“The Portuguese Woman”, a film directed by Rita
Azevedo Gomes, tells the story of a nameless lady from Portugal. The period
setting is the age of war in Western Europe sometime in the 17th or 18th
century. Lord von Ketten, a warrior, leaves his Portuguese wife one year after their
marriage to join a decades-long battle with the Bishop of Trent in northern Italy. Instead of returning to Portugal, the lady takes up her abode in his
family castle, a decaying mansion perched high on a rocky peak, to wait with
her newborn baby for his return.
A large portion of the film is thus taken
up with the description of the whirling vortex of unhappiness, loneliness and boredom
the Portuguese woman is trapped in during what seems to be an interminable
wait. How the lady rides out the agony of the long wait is shown in some trifling
details of her daily life.
Missing her maiden home in Portugal, she is
often seen holding a book which she never seems to be reading. She makes
sketches and sculptures, too, from which she derives little joy, though, as can
be seen from the casual way she handles the finished products. There is hardly
any smile on her face except, perhaps, for the moment when she is bathing in a
mountain stream, reveling in the freedom the practice affords her in contrast
with the feeling of suffocation she endures within the confines of the mansion.
Tormented by loneliness, she seeks companionship from the maid servants and
slaves, laughing half-heartedly over their stale, childish games. Besides, she must have been walking aimlessly around
the vicinity of the mountains, exchanging pleasantries with the few rural dwellers
who cross paths with her, for she seems very familiar with the sad story of an
old woman with her face half hidden behind a thick veil.
Strangely, while a wolf cub and a kitten,
both adopted, become her cherished pets, there seems a lack of communication
between mother and child. The only time when she shows her motherly concern is when
the child is almost choked on account of a slave’s negligence. The sporadic
appearances of a teenager, obviously her son, later in the story only serve to
indicate the years going by. Another teenager, probably the same boy but slightly more advanced in
age, is seen responding to the bidding of the wheelchaired Ketten,
whom he addresses as Lord. Why is so little importance attached to this
character? It somehow highlights the fact that the mere
focus of her life is to wait to be reunited with her husband. This probably
accounts for the snail’s pace of the film with long quiet scenes to enhance the
impression that time crawls on.
Besides, plain colours also set the monotonous
tone and mood of the movie. The Portuguese woman looks arrogant in her
pale-coloured costumes of a silky texture, which, however, give no hint of her
change of mood, if any. Even on the occasion of her husband’s return after a
lengthy absence from home, there are no bright colours to heighten the long
forgotten joy. On the other hand, the architectural decay and faded
furnishings of the once-rich castle also reveal the dreariness of life and
invoke a gloomy mood.
As the story drags on, however, the
description of Lord von Ketten takes a sudden turn. Initially, his devotion to
the never-ending war has taken him away from his wife for long years. In the
few scenes of his brief appearances, he is heavily armoured like the rest of
the warriors, always ready to get back to the battlefield. He shows no obvious
interest in cultivating intimacy with his wife. But, quite surprisingly, he is
later found to be capable of very passionate love, venting his anger on the pet
wolf when provoked to fierce jealousy by Pero Lobato, his suspected rival. When
Ketten lies in bed, nearly fatally wounded, whether the woman will finally fall
for Pero keeps the audience emotionally engaged. And the depiction of Ketten’s
strenuous struggles for survival is downright uplifting! These details add to
the dramatic appeals of the otherwise stodgy film. They also give the impression that the film
is a romance, though not a very tightly constructed one.
We are
inevitably attracted by some artistic elements in the film, which can perhaps
justify its languid pace. It begins with a singing narrator reciting the poem “Under
the Lime Tree”. The narrator’s later reappearances between scenes, singing and
commenting on the incidents, smack of something akin to visual poetry. Also artistically
appealing are its painterly visuals. Each of the scenes is like a painting
typical of those in the Middle Ages. One striking feature is the out-of-focus presence
of gaping doors in several scenes, adding much to the mystery of the background
spaces.
Overall,
while telling about a woman of bravery, patience and tenacity, the film also shows
how love can survive long years’ trials and temptations. Though there are
moments when it seems a bit drawn-out, this is a film well worth our time and
interest
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