Amidst the anticipation of the Academy Awards in three categories—Best International Feature Film, Best Actress (Fernanda Torres), and Best Picture—Brazil is already in a World Cup state of mind, even though the tournament is still a year away. Latin America stands on the brink of a historic milestone, but this moment also revives a wound—Gwyneth Paltrow’s 1999 Oscar victory over our national treasure and royalty of dramaturgy, Fernanda Montenegro. Adding weight to the occasion is the recent passing of Cacá Diegues, a pillar of Cinema Novo, on February 14th. He captured the contradictions of a nation caught between beauty and brutality. But Diegues' spirit is far from gone. His legacy pulses through contemporary Brazilian cinema, most notably in I'm Still Here (Walter Salles, 2024).
Cinema Novo emerged in Brazil during the 1960s and 1970s as a unique fusion of France's New Wave and Italy's Neorealism. It marked a departure from traditional storytelling, blending the subversive spirit of the French New Wave with the denunciatory themes of Italian Neorealism. In stark contrast to mainstream Brazilian cinema, which was dominated by musicals, comedies, and Hollywood-style epics, Cinema Novo delved into the harsh realities of Brazilian society. It illuminated marginalized communities such as the favelas (urban slums) and sertão (rural hinterlands), bringing their stories to the forefront and challenging societal norms.
Cinema Novo aimed to critique the artificiality and alienation of foreign cinema by confronting the issues of underdevelopment. Despite limited technical resources, filmmakers enjoyed creative freedom, guided by the motto "A camera in hand and an idea in mind." This freedom manifested in the movement's distinct characteristics: simple or natural settings, static imagery, minimal dialogue, and the use of non-professional actors—elements that lent the films an authentic, raw quality and facilitated social and political commentary.
The early phase of Cinema Novo (1960-1964) focused on intense rural settings, particularly the sertão, highlighting social issues affecting the working class. Themes of hunger, violence, religious alienation, and economic exploitation were portrayed with fatalism and stoicism. Cinema Novo gained prominence under progressive presidents like Juscelino Kubitschek and João Goulart, whose influence permeated Brazilian culture. However, 1964 marked a pivotal moment with the onset of the Brazilian Years of Lead, a 21-year-long military dictatorship characterized by authoritarianism, human rights abuses, political persecution, and cultural censorship. Despite the oppressive climate, Cinema Novo persisted as a vehicle for social critique, reflecting the political turmoil of the era.
As the military dictatorship tightened its grip (1964-1968), Cinema Novo filmmakers began to lose faith in the movement’s initial promise of protecting civil rights. In response to increased repression, films from this period adopted more subtle, allegorical approaches, drawing inspiration from the emerging Tropicalismo movement. This phase eventually gave rise to Cinema Marginal (1968-1973), which embraced a more experimental and subversive aesthetic, breaking from the conventions of commercial cinema. Filmmakers explored marginalized themes with low-budget production techniques, challenging censorship norms and pushing the boundaries of creative freedom.
Cacá Diegues’ early career, like that of many filmmakers of his generation, was marked by political works, social concerns, and the vibrant aesthetics of Tropicalismo. However, as repression deepened under the military dictatorship, Diegues turned to metaphor and satire to critique the establishment, often through references to Brazilian music, dance, and folklore. While his films maintained a focus on socio-economic inequality and class conflict, they also began incorporating a more symbolic and whimsical tone.
Embrafilme, the Brazilian government agency created in 1969 to oversee the film industry during the dictatorship, played a significant role in shaping Brazilian cinema. Though originally intended to promote the industry amid censorship, Embrafilme provided vital financial support to filmmakers, ensuring the production and international distribution of Brazilian films. However, the agency's eventual dissolution in 1990 marked the end of an era for state-sponsored cinema in Brazil.
Parallel to Embrafilme, the 1970s saw the rise of pornochanchada, a genre blending eroticism and low-budget urban comedy. Though often escapist, pornochanchada films were not without substance, and many subtly critiqued the social and political realities of the time.
The 1980s and early 1990s were a dark period for Brazilian cinema, with almost no production, an explosion of anglophone blockbusters, inflation crises, and the Collor government leading to the closure of Embrafilme. Yet, the 1985 Diretas Já movement, which demanded direct presidential elections, marked the start of Brazil’s return to democracy, culminating in the election of the country’s first directly elected president in over two decades.
This political shift would eventually lead to the Retomada period (1995-2002), during which Brazilian cinema saw a revival, aided by the creation of the Audiovisual Law and the restructuring of Embrafilme.
However, despite these gains, the 2010s saw Brazil once again at the mercy of an unsympathetic government, with Jair Bolsonaro’s presidency (2018-2023) leaving lasting scars on the country’s cultural landscape. His rejection of the military dictatorship’s legacy, his neglect of the arts, the 2021 fire at the institution responsible for preserving Brazilian audiovisual production, and his controversial stances on minorities contributed to a climate of cultural regression. Yet, in the wake of this turmoil, I’m Still Here (Walter Salles, 2024) emerging as a cultural phenomenon, offering a glimpse of hope amid the chaos.
Nelson Rodrigues, the Brazilian writer, coined the term "Mongrel Complex" to describe a pervasive sense of inferiority many Brazilians feel when comparing their culture to those of the developed world. Rodrigues portrays Brazilians as "backwards Narcissus"—a people who denigrate their own identity despite no valid historical justification. This self-inflicted inferiority is one of Brazil's most significant cultural challenges.
While I’m Still Here has garnered praise on its own right with a 1970s teleportation and bittersweet nostalgia aesthetics within' Rio de Janeiro. The use of a Super 8 camera, and the grain and hues of 35mm with a soundtrack that matches with the atmosphere. A golden memory based on Marcelo Rubens Paiva’s memoir and Walter Salles’ early years in the Paiva household, it taps into the idea of saudosismo. Saudosismo isn't just nostalgia but a cultural feeling of longing for an idealized past, whether it's personal or societal.
It is worth noting that the film’s focus on the Paiva family—a privileged, white family—overlooks the nation’s melting pot of cultures, social classes, and histories. The depiction of the working class, especially through Zezé (Pri Helena), the family's housemaid, feels shallow. As she steps in to manage the household following Rubens' disappearance and Eunice’s imprisonment, the film skims over the complexity of her character. The struggles of the working class, who endured the terror of the period more quietly and with far greater intensity, are given scant attention, perpetuating the silence surrounding Brazil’s deep socio-economic disparities and the minority marginal groups.
This dynamic is also influenced by the director’s own perspective: Walter Salles hails from a privileged family in Rio de Janeiro, which contrasts sharply with Cacá Diegues’ background in Maceió, Alagoas. One is a child of a banker’s family, while the other is a fruit from a farmer and anthropologist.
While the Rio-São Paulo axis has dominated the Brazilian audiovisual industry, filmmakers such as Kleber Mendonça Filho, Karim Aïnouz, and Gabriel Mascaro, as well as the rise of internet platforms, have helped decentralize creation across the country. Yet, despite these strides, deep inequalities persist—many parts of Brazil still lack internet access, and the algorithm still filters our voices.
Brazilian media often stagnates in stereotypical portrayals of the Northeastern region, Diegues' homeland. Rather than celebrating the rich cultural diversity of the region, many films continue to perpetuate outdated stereotypes and use of Brazilian yellowface, especially those of the Caatinga, rural life, and banditry. This misrepresentation reflects deep-seated prejudices rather than embracing the true depth of Brazil’s cultural heritage.
Cacá Diegues leaves behind more than just films—he leaves a vision of Brazil. Cinema Novo was never merely about cinema; it was a call to witness, to resist, to tell the stories that matter. I’m Still Here may not fully embody the radicalism of his generation, but its success proves that Brazil's hunger for stories of identity, power, and struggle remains unshaken. As long as filmmakers like Walter Salles continue to grapple with these questions, Diegues’ vision will never truly fade. Though, there’s still a battle between massive anglophone dominance and the growing disparity between supply and demand abroad. In Brazil, we’re born with novelas in our blood, yet even our beloved telenovelas are facing decline—once watched by a hundred million, now struggling to keep ninety million viewers.
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