"..A father searching for his missing daughter.." That is as much as you should know beforehand; a large part of the film's genius is in its pacing. Without narration, without explanation, the camera gives us a steady succession of images to puzzle over that slowly, with sparse dialog, start piecing together. A simple story that tells itself slowly and broodingly, its bleakness and despair underscored with grim lighting and tight, restrained acting.
*** possible spoilers ***
As the camera first follows Mario wandering between cars on the highway it shows very little of what's going on. Mario's worn, expressionless face and his lurching progress through the traffic hint at some interaction with the drivers but one is left to wonder if he's there to clean windshields, to sell Kleenex... Eventually, in a parking lot, we see that he's distributing flyers but again the camera withholds the detail and one is left to suppose that it's propaganda that he's slipping under windshield wipers. Finally, as he distributes them to indifferent pedestrians, the camera shows us a flyer with its foto of the missing Alice.
¡¡I applaud this pacing!!
The same pacing continues with Mario's checking of the first camera. One is left to wonder, to search for the logic of events. We still don't know who Mario is: we saw him leave a woman's bed in a cramped apartment in the early morning, we saw his mute progress through the streets with the flyers, now he's let himself into this well appointed loft or office and gone about his routine of changing the video cassette... Who is Mario? Why does he leave with so many keys? He doesn't distribute propaganda for a living, does he house-sit? Everything comes clear, at its own speed. The flashback in the middle, presented as it is without demarcation, is disorienting at first but also becomes clear.
The acting is flawless and without artifice. One isn't given enough distance to admire the acting, as one is too involved with the characters and their inner workings. Mario (Nuno Lopes), with whom we begin to sympathize as we realize the method to his madness, has a clarity of purpose that holds him together and keeps him going. The collusion of those who assist him in his search also serve as moral support; when his logic is questioned, or when a supporter fails him, he is threatened. Luisa (Beatriz Batarda) is shattered and unable to heal precisely because of Mario's unwavering purpose. Although she was the outwardly distraught of the two when Alice first disappeared, one has the sense that she could put it behind her and start again, if only Mario would return to her. She can't fathom the french-fry uniformity that Mario has made of their days.
*** definite spoilers ***
My only grievance with this film is the predictability of Mario's breakdown in the moment where he renounces his search. Perhaps, rather, it is inevitability. It rings true, but one sees it coming well in advance. Mario's tortured thrashings in his studio as he scatters photographs is the one sequence that borders the artificial, smacking more of contemporary dance than of spontaneity.
The conclusion of the film was, for me, pure genius. I found it impossible, given the tenor of the film, that Mario would eventually find Alice. What I never even considered was that he would miss her. It made me wonder how many other times he might have passed her in the crowd, moments outside of the narrative of the camera.
I missed the quote from Alice in Wonderland at the end of the credits; ¿can anyone enlighten me?
*** end spoilers ***
In conclusion, I recommend Alice to any and all who have the patience to let the film unfold. Myself, I'll be looking out for other work by Marco Martins, Nuno Lopes and Beatriz Batarda! Two thumbs up.
*** possible spoilers ***
As the camera first follows Mario wandering between cars on the highway it shows very little of what's going on. Mario's worn, expressionless face and his lurching progress through the traffic hint at some interaction with the drivers but one is left to wonder if he's there to clean windshields, to sell Kleenex... Eventually, in a parking lot, we see that he's distributing flyers but again the camera withholds the detail and one is left to suppose that it's propaganda that he's slipping under windshield wipers. Finally, as he distributes them to indifferent pedestrians, the camera shows us a flyer with its foto of the missing Alice.
¡¡I applaud this pacing!!
The same pacing continues with Mario's checking of the first camera. One is left to wonder, to search for the logic of events. We still don't know who Mario is: we saw him leave a woman's bed in a cramped apartment in the early morning, we saw his mute progress through the streets with the flyers, now he's let himself into this well appointed loft or office and gone about his routine of changing the video cassette... Who is Mario? Why does he leave with so many keys? He doesn't distribute propaganda for a living, does he house-sit? Everything comes clear, at its own speed. The flashback in the middle, presented as it is without demarcation, is disorienting at first but also becomes clear.
The acting is flawless and without artifice. One isn't given enough distance to admire the acting, as one is too involved with the characters and their inner workings. Mario (Nuno Lopes), with whom we begin to sympathize as we realize the method to his madness, has a clarity of purpose that holds him together and keeps him going. The collusion of those who assist him in his search also serve as moral support; when his logic is questioned, or when a supporter fails him, he is threatened. Luisa (Beatriz Batarda) is shattered and unable to heal precisely because of Mario's unwavering purpose. Although she was the outwardly distraught of the two when Alice first disappeared, one has the sense that she could put it behind her and start again, if only Mario would return to her. She can't fathom the french-fry uniformity that Mario has made of their days.
*** definite spoilers ***
My only grievance with this film is the predictability of Mario's breakdown in the moment where he renounces his search. Perhaps, rather, it is inevitability. It rings true, but one sees it coming well in advance. Mario's tortured thrashings in his studio as he scatters photographs is the one sequence that borders the artificial, smacking more of contemporary dance than of spontaneity.
The conclusion of the film was, for me, pure genius. I found it impossible, given the tenor of the film, that Mario would eventually find Alice. What I never even considered was that he would miss her. It made me wonder how many other times he might have passed her in the crowd, moments outside of the narrative of the camera.
I missed the quote from Alice in Wonderland at the end of the credits; ¿can anyone enlighten me?
*** end spoilers ***
In conclusion, I recommend Alice to any and all who have the patience to let the film unfold. Myself, I'll be looking out for other work by Marco Martins, Nuno Lopes and Beatriz Batarda! Two thumbs up.