiness.
The ensemble cast of Risos e Lágrimas is the beating heart of the film. Luiz Gonzaga Martins, as the troupe's director João, delivers a performance that oscillates between inspiring leadership and profound despair. His portrayal is a masterclass in controlled chaos, a man perpetually on the brink, yet always finding the strength to push his troupe forward. There's a particularly harrowing scene where he confronts a creditor, his face a mask of strained dignity, that lingers long after the credits roll. It is a moment of brutal simplicity.
Túlia Burlini, as the burgeoning actress, provides a captivating counterpoint. Her character’s journey from wide-eyed ingenue to world-weary performer is charted with a subtlety that belies the era’s often broader acting styles. Her quiet moments of reflection, particularly after a devastating performance in a small town, are far more impactful than any grand soliloquy. She grounds the film’s more theatrical impulses with a quiet, resonant humanity.
Even the supporting cast, including N. Jacobson and Aldo Rine, contribute significantly, each creating distinct, memorable characters within the troupe. Jacobson’s comedic timing offers genuine moments of levity, providing much-needed relief from the pervasive melancholy. Rine, on the other hand, embodies the cynical pragmatism that often clashes with João’s idealism, adding a layer of internal conflict that feels utterly authentic. Their interactions feel less like scripted dialogue and more like overheard conversations, a testament to the raw talent on display.
Genofre Werneck’s direction, while occasionally uneven, demonstrates a clear vision for the film’s emotional landscape. He’s not afraid to let scenes breathe, allowing the actors to explore the depths of their characters. There’s a deliberate rhythm to the storytelling, a slow burn that builds towards emotional climaxes rather than rushing them. This approach, while challenging for modern viewers, allows for a more immersive experience, pulling you into the troupe’s day-to-day struggles and triumphs.
The cinematography, though constrained by the technology of its time, manages to evoke a palpable sense of place and mood. The use of natural light in many of the outdoor scenes lends an authenticity that is striking. One particular sequence, featuring the troupe traveling along a dusty, sun-baked road, captures both their shared burden and their enduring spirit. The camera, often static, becomes an observant eye, allowing the drama to unfold within the frame without excessive manipulation.
However, there are moments when the camera work feels less inspired, particularly in some of the more intimate interior scenes, where the framing can feel a bit conventional. Yet, even these moments serve to highlight the film's overall commitment to a grounded realism, avoiding the stylistic flourishes seen in some contemporary European works like The Forbidden City, which often leaned into more expressionistic techniques. Werneck prioritizes clarity and emotional impact over visual spectacle.
The pacing of Risos e Lágrimas is perhaps its most divisive element. It is undeniably slow by today's standards, a methodical unfolding of events that demands patience. This deliberate speed allows for character development to occur organically, but it can also lead to stretches where the narrative momentum flags. The film takes its time, perhaps too much time, to fully establish the stakes for each character. It’s a film that asks you to settle in, not to rush.
The tonal shifts between 'laughter' and 'tears' are handled with a surprising degree of finesse, though not always with perfect seamlessness. The comedic moments, often provided by the troupe’s internal squabbles or their less-than-successful performances, are genuinely funny and serve as crucial breathers. The dramatic beats, however, are where the film truly shines, plumbing the depths of despair, betrayal, and resilience. One could argue that the dramatic weight often overshadows the comedic lightness, making the 'tears' feel more dominant than the 'laughter.'
This imbalance, while perhaps intentional, can sometimes make the film feel heavier than its title suggests. It’s a story of hardship punctuated by fleeting joys, rather than an equal partnership between the two. Unlike the more balanced tragicomedy of a film like Man by the Roadside, which expertly weaves its lighter moments into its darker fabric, Risos e Lágrimas often presents them as distinct, almost separate, entities.
Absolutely, but with caveats. Risos e Lágrimas offers a unique window into early Brazilian cinema and the universal struggles of artists. Its performances are often captivating, particularly from Luiz Gonzaga Martins and Túlia Burlini, who anchor the film with their raw emotionality. The film’s commitment to a grounded, human story is commendable, even if its pacing can be a challenge for contemporary audiences.
It’s a film that demands your attention, not just your casual viewing. It rewards patience with moments of profound insight and genuine emotional resonance. If you are willing to embrace its slower rhythm and occasional narrative detours, you will find a deeply rewarding experience. It's a testament to the enduring power of storytelling, even when the production values are modest.
One of the most striking, yet often overlooked, aspects of Risos e Lágrimas is its subtle commentary on the very nature of performance itself. The line between the actors' on-stage personas and their off-stage realities becomes increasingly blurred, suggesting that life itself is a grand, often tragic, theatrical production. There’s a meta-narrative at play, where the 'laughter and tears' aren't just what the troupe performs, but what they live.
Furthermore, the film’s depiction of the Brazilian countryside, often stark and unforgiving, serves as a silent, yet powerful, character. It’s not just a backdrop; it’s an active participant in the troupe’s struggles, mirroring their own harsh realities and the resilience required to simply exist. This environmental storytelling adds a layer of depth that many films of its era often neglected, focusing solely on human drama.
Risos e Lágrimas is a film that demands to be seen, not just watched. It’s a testament to the power of human spirit and the enduring allure of the stage, even when faced with overwhelming odds. Genofre Werneck, with the help of a dedicated cast, crafted a film that, despite its imperfections, resonates with an honest, heartfelt energy.
While it may not cater to every palate, particularly those accustomed to the slicker, faster narratives of contemporary cinema, its historical and emotional value is undeniable. It's a challenging watch, but one that offers profound rewards for those willing to engage with its deliberate pace and raw emotional landscape. It works. But it’s flawed. Yet, its flaws are often part of its charm, reflecting the very struggles it portrays. For anyone seeking a deeper understanding of early Brazilian cinema and the universal tale of art's enduring struggle, Risos e Lágrimas is an essential, if bittersweet, experience.
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