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.

A considerably better day at TIFF this time around thanks to the lack of delays and other logistical nightmares, but the festival’s troubles are starting to be felt. The comments today from people all around town were critical of the way things have been run so far. Hopefully the rest of TIFF will improve on its rocky start, but let’s get to the movies.

Tabu has been getting a reputation as a silent film (or just partly silent) since its Berlin premiere, but it isn’t true. The second half of the film has no dialogue (but sound effects are still present) but it’s dominated by a voice over running throughout the entire thing. Hopefully the second half won’t turn people off from watching Tabu since it’s a gorgeous piece of work and my favourite film at the festival so far. Miguel Gomes, shooting in black and white and 4×3, creates some truly beautiful moments. The first half, which follows a character obsessed with films and other people’s lives, is my favourite part of Tabu with Teresa Madruga doing an excellent job as Pilar. The well-known second half, shot on 16mm, operates as the kind of film Pilar would usually watch. The African landscapes in this half are beautiful to look at, and Gomes directs it with a huge level of enthusiasm. A romantic film about lost love and classic cinema, Tabu is definitely worth seeking out.

RATING: 7.5/10

Tabu

Next up was Amour, the big Palme D’or winner and front-runner for the Foreign Film Oscar. As a huge fan of Michael Haneke, Amour was a step down from his previous film The White Ribbon. This is definitely Haneke’s most ‘human’ film yet, but don’t expect him to soften up. We start out with an old couple living a happy life until the wife has a stroke. From then on it turns into scene after scene of degradation as the husband has to take care of his wife while she slowly dies. There are powerful moments throughout Amour, but Haneke’s cold, precise style doesn’t work well enough. This definitely feels like a mainstreaming on Haneke’s part, and there is little of the thought-provoking content that’s easy to find in his previous films. Amour is definitely a good film, but I’m judging this on the scale of Haneke’s previous films where it just doesn’t stand up.

RATING: 7/10

Amour

While I waited for my last film of the night I decided to rush 90 Minutes, a new Norwegian film. Things got off to a good start with some nice camerawork and its ominous introductions to the three storylines in the film, but the feeling quickly went away. 90 Minutes clearly wants to be a provocative movie, which we see when a sex scene covered by a doorway cuts to the bedroom to reveal (shock!) that the woman on the bed is tied up and badly beaten. But that’s not all, as the camera cuts back further to reveal (double shock!) a baby in the same room. And just to make sure the film’s message is understood, the scene dissolves to a shot of people walking in a busy intersection. If the director opted to just cut to a title card that said SOCIETY instead I’m sure it would have saved her some money while giving the same impact. The other two stories don’t leave anything worth looking back over. At one point in the film a character describes an art piece that’s pointless because it shows how the human mind is limitless. I’m sure the scene was meant to sum up what 90 Minutes is about, but probably not in the way the director wanted.

RATING: 5/10

90 Minutes

Finally I checked out the Midnight Madness film No One Lives. This is the return of Japanese director Ryuhei Kitamura who last made the underrated Midnight Meat Train. Unfortunately, this is not a triumphant return for Kitamura, as No One Lives is a pretty stupid movie. Most of the blame is on the writing, which is filled with such atrocious dialogue that no one could make it remotely passable (key example: someone sees their friend’s truck with the tires slashed and says ‘Something isn’t right!’). Luke Evans delivers most of his lines with the charisma of a 2×4, but luckily the awkward first act makes way for the carnage that makes up the rest of the film. Evans plays a psychopath who has his kidnapped victim unwittingly taken by a group of amateur robbers (they steal his car, not knowing that a girl is locked up in the trunk). It’s when these robbers realize exactly who they’re dealing with that No One Lives becomes a lot more entertaining. Kitamura directs some hilariously disgusting scenes, with one involving a hiding spot that’s too good to spoil. Unfortunately, that’s where the fun ends, as the eccentric violence can’t elevate this beyond the DTV (or should I say DTVOD) trash it truly is.

RATING: It would have been a 3 or 4, but the insanity bumps it to a 5/10

No One Lives

NEXT UP: I try to muster enough strength to finish the weekend with two 2+ hour epics. One being Cloud Atlas and the other Sion Sono’s Land of Hope.

Recap of some of my Tweets from today:

Follow @WayTooIndie for full coverage of the 2012 Toronto International Film Festival!

TABU is a well-done love story. Gorgeously shot and romantic. Excellent music as well. #TIFF12

— Way Too Indie (@WayTooIndie) September 8, 2012

Filling in for AMOUR #TIFF12 twitter.com/WayTooIndie/st…

— Way Too Indie (@WayTooIndie) September 8, 2012

AMOUR: Good, but far from Haneke’s best. Simple case of his style not matching the subject matter.

— Way Too Indie (@WayTooIndie) September 9, 2012

90 MINUTES: says nothing interesting at all because it has been done before. Bland.

— Way Too Indie (@WayTooIndie) September 9, 2012

NO ONE LIVES: A terrible script elevated by Kitamura’s insanity. There’s no reason why this guy had to stop making movies #TIFF12

— Way Too Indie (@WayTooIndie) September 9, 2012