Sexy
philtrums,
Fulsome
tantrums,
Unfulfilling
sex
The
Brazilian film Noite Vazia (1964) is variously but blandly retitled as ‘Eros’
or ‘Men and Women’ in English. Far more evocative, and more fitting, is the
direct translation: Empty Night.
Luisinho and
Nelson, two jaded playboys, prowl Sao Paolo searching for “something new” and
end up spending the night with high-end prostitutes Regina and Mara. Sounds
sexist and a snooze, but… there’s something there.
Luis and
Regina, the older pair, have a painfully tense anti-chemistry, like two
veterans from opposite sides of a war. They hate how much they recognize in
each other: bitter tongues, calloused hearts, boredom dulling their wits, age seeping
into their bodies. Luis says she’s #367. He counts. He would. Regina says he’s
#1800. But I doubt she counts.
Nelson and
Mara are less interesting, but at least for them there might still be hope.
Nelson’s inarticulate anger masks a sensitive soul, or maybe he’s just another
misogynist-in-the-making. Maybe I’m falling into the same trap as his prey: mistaking
him for deep and mysterious. Mara, meanwhile, is hopelessly unfit for her line
of work: she still feels pity for men, still cares whether they seek her out a
second time. But then again, her naïve longing (is the word ‘love’ ever spoken
in this film?) might be a lifeline of sorts.
There are
tons of little ups and down. Moments of emotion and humanity that, like weeds
coming up through pavement, still struggle to express themselves despite a lack
of sustenance. Rudolf Icsey’s velvety, inky cinematography provides little
sunlight. Rogerio Duprat’s skittish, jaggy bossa nova is hostile soil.
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| Mirrors and male gaze. |
Two scenes
are almost perfect.
A teenage
bellboy tries to break in, looking for a place to make out with his timid
girlfriend and assuming the suite to be unoccupied for the night. Luis,
initially outraged, awkwardly invites the couple to join them. The girl bolts.
The boy follows, less certain of what he’s escaping. From their balcony, the four
leads watch them reunite in the street, upset with each other, out of hearing. A
lot is running through their heads, across their faces: nostalgia, mockery,
envy.
 |
| Noite Vazia reminds me how much I miss filmmakers who know how to do deep compositions. Almost nobody, appropriately enough, is on the same plane. The girl hides from the moment. The plant fits perfectly. |
Late in the night
the two couples wake up to a storm. Without words they strips off their clothes
and walk out into the rain. It is arguably the film’s most erotically charged scene.
It is the only time they experience the sensual pleasure they only pantomime in
the bedroom. They can only drifts indolently downhill from there.
The film
ends with minor acrimony and a return to lonely routine. Any one of them could
have learned something, but they’ve chosen not to. And that’s perhaps the film’s
most telling observation.
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| Odete Lara, if you can't bring in some Google image search hits, nobody can. |
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