QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM LISBON

Beautiful and elegant Vera (Maria João Pinho), probably in her early 40s, doesn’t think she belongs in this shelter for victims of domestic abuse. She is strong, determined, and there are no signs of violence anywhere on her body. Maybe her partner went a little too far, but he never laid a finger on her. She surely doesn’t fit in with these helpless ladies who’ve been beaten to the pulp by their other halves. It is denial and indignation that intoxicate the first protagonist of this character-driven, episodical film.

It takes a while before Vera eventually blends in. The cleaning rota, the sorority, the newfound home with brand new dynamics. It’s all a little too much to take in instantly. She is soon to find out that her predicament that is a lot more similar to the other women’s than she anticipated. Vera, Madalena (Leonor Silveira), Conceição (Filomena Gigante) and Gabriela (Rita Cabaço) have allowed domestic abuse to flourish in their lives, without realising it. Quiet and doting psychologist Joana is played by Ana Sofia Martins. The dynamics of manipulation have become all-too-sophisticated, and do not always necessarily include a black eye and a broken limb.

Madalena’s story is the most powerful one, or at least the one investigated in more detail hitherto. Silveira delivers a heartfelt, furious performance. We gradually learn about the details of the abuse through her extensive interactions with her son, a stern young man in a loving relationship with another male. He resents that his mother never stood for him at home, while she claims that she did absolutely everything within her power in order to make him happy, and that her entire existence was devoted to the wellbeing of her only child. The hectic finger-pointing is a natural consequence of a toxic environment where relationships are negotiated through harassment and intimidation. Despite never seeing the aggressor, viewers are asked to stick their fingers in the psychological wounds that they left open.

Despite being packaged and promoted as a 95-minute film premiering at IndieLisboa, those are instead the first two episodes of a television series produced by Rado Filmes and television channel RTP. Casa-Abrigo boasts extremely strong performances, rivetting dialogue and relatable interactions. At times, the victims briefly take on the role of the oppressor (as when Madalena bullies Gabriela for touching her belongings), shunning facile Manichaean stereotypes. It all feels palpably real, the result of extensive research into real-life abuse stories, and based on one statistic: 30,000 cases of domestic abuse were reported to the Portuguese police last year. This included 22 casualties, of which 19 were female.

Casa-Abrigo just premiered at IndieLisboa.