1959: Black Orpheus

Orfeu Negro/Black Orpheus (1959, Camus) 7/10


The Greek tragedy of Orpheus and his lover Eurydice is perhaps the most popular ancient fable in contemporary culture. Countless operas, a collection of poems by Rainier Maria Rilke, a play by Tennessee Williams and a present-day adaptation by Jean Cocteau are just a few of the varied transplantations of the Orpheus myth into modernity. One of the most celebrated adaptations is Marcel Camus’ 1959 film Orfeu Negro (Black Orpheus): winner of the Palme d’Or at the 1959 Cannes Film Festival, as well as Best Foreign Language awards at the Oscar, BAFTA and Golden Globe ceremonies. A Brazilian-French co-production, Orfeu Negro was adapted by Camus and Brazilian playwright Vinicius de Moraes from the latter’s play Orfeu da Conceição.

De Moraes play and Camus film place the Orpheus legend in a modern context. Set amongst the hillside favelas (slum communities) atop Rio de Janeiro during Carnival, the film tells the story of tram driver and playboy Orfeu (Breno Mello) who is pressured into marrying his girlfriend Mira (Lourdes de Oliveira). When the presiding legal clerk, in reference to the Greek myth, inquires whether Orfeu loves Eurydice, the dim-witted Mira angrily assumes there is another woman in his life. Incensed Mira and Orfeu return to the former’s hilltop shack, where Orfeu finds that his neighbour Serafina (Lea Garcia) has a visiting cousin who is fatefully named Eurydice (Marpessa Dawn).

Eurydice is a poor country girl who has fled to the city to hide from a man she believes wants to kill her. Orfeu attempts to placate her fears through his renowned singing and the two begin to secretly fall in love. But during the frenzied pre-Carnival ceremonies, Eurydice’s stalker returns dressed as an Angel of Death and informs Orfeu that they will soon meet again: resulting in a scenario in which Orfeu will relinquish his beloved Eurydice forever.

From its opening credits, there seems to be something wholly unique about Camus’ Black Orpheus. In the opening moments, a classical Greek frieze explodes to reveal a carnival-esque hilltop atmosphere highlighted by the saturated colours of Jean Bourgoin’s cinematography and the pulsating rhythms of Luiz Bonfa and Antonio Carlos Jobim’s samba score. Here a colourful joie de vivre reigns supreme amongst the poverty and the grassy pre-industrial enclaves: filling its residents with a captivating passion for life.

Yet, despite the stunning shots of Rio’s affluent districts, the mountains and the sea below, there is something highly unnerving about Camus’ film. The director’s photographic contrast of rural and contemporary Rio exemplifies the socio-economic shift produced by modernization in Brazil during the era of President Kubitschek: enabling feats such as development of the capital city of Brasilia. the construction of the National Congress of Brazil and the dramatic unequal distribution of wealth which dominates Brazil to this day.

Yet, through Bourgoin lens, Camus' film represents something more akin to a tourist board production complete with mandatory references to Carnival. With its lush colours, customary stereotypes and quaint, happy characters this could easily have been a product of the Hollywood studio system either as an adventurous short or a lavish, semi-indigneous production in the style of Otto Preminger’s Carmen Jones. The trappings of poverty including starvation, illness and crime are virtually non-existent in Camus’ film. Lawlessness in the favelas is replaced by a colourful tale of jealous jilted lovers set to the appealing backdrop of the Carnival season. And although he deploys non-professional actors in Black Orpheus, the inauthentic state of Camus’ film continues into his casting choices such as Marpessa Dawn, a professional dancer from Pittsburgh in the role of his naive, rural heroine Eurydice.

In his work on German cinema entitled Weimar Cinema and After, film historian Thomas Elsaesser has promoted the concept of cinematic “historical imaginary.” Although Elsaesser applied his research into notions of communal identity in Weimar Germany, one can see in his concept of an “imaginary” the building blocks for other imagined visual states, with perceived notions of national self replacing true identity politics. One could therefore argue that Camus’ status as an outsider has produced not the “real” Brazil that the patrons of Cinema Novo (the Brazilian New Wave) would later formalize in response to Black Orpheus, but rather an idealized Brazil based on Eurocentric assumptions and stereotypes concerning Carnival, the poor and Brazil’s African traditions.

Although Camus is able to induce a frenetic atmosphere to the proceedings, it is interesting to note how lethargic and stagnant the film’s visually vibrant opening quarter is in relation to the rest of the picture. While there is an intrinsic grace and movement to the film’s festive moments, there is also a distinct lack of fluidity in Bourgoin’s camerawork in capturing this physical magic. Thus, the film fluctuates between moments of choreographed brilliance such as Eurydice’s flight from her oppressor in Orfeu’s workplace and prosaic documentary-style Carnival footage: as though Bourgoin and Camus are unaware of how to capture the essence of the raw material in relation to the more structured traditional set-pieces.

Camus’ film subsequently operates on a smoother level when working within quasi-traditional settings: creating a potent blend of quasi-religious symbols and philosophical musings throughout Orfeu Negro. Several characters, including small children often speak to one another in eloquent philosophical language with classical overtones from the ancient Mediterranean world. However, the most dominant metaphor discussed and displayed in Camus’ film is the notion of heaven and hell. With its utopic kinship and greenery, the favelas are a source of heavenly bliss for several characters.

Although they meet earlier on the streets of Rio, it is in Serafina’s house that Orfeu and Eurydice truly connect and grow to love one another. The Carnival which operates at sea level becomes a metaphysical purgatory in which benign characters suffer for their sins: producing imprisonment, assault and death. Hell is found in the dimly-lit tunnels, morgues and blood-soaked hospital rooms where anguish remains eternal.

The remaining religious allusions in Black Orpheus appear to take on elements of New Age and voodoo, rather than traditional Christianity. Whereas the selfish Mira is hedonistic in her choices, Eurydice is a strong proponent of the zodiac: offering Orfeu a scarf adorned with the astrological signs. Orfeu himself appears to have been raised on indigenous folk tales and beliefs,as he convinces two small children that by playing his guitar he can make the sun rise in the morning. But as with his women, Orfeu is too fickle to adhere to anything too long. After being courted into an underground cellar, he asks a group of voodoo practioners to help him find his lost Eurydice. But when an elderly woman channels Eurydice’s spirit, Orfeu is unwilling to believe her or anybody else whom he cannot physically control or possess.

Orfeu Negro is also a film about identity. With its emphasis on masks and disguises, Carnival allows for a rare instance of social equalization. It is an outlet through which its participants can escape their impoverished homesteads and become whoever they wish to be. In Black Orpheus, idealized personality traits and interests come to the forefront in the choice of costume and attention to detail. Mira diguises herself as an 18th century courtesan which demonstrates her appreciation for high taste and her blatant materialism; Orfeu on the other hand is a majestic Roman warrior prepared to battle for his true love; while Eurydice is disguised in her cousin’s costume: analogously enhancing her inability to remain invisible for both loving eyes and hateful spirits.

Integral to the global success of Black Orpheus was the use of traditional Brazilian jazz. The seductive melodies of Bonfa and Jobim’s samba score replete with its whistles, drums and guitars added a sexy South American tinge to the picture and sparked an entire craze for Brazilian Jazz in Europe and North America: Astrud Gilberto and Stan Getz’ English language version of "Girl of Ipanema" being the greatest samba crossover of the period. The omnipresent music is arguably the film’s greatest legacy on modern culture today, as it still manages to breathe life and tempo in Camus’ film.

While time has not eradicated the charming exotic qualities of Orfeu Negro such as its score and suffused palette, it has dented the film’s naive sense of realism. The stereotyped settings, caricatured performances and stilted narrative have certainly taken away some of the film’s original allure which captivated audiences in the late Fifties whose images of South America were limited to musicals such as Down Argentine Way and Flying Down To Rio. Yet, in Camus' Brazilian imaginary there is an appealing and enjoyable narrative imbued with enough mysticism, classical tragedy and philosophical intrigue to separate it from its lesser Hollywood cousins.

* Black Orpheus is available through Criterion Home Video

Copyright 2007 8½ Cinematheque