This is the first of two reviews of recent queer/ish films I watched that take place in São Paulo.
The first movie is called Quanto Dura O Amor, literally translated as ‘How Long Does Love Last?’ but released internationally in English as Paulista. The movie’s English-language title hits upon a zeitgeist that is so trenchant in the film that it is probably too obvious for the Brazilian viewer. That is, how Avenida Paulista is the symbol of modernity in São Paulo and Brazil. There is a lot I could say about Av. Paulista and its geographic and symbolic importance in cultural politics, perhaps even a chapter’s worth. What I want to talk about here is how the geography of the city mobilizes intertwined fantasies of professional fulfillment, romantic yearning, and quasi-existential happiness, while simultaneously putting those fantasies just out of reach. Paulista teaches the viewer how to love suffering for one’s aspirations.
Here is the trailer with English subtitles.
The movie follows the romantic lives of three characters living in a no-frills apartment complex at the very end of the Paulista. Humble abodes with a view to die for. The film begins with Marina leaving her boyfriend and her country accent behind, as she drives to São Paulo to try and land a part as a stage actress. Through some interpersonal connections, she has managed to find an open room in legal-assistant Suzana’s apartment. As Marina discovers the building’s community terrace, she exclaims to another resident, Jay, how she can’t believe her new address. “Could you imagine if someone asked me where I live? Man, I’d tell them, ‘on the Paulista.’”
Warning: Minor Spoilers Beneath the Fold.
And if the viewer hasn’t yet grasped full cultural implications of living on the Paulista, the number of architectural cutaway shots that interlace the narration will drive the point home. Between almost every second and third dramatic scene is an overhead shot of the avenida paulista. Most are night shots with a moving perspective (most likely taken from a helicopter, as São Paulo has the highest helicopter per capita ratio in the world). And, of course, within every car moving down the street, behind every curtain in the lighted window, there are other stories of other people, with other aspirations.
Ultimately, all three protagonists discover that their fantasies are unattainable, because they have to confront social structures that make realization of dreams impossible. Marina begins an affair with a rocker girl, happy to play the second fiddle to the musician’s boyfriend—until she discovers that the rocker’s boyfriend is really her husband and that the rocker’s rich parents wisk her away. Jay falls in love with a prostitute and tries to start a romantic relationship with her, only to find that she is not interested in being rescued by a struggling writer. And, in what was clearly meant to be the most shocking twist, socially-reserved Suzana tells the man she is seeing and has just slept with that she is a post-operation transsexual woman. None of these ‘modern’ romances survive the film. And in a fitting finale, Marina and Suzana share a cigarette on their balcony during the early morning. As they stand there, awaiting the daylight, they look upon the same vista of Avenida Paulista with a new-found sobriety. Yes, they have their toe-hold on the fabulous life of Avenida Paulista. But they might never have much else.
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