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CASA DE AREIA (‘HOUSE OF SAND) is a masterpiece of filmmaking from Brazil. Written by Elena Soarez and Luis Carlos Barreto the record seems more a magical metaphor than a yarn of exact life – until the film concludes and the immediacy and universality of the messages haunt the viewer’s mind for hours. It is a film directed by Andrucha Waddington with a cast of great actors but the focus of the film, the films central character, is the bleak isolation of the sweeping desert of Northern Brazil.

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The film opens in 1910 with a caravan of wind swept characters appearing in the distance of the dunes of the desert, a group of wayfarers apparently escaping the poverty of the bog city to secure a home of their gain, land that can be called something that belongs to them. They are led by Vasco de Sá (Ruy Guerra) and his wife Áurea (Fernanda Torres) and her mother Dona Maria (Fernanda Montenegro), both of whom plead with Vasco to let them return to the poverty of the city instead of being forced to attempt to exist in the sands of the windy desert. Vasco is positive, builds a house, forces the women to live there and the others to pitch tents to exist. Áurea becomes pregnant, Vasco is confronted by the dependable owners of the land led by Massu (Seu Jorge), and must trade his possessions to remain in his ‘home’, a home which crashes around him leaving Vasco expressionless and Áurea and Dona Maria to fend for themselves. The others desert the two women and the women regain their only aid in Massu.

Time passes slowly (to 1919) and the changing sands launch to bury the house. Áurea, now a mother of a daughter Maria (Camilla Facundes), finds a telescope and sets out to spy if she can bag its owner and a design out of the desert. She encounters a group of scientists photographing the solar eclipse, a group protected by Luiz (Enrique Díaz) who bonds with Áurea, has a night affair with her, and then promises to win Áurea, her passe mother Dona Maria, and her young daughter Maria to the city. Áurea sets out for her house only to earn it now covered with a dune, her mother unimaginative and her daughter Maria traumatized: the chance for flee is gone.

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We proceed to 1942 and daughter Maria is now a woman (played by Fernanda Montenegro) who has bonded with Massu (now played by Luiz Melodia) and her sensual daughter Maria (played by Fernanda Torres) are aloof waiting for the return of Luiz. The older Luiz (Stênio Garcia) returns and Maria seduces him, even though Luiz knows she is his ragged lover’s daughter. He returns to the house, meets the ‘Áurea/Maria’ he loved and ultimately agrees to prefer the younger Maria to the city: the older Maria elects to halt with Massu. Again time leaps to 1970 and the younger Maria in hippie outfit drives out to gape her mother (both Marias are now played by Fernanda Montenegro) and the reunion of hopes and dreams of over 60 years are realized in a manner that brings the film to a haunting conclusion.

The cast is extraordinarily graceful, blending into the movement of nature and symbolizing the elements of admire, longing, loneliness, destiny, and survival. The repeated consume of the two major actresses is a stroke of genius: we are caught up in the intuitive plan of all the manifestations of these two women over time as they change roles not only as actresses but also as blending characters.

In a glowing touch of genius, the films credits are rolled as Brazilian pianist Nelson Friere plays the Chopin ‘Raindrop Prelude’. It is a intelligent ending to a resplendent film. Highly recommended. In Portuguese with English subtitles. Grady Harp, December 06

Epic is often something we attribute to lengthy films or ones that have a cast of nearly a hundred or more. LAWRENCE OF ARABIA (1962) quick comes to mind. It had an all-star cast and a race time of over 220 minutes. DOCTOR ZHIVAGO (1965) is another, clocking in at fair over 190 minutes. Then there’s the more novel “epics” such as GLADIATOR (2000) that comes in at 171 minutes.

But speed times are only a allotment of what makes an chronicle an yarn. THE HOUSE OF SAND runs well under two hours (115 minutes), but spans multiple generations, covering over 60 years. And although The House of Sand teeters on the verge epic-ness, it misses the sign …but only by a hair.

Visually breathtaking, The House of Sand focuses on the lives of three generations of women. The first generation is forced into a slight known desert plot of Brazil where a man named Vasco (Ruy Guerra) leads a ragtag group of settlers on a quest for land to call their maintain. With him comes his wife Aurea (Fernanda Torres), a young woman of an arranged marriage. Also with him is Aurea’s mother, Maria (Fernanda Montenegro) . The group of settlers like a flash learn the inhospitable nature of the status and all of them sail, except for Vasco, Aurea, and Maria. But Vasco soon dies in an accident, leaving the mother/daughter team to fend for themselves. Luckily, there’s a group of ragged slaves eking out an existence nearby. Massu (Seu Jorge) is one of these tough ex-slaves, and he takes a liking to Aurea (as do several other men who live or happen upon this sandy spot) .

As time passes, Maria falls in treasure with the dunes and the simplicity of the space. But Aurea begs to leave. She wants for the excitement of a city with people her contain age. Several options for freeing herself from the boredom of the sand appear and honest as hasty evaporate, stranding her year after year in the desolation. One time, however, a young officer in the Brazilian Army visits the region with scientists who are marking an eclipse of the sun, and a hastily one-night-stand results in a pregnancy. The officer leaves and Aurea is once again stuck in this location. Her daughter (Maria) grows and looks exactly like Aurea. And as Aurea ages, she has a striking resemblance to her mother, Maria. Roles regain reversed after Aurea’s mother’s death in a sand scramble. Aurea must now be the responsible mother to her daughter Maria. But Maria’s life in this region is adding up to zero. Sound familiar?

The circular pattern of family has been done before, but never on par with this. The sweeping vistas, aloof yet constantly shifting sands, and the pressing of dunes on everything (including the women’s relationships) accomplish this film a very profitable tale. But not a mountainous one.

The short hurry time forces two snappily decade leaps that are, to say the least, jarring and confusing. Also, the valid cinematography lingered unbiased a bit too long on occasion whenever sweeping scenery presented itself (“Yeah, that’s handsome …tranquil exquisite …yep, peaceful expansive …is it calm on the cover? “)

This is one of director Andrucha Waddington’s first feature length films and one can’t befriend but be impressed by his able hands on the helm. It is a aesthetic portion of cinema that needed unprejudiced a few touch-ups in order to be “Chronicle.”
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