48 (93', Portugal 2009) by Susana de Sousa Dias
This film was awarded the Grand Prix Cinéma du Réel. Although such seal of approval is no guarantee of the quality of a work of art... this was one of the most moving, well-composed films I saw in the festival.
A 1950s' police photo of a young woman appears on the screen. Black and white print faded into shades of brown and yellow. A solemn face looks straight ahead: not at the audience, but into the light of the projector shining like an interrogation lamp. A "mug shot" of a victim of the fascist dictatorship in Portugal. Soon, a voice begins to speak, recounting details of her imprisonment as they come to her mind, called forth by the photograph. The voice is calm; at times falters. Breathing can be heard, sometimes the sound of swallowed tears. The face on the screen gradually fades until the entire screen is flooded by grey luminosity. Silence. Breathing. Silence and darkness: de Sousa Dias is not afraid to explore those moments of waiting, risking the discomfort of the audience who, as if suddenly conscious of the two senses of captivity, begins to leave*.
Waiting, expectation. The voice may speak again: the story has not been exhausted. Speaking does not bring relief to the survivor; there is no catharsis in truth-telling. Retold, the torment is relived, and telling it now, like withstanding it then in silence, is a duty. There is no completing of the tale.
Out of the darkness of the mute screen, in the exact same place where the other has disappeared, another face emerges. . . .
