Inquietude (1998) - ★★★ (Remarkable)
AKA Anxiety, dir. Manoel de Oliveira
While this turned out not to be the last Manoel de Oliveira film I still hadn't seen, - it seems that I've still to watch at least three of them - it'll be hard for the remaining few to top this one in terms of quality, be it the lustrous, humbly aesthetic cinematography most exemplified in the last story, or narrative brilliance that it sports in its first third. The second story is a little bit of both, connecting the two stories with the character played by the illustrious Spanish actor Luís Miguel Cintra, de Oliveira's regular. Inquietude is an intriguing film because it betrays de Oliveira's two greatest strengths: verbose journeys into the world of literary adaptations and remarkable aesthetic sense.
Manoel de Oliveira is a special filmmaker. Not only a great auteur (one of Portugal's greatest, though there's no denying this rather small country has a cornucopia of incredible auteurs, from Paulo Rocha to Margarida Cordeiro, to João César Monteiro, to Pedro Costa, to Miguel Gomes, to Rita Azevedo Gomes) but also a centenarian who could direct a great movie at the age of 23 (Labor on the Douro River in 1931) as well as 106 (The Old Man of Belem in 2014). Which other director achieved that? Maybe Kaneto Shindo comes close save for two decades (the first film in 1951, the last in 2010).
There is a scene in this film where Leonor Baldaque, playing a country girl who discovers her fingertips are made of gold, sits on a bench and looks in the distance like a woman from a Baroque painting. The natural light of the sun illuminates her photogenic face, revealing its contours and expressions, its grace and mystery. She is joined by de Oliveira's grandson Ricardo Trêpa, playing her boyfriend, who gazes ahead, into the distance. They are both touched by the light that connects them, the light that is the source of beauty.
This scene brings to mind the greatest profundity to be found in the works of Straub- Huillet, the filmmakers who devoted their lives to capturing the essence of Communist materialism through near-spiritual means. Like Straub-Huillet, de Oliveira uses his camera as a tool of revelation, as a way of accessing the hidden dimensions of reality. But he doesn't make the mistake of the French duo of mixing humble aesthetics and prolix dialogues or proclamations. The first story of the film is the most talky but also the least visually attractive. The last has the least talking of them all but emanates visual beauty.
At this point, I'd love to rewatch the film just so that I could focus on the initial two-thirds of it. But the last story, and how it achieves eternal beauty full of humility and grace is everything I can think (and talk) about right now. The Portuguese maestro creates a dialogue between the past and the present, between the human and the divine, between the material and the immaterial. He seeks to restore a lost art of portraying both body and soul, an art that respects the beauty of film (not digital), beauty (not prettiness), and Light (not darkness), an art that challenges and inspires senses.
De Oliveira’s visuals are more naturalistic and less artificial than those of Eugène Green, another filmmaker who manages to achieve a similar grace in his mise en scène. Green talks about the Light. De Oliveira shows the Light. And he does it so subtly that you might very well miss it. Even though I just compared the two great auteurs of cinema, De Oliveira does not rely on overtly stylized gestures or lifeless performances to convey his vision. His approach is much more balanced.
This was my 37th de Oliveira film. It makes me want to rewatch those of his oeuvre that I saw years ago. Especially Abraham's Valley, which, in hindsight, is probably my favorite of his. But also Francisca, Doomed Love, The Satin Slipper, The Cannibals, The Divine Comedy, The Letter, A Talking Picture, and Magic Mirror, all of which are singular works of art.
I wish more directors made films like this. Shot films like this. Made films that make me feel like this.
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