Director Bruno Barreto on the
set with his leading lady Sônia Braga
DOÑA FLOR AND HER TWO HUSBANDS (Dona Flor e Seus Dois
Maridos) B+
Brazil (110 mi) 1976 d:
Bruno Barreto
“He was a gigolo, a
bum, and a shameless drunkard… A swindler, a penniless gambler, a cheap
crook! A scoundrel!”
A lightweight sex farce based on Jorge Amado’s 1966 fantasy
novel that not only broke all Brazilian box office records as the most watched
Brazilian film for some 35 years after its release (largely due to its success
abroad), outgrossing both JAWS (1975) and STAR WARS (1977) combined at home,
but it also introduced the world to Sônia Braga, a living legend who became an
international star. The director was
only 21 at the time of the film’s release, but he is the son of Luiz Carlos
Barreto, one of the most important Brazilian producers during the Cinema Novo
period. Equally important is the
sensuous musical contribution from Chico Buarque, one of the artists from the Tropicália
movement, or Tropicalismo, arrested at the height of the military dictatorship
of the late 60’s and exiled to Italy until it was safe to return, but this film
is reflective of the Bahian roots of the novelist while also a celebration of
relaxed government censorship. Set in
1943 in a city Amado helped popularize in his novels, fascinated with the
culture of Salvador in the Bahia region (an historical slave port, with Brazil
receiving more African slaves than any other country, driving the mining
industry, also the sugar and coffee plantations, with Brazil the last country
in the Western world to abolish slavery), with viewers captivated by
wish-fulfillment fantasy and the exuberance of the mixed-race Bahian
atmosphere, drawing upon Afro-Brazilian rituals and folklore, the film mirrors
heightened Bahian interest in black culture, with white middle class
inhibitions being starkly contrasted against the more openly expressive
lifestyle of the black Bahian poor, where all the leads are notably
light-skinned, with darker-skinned players serving lesser roles, reflecting a
crucial racial stigmatization that still prevails in modern societies. While the war and other social realities are
nonexistent, of unusual interest, the original novel is a veritable record of
Bahian cuisine and could be read just for the purposes of the culinary history
of Bahia and the northeast of Brazil, where the film accentuates extended
scenes describing food recipes in much the same way sex scenes are featured,
with Braga teaching a culinary class while also not shying away from nudity (in
stark contrast to the harsh repression of the ruling military regime), all
designed to create a sensually exotic allure that became associated with
Brazilian films. Barreto attempted to
recreate the magic several years later by adapting another Amado novel in
GABRIELA (1983), an international project featuring Braga starring with
Marcello Mastroianni, but the effort fell flat.
In fact, nothing in Barreto’s career has matched the commercial and
artistic success of this early film.
Anyone who’s lived through the destructive social cliques in
high school can remark upon seeing that elusively beautiful girl with a bad
news boyfriend, often with disturbing results, as they’re really not a good
match, but this film explores that marital dichotomy with exaggerated ribald
humor, creating a Don Juan character who is a legendary scoundrel and a cheat,
clever but morally dubious, with a reputation for drinking and womanizing that
spreads throughout town from brothel to brothel, where he’s viewed with
reverence. In the opening segment,
Vadinho (José Wilker) is seen drinking and singing openly on the street with a
group of all-night Carnival revelers, dressed in drag where he’s strangely
wearing a dress, fascinated by the appearance of a voluptuous female Carnival
dancer whose booty-shaking rhythmic gyrations drives men wild, stirring them
into a frenzy, with Vadinho joining in until he drops dead right there on the
street. His wife Doña Flor (Sônia Braga)
is devastated, though a Greek chorus of well-wishers and gossipers offer a
variety of opinions, thinking she’s better off without him, as he was a
good-for-nothing lothario who brutally slapped her around and stole her money
to go gambling, notoriously living at the roulette wheel where his dream was a
run on number 17 that would make him rich beyond his dreams, downing rum like
it’s mother’s milk during his infamous late night exploits of whore-mongering, famously
sleeping with all the girls in the brothels, where his entire life was spent in
childish indulgences where he’s the life of the party, while also revered as a
hero by his cohort of gamblers and lowlifes as he refused to conform, but lived
by his own rules, even seen at the roulette wheel on his wedding day. Flor runs a cooking class on Bahian food,
given an exotic context as it feels so dreamlike, letting her imagination run
wild through local flavors, sending the film into an extensive flashback
sequence, recalling how Vadinho loved her cooking, devouring her in bed as he
would one of her meals, but he was utterly unreliable, out the door in a flash,
always dressed in his white suit and hat, as do his bar-room friends, where
it’s rare to see anyone dressed otherwise.
The women on the other hand are attired in bright colorful clothing, providing
a tropical feel, always arriving in groups to offer Flor moral support after
her husband stays out for days on end.
Despite losing sleep staying up at night waiting for him, it’s clear she
adores the man in spite of his darker impulses, as he always puts a smile on
her face promising to treat her as a queen.
Vadinho’s indiscretions are the essential ingredient of the
book and the film, as his carousing takes him to all walks of life, mixing with
rich and poor alike, making no distinction, putting the finger on anyone he
meets, even hitting the local priest for a gambling stake, which the padre
simply can’t refuse, as the man can devilishly charm his way into
anything. Even after he’s gone, Flor has
a hard time forgetting him (as does another young girl crying her eyes out at
his funeral), as he’s left his larger-than-life imprint, where there’s
literally no one else like him. But
after Vadinho, her mother pushes Flor towards respectability, the polar
opposite of her first husband, thinking that’s the best thing for her, playing
matchmaker with local pharmacist Teodoro (Mauro Mendonça), a perfect gentleman
and a pillar of respectability in the community who looks admiringly on her
from afar. Despite his polite manner and
cultivated bourgeois taste, with a flair for playing the bassoon, much is made
of that absurdly comic obsession, bringing them an air of refinement, which
ends up having little to do with her overall happiness. An older man who is completely dull and
unexciting in every respect, with everything in moderation, providing financial
stability, which is important, and he’s considerate, but bland, lacking the
animal magnetism of her first husband.
Despite the appearance of happiness, Flor is still not content, as her
new husband can’t satisfy her sexual appetite, leaving her yearning for
Vadinho, despite his reckless, devil-may-care attitude. On the one year anniversary of her marriage,
apparently from the afterlife, Vadinho actually reappears completely naked on
her bed with a big smile on his face, as if to ask if she missed him. Already knowing the answer, he pushes his
luck, which sends her recoiling in fear, not wanting to cheat on her
husband. The gist of it is only Flor can
see him (usually naked), as he’s returned as a ghost of himself, but he’s still
up to his old ways, taking measures into his own hands to allow his barmates to
go on that magical run at the roulette wheel that he never managed. Easily the best scene is Vadinho sitting on a
dresser laughing hysterically at the pathetic display of lovemaking in this new
relationship, knowing immediately what she’s missing, encouraging her with
kisses. Somewhat humiliated, she’s torn
by his presence, wishing he would just disappear. In an epic display of Bahian black magic and
voodoo, Flor attempts to fight the spirits to make him go away, and it nearly
succeeds, which instantly scares the hell out of her, leaving her shockingly
disappointed at the thought, immediately drawn to him again, which brings him
back to her. Through magical realism, a
staple of South American literature, a kind of mythic resolution allows Flor to
discover an imaginary way to keep both husbands, where the whimsical finale is
a picture of bourgeois respectability, a threesome in bed, seen attending
church, walking through the center of town, with Vadinho’s ghost tagging along
stark naked, grabbing at Flor’s butt, where she is totally at peace with this
new arrangement, while Teodoro remains utterly clueless about what’s going
on. While the film is a constant
delight, the inherent patriarchal message, and sexist double standard, is that
Vadinho, as a man, is free to carouse to his heart’s content, perhaps embodied
by dictatorial regimes, while Flor, as a woman, may only imagine such sexual
freedom, with her sensuality playing out in culinary expression.
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