When the third wave of Cinema Novo was brought to an abrupt end, the quality of cinematic output coming from Brazil stagnated quite considerably.
It wasn’t really until the films Central Station and City of God surfaced (the latter of which gaining significant critical acclaim) that Brazilian cinema was once again seen as a powerhouse in independent and avant film-making.
Much like the aforementioned films, the themes of class and social attitude have pervaded the fabric of the modern Brazilian film, which has become increasingly acute in these perceptions and engaging in the issues of a country which, although rapidly growing and progressing, still faces basic problems of a social landscape that is far from the ideal.
The opening images of the film displays real life footage of slavery in Brazil, of the sugar-mills, where the origins of Brazilian society are thought to have come from.
The images are immediately effecting, and provide an historical and cultural backdrop upon which the film can build over, depicting a new Brazilian society that has not altogether eloped and emancipated itself from the old, allowing there to be a passageway for the viewer to see the intrinsic connection between past and present.
Neighbouring Sounds then drops us into the centre of a middle-class suburban housing residency, it’s modern, clean and diverse; a seeming flagship for a prospering Brazil.
Beyond the haven of white walls and swimming pools lies the expansive vista that displays the city of Recife, with its high tower block buildings that look ominously and oppressively over the secluded estate.
We meet numerous colourful characters from the private neighbour, each displaying, in their own way, a certain desire or aspiration that distinguishes them as part of a specific type of social class.
Whether it is Bia (Maeve Jinkings) who takes quieted pride in having a superior lifestyle and material possessions to that of her sister, or Claudio (Sebastiao Formiga) who is on his second generation of housemaid, replacing the old and tired worker of his fathers with her eldest daughter.
It would be so easy to dislike these people and their middle class rituals, if it were not for the natural comedic underscoring of each situation, which often disarms you from having any negative feelings invested.
The dry humour that is delivered early on is in stark contrast with the more sinister and serious tone that is established in the latter part of the film, for this is a film of opposition.
Firstly, in the most literal sense of being split into two main parts, day and night and then secondly in a more symbolic sense upon which we are assaulted by various signifiers, whether they are comedic or horrific.
The tension in the film really begins to unravel as the neighbourhood allows a private security company to police the streets and buildings that surround them.
We are then mostly shown what goes on after dark, where drunkards, gangs and secrets play out an opera in the shadows.
The fragility of their way of life is scratched at until it is bare, when horror and deceit run wild upon the cosy residents culminating in a violent and dramatic concluding scene that leaves one questioning the nature of safety and those who are entrusted with it.
The physical geography and the way it is uniquely captured is something that strikes one quite immediately; Kleber Mendonca Filho is a director who understands the importance of juxtaposition, and possesses the vision in which to display it inventively, creating a striking cinematic experience.
He takes us away from the usual tropes of realism, expanding outwards, not simply exploring and manipulating the minutia with his camera. Instead, he allows us to look at big pictures, giving expansive context and a rich aesthetic experience that is wholly immersing for the viewer.
In one of the more memorable visuals from the film, we follow a woman as she steps out to the balcony of an estate apartment; the camera allows us to see a three-way dialogue between the apartment, the woman and the city.
It’s an image that is masterfully poignant, as it encapsulates the spatial tension between what is unknown and uncontrollable (the city) and what is regulated and controlled (the estate), with the resident lying in-between, reliant upon an established boundary.
It’s in these established boundaries with which the tension of the film is really built upon.
We are sometimes left outside of a scene, peering at characters through bars that are bolted to their doors and windows, giving a feeling that we are prying upon something secret and private; a suburban life that is concerned with being reserved and safe.
Our senses are constantly manipulated in various ways, in particular deploying original use of sound design, not merely having a soundtrack, but an array of noises, clicks and beats that fit each mood perfectly.
It allows each scene to be a full sensual experience, as the noises are melted with the lush cinematography that utilises collages of colour, shadows and lighting in an optimal way.
This film is, more than anything, a precise and calculated piece of art; modern and poetic, standing out against the often ‘lazy’ realism of American independent cinema and being something which one can invest infinite concentration upon.
Neighbouring Sounds successfully creates a realistic world within the realms of poetics.
It’s as entertaining as it is enlightening, defying genre to be thrilling, horrific and amusing.
If Filho and his unique brand of realism is the future of Brazilian cinema, then it’s in very capable hands.
Words: Alan Laidlaw
