Luís Campos’s first feature arrives after more than a decade of incubation. Terra Vil began its trajectory 2012. It has since passed through a small army of industry labs, an odyssey that shows in its polish but also in its fatigue. This is a debut steeped in good intentions, a drama that wants to say a great deal but struggles to do it with clarity.
Twelve-year-old João (William Cesnek) lives with his father, António (Ruben Gomes), whose drinking erodes what little remains of their home life. Across the courtyard, friendly neighbours Teresa (Lúcia Moniz) and her daughters Paula (Francisca Sobrinho) and Liliana (Beatriz Relvas) offer him a little comfort. António makes a living from fishing lampreys at the Douro River, a quickly dying occupation. The folklore tale about a tyrant who drowns while searching for his runaway servant-turned-lamprey opens the film, but the allegory is a little loose and awkward.
The story climaxes when António, out fishing with João, spots Paula inside her boyfriend’s car on the riverbank. Acting on a patriarchal impulse to “protect” her, he pulls the woman out of the vehicle and onto his boat. He then patronises her, arguing that the woman should be ashamed. In response, Paula tells António to mind his own business: he is always drunk and the very reason why his wife left. António snaps, and suddenly grips Paula’s neck. After a brief struggle, she slips into the water and swims to the shore. Word of the fight quickly spreads. António’s guilt festers, and João bears the weight too. Shunned by association, he feels the quiet punishment of a town that holds the young ones accountable for the mistakes of their parents.
For all the time spent in development, the screenplay feels surprisingly thin. The themes of alcoholism, religion, environment and guilt do not gel together. Campos’s direction is precise, but the writing never finds its rhythm. Terra Vil lacks the emotional profundity and coherence required for a film delving with so many topics.
What does endure is the imagery. Campos and his cinematographer Pedro Patrocínio frame every shot with genuine care. João’s world is painted in shades of blue: the clothes, dad’s pickup, the dim rooms. When he crosses the courtyard to Teresa’s home, the lights shift to yellow and amber, a simple yet eloquent narrative device. Colour becomes a storytelling tool. The visual grammar becomes a substitute for the dialogue. Campos and Patrocínio strip Portugal of the abundant sunlight with which it is often associated. It is a cold and sombre atmosphere that prevails. The Douro no longer looks picturesque: the landscape is drained of warmth and certainty.
This Portuguese production reflects the promise and also the limits of the first feature. Campos has a strong visual instinct, but he is yet to find his voice as a writer. The film’s beauty is real, its sincerity unquestionable, however its ultimate meaning remains unclear. In other words: a debut with striking images and uneven depths.
Terra Vil just premiered in the Just Film section of the 29th Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival.