O Frágil Som do Meu Motor
Cronenbergian body horror, Aronofsky-ish weirdness, and Halloween twisty serial killers, in a single esoteric package. It packs a noir atmosphere, with the requisite police procedural.
This is as much a visual experience as anything else. The plot takes a back seat, it twists and turns in service of powerful imagery. This leads to a dreamlike experience, greatly enhanced with Rodrigo Leão’s instrumental music.
The variety of cinematic “genres” explored is staggering. It’s mostly film noir and Cronenberg crazyness, but there’s also an action film sneakily inserted between the contemplation and the abject psychological oppression and tension.
There’s no big speeches and acting tour-de-forces, just plot twists to compel scenes of refined visual oompm.
The main plot revolves around some hideous crimes, a nurse with direct contact with the crime being sexually frustrated and cheating on her husband with mysterious figure, who might be the killer itself, or not. That nurse is involved on a love triangle with her husband’s best friend. It pivots to hospital horror with Victorian spookiness. Finally, there are also action scenes.
This is my place for ramblings about sequences of images that exploit the human visual limitation know as persistence of vision.