We plunge into the second volume of Miguel Gomes‘ Arabian Nights without the introductory support of prologues. Only the familiar yellow titles remind us that what we’re about to see is not an adaptation, but an inspiration. Told through fictionalized accounts of actual events that occurred in Portugal between 2013 and 2014, events which left many citizens even more impoverished than before. As soon as The Desolate One ended, only a few fully formed thoughts rose out of the rubble left of my mind. Namely, I silently thanked the director for dividing Arabian Nights into three volumes, for it would be highly detrimental to the overall experience if the audience were tasked with watching all six hours in one sitting.

Partitioned into individual stories—some with multiple narrative tangents of their own—the cinematic wealth of information in Arabian Nights is best digested in fragmented doses. The Desolate One, with its three vastly varied reflections of soul-squeezing desolation, might turn out to be the most emblematic of this richness. A point which—unless I find Volume 3 to be some otherworldly masterpiece—no doubt played a part in selecting this particular volume as Portugal’s Oscar entry for Best Foreign Language Film. For even the most emotionally barren tale here, about a reclusive villager of ill-repute on the run from local authorities, is draped in pensive mystery and fried in sun-dried humor. Simao (Chico Chapas) is a son of a bitch, and part of a population of people who are rarely represented on screen. Throughout his story, Gomes constantly pits our perceptions of him and his actions (often bizarre but harmless) with legendary rumors of evil and violence about him, including the reason why the authorities are hounding him. It’s a story of evil full of curiosities, imbued in the kind of lonesomeness found under the surface of so many Westerns.

The second story, with a Judge (Luísa Cruz, pulling off the most memorable performance in Arabian Nights so far) presiding over a case that gets ridiculously out of hand is, in all respects, an intense masterpiece of imagination. Arabian Nights hits the peak of its seductive powers in ‘The Tears of the Judge’ from the increasingly bizarre buildup of crimes and passive-aggressive blame-avoidance and Sayombhu Mukdeeprom’s purplish tinctures cinematography which adds to the phantasmagoria in the air. This chapter is the epicenter of the entire piece. The Portuguese court system gets a fantastical make-over in this story; a smorgasbord of cultures, traditions, time periods, and social classes. It’s bonkers magic realism with an endless lifespan, peppered with mercurial humor, and momentous beyond words.

The third and final tale in The Desolate One immediately recalls Gomes’ beautiful Tabu, thanks to the familiar faces of Isabel Muñoz Cardoso and Teresa Madruga. Centered around a block of apartments, ‘The Owners of Dixie’ is in the lonely spirit of Simao’s story, yet it borrows heavily from the imaginative streak from in the previous chapter. A woman finds a mysterious dog which uncannily resembles her old one, and gives it to her friends in an effort to add some joy into their depressing lives. The dog goes from owner to owner, and is the adorable witness to a perceptible sense of nostalgia and dilapidated human spirit, held delicately together by that strange little thing called love.

My mind turned to rubble by the end because it completely succumbed to the film’s undeniable charms. The Desolate One continues where The Restless One left off, building a bridge from literature to cinema. And in more ways than one, this chapter of Scheherazade’s storytelling edges closer to the cinematic end of that bridge. As an art form that envelops all others unto itself. It’s similar to a piece of classical music; here’s the midsection that’s more abstract, more contemplative, and slower in sinking in, but only because it’s slightly more profound in execution and style than what came before. With its mesmeric mixture of genres and moods, a superb screenplay and inspirational camera work and composition (naked Brazilian ladies sunbathing on the rooftop, in one jaw-dropping shot), The Desolate One may just be the most haunting movement of Gomes’ glorious, deeply melancholic, symphony. The Enchanted One is the next and final volume, but it’s already clear that we’re in the midst of the director’s magnum opus.

Originally published on October 1st, 2015 as part of our coverage for the New York Film Festival.

Right on the heels of two successful films that paid respect to the history of cinema, The Artist and Hugo, Tabu receives its title from the final film from one of cinema’s great romantics, F.W. Murnau, and serves as a love letter to the era. Critic-turned-filmmaker Miguel Gomes serves up a charming third feature, though fully appreciating the film requires some patience.

Part one is entitled Paradise Lost and follows a woman named Pilar (Teresa Madruga) who seeks company from anyone she can. The fact that she never manages to crack a smile, suggests that her life is rather gloomy. All that is known about her is that she is a practicing Catholic who spends time protesting outside the U.N. and enjoys watching cinema. When a Polish backpacker cancels plans to stay with her, Pilar spends more time with her elderly neighbor Aurora (in this part played by Laura Soveral). It is clear that Aurora has a gambling problem when she asks Pilar to pick her up from the casino after she runs out of funds. But her addiction is not what is alarming; Aurora’s mental state is declining, to the point that she is admitted to the hospital. Her last request is to have Pilar track down her former lover, Gian Luca Ventura (Henrique Espirto Santo).

When Pilar meets up with Ventura over coffee the film seamlessly transitions into its second part, appropriately named Paradise. During this half of the film, no actual dialog is spoken by the characters. Though it is not considered to be a silent film as it is narrated by the elderly Ventura who recalls the story of how he and Aurora first met. Also present are subtle ambient background noises such as birds chirping or water trickling, that provide a layer of texture.

After learning about the young Aurora (played by Ana Moreira), her senile outbursts about being in Africa and her talk of crocodiles suddenly make more sense to Pilar. It is confirmed that she actually did live in Mozambique and that she found a baby crocodile that she adopted as her pet. Her gambling problem later in life was inherited from her father who first suffered the addiction.

More details unfold about how Aurora and Ventura first met and it becomes clear that the heart of the story regards the forbidden nature of their romance. The two were separated by the different Portuguese social circles they ran with. Aurora was married, wealthy and pregnant and Ventura was part of a rock n’ roll band with the personality to match. Despite the doomed nature of their love, they held tightly to the love they felt for one another.

Tabu is incredibly well-written, and for better or for worse, no detail is left out. Background details are given to characters that do not seem all that important, especially in the first half of the film. It can be a lot to take in for such a simple love story but thanks to Gomes’ visually compelling filmmaking, the film is absolutely beautiful to watch.

Compositions of the rugged African wilderness are second to none, capturing the farming fields and distant mountains of Mozambique. Through the use of black and white photography in a 1:37:1 aspect ratio combined with being shot on 16mm, the film pays homage to 1950’s cinema. Gorgeous shots ranging from a blistering African sun to a cloudy downpour of rain, set the tone of the film with a sharp contrast of atmosphere and emotion.

Tabu, while comprised of two distinct parts that could easily be separate films, weaves it’s stories together to make one whole, told backwards to great affect. The majority of time is spent following Pilar in the beginning as she represents a movie audience, looking to fulfill the mundanity of her life with something cinematic. Her life is given the dramatic romance she craves as for both her and the audience, Aurora’s vibrant past comes to life.