Director Susana Nobre finds a certain serenity in the calamity of midlife crises. Helena’s story isn’t one of family trauma or more typical mourning, but instead of someone who is struggling with a lack of purpose. She’s divorced, her daughter is independent, and now, without her mother to care for, there’s no predetermined societal standard she needs to live up to. Cidade Rabat watches patiently as this new stage in life creates a simultaneous crushing lethargy and a clumsy ambition for something new.
Cidade Rabat marks a departure for Nobre as a writer-director as she’s more familiar with documentary shorts or character docs like 2021’s No Táxi do Jack. Nobre carries over the delicate and empathetic approach to this fictional drama where she narrows in on Helena’s every relationship dynamic with gentle precision.
Nobre’s direction is restrained; there’s no attempt at surrealism, yet she manages to reveal plenty of awkward absurdity hidden within moments of boredom and wordless grief. There’s a confident humour imbued into each scene and the rhythm of the film that evokes the cinema of Aki Kaurismäki. The way that Nobre mixes deadpan performances with a film that can feel romantic about the world around our protagonist. Cidade Rabat never forgets its own genre, consistently comedic although finding its most memorable laughs within moments of tragic irony.
It is essential to mention Chantal Akerman’s films as a reference point. Nobre equally deals with the complexity of mother-daughter bonds through a thorough cinematic investigation of the interior and semiotics related to home. The inspiration is clear, but Nobre still finds new avenues to go down, particularly in how she centres memory and scattered vessels of nostalgia that one confronts in the everyday when living nearby where they were raised. Scenes are staged in order to emphasise how big moments, such as telling your daughter about her grandmother’s passing or moving a funeral bouquets into an old car. Essentially, life moves on. Cidade Rabat tackles that statement to its fullest within the world of Helena and what “moving on” means for her at her age.
Much like the work of the Akerman and other contemporary female auteurs like Kelly Reichardt or Claire Denis, Susana Nobre’s razor-sharp focus on all of Helena’s contradictions and insecurities makes for a powerfully feminist narrative. Despite occassionally seeming quite bleak in how it portrays the sterility of modern life, Nobre’s choice to structurally emulate a coming-of-age story brings this sweet optimism to Helena’s journey of self-discovery in her 40s.
Raquel Castro as Helena is a revelation. She facilitates Nobre’s mission with a fully embodied performance. Once we pass the first act with the exposition of the mother’s passing and subsequent funeral, Helena is conflicted about potentially moving into her mother’s now empty flat in the titular Cidade Rabat. This eventually triggers a sense of confusion. In these sequences, Castro is asked to make some bold acting decisions in moments of oppressive silence and she thrives. The small appearance from Portuguese cinema newcomer Isabel Costa is also worth pointing out: Joana brings more life to Helena’s workplace. Both Nobre and her performers shift away from melodrama yet skilfully build towards some crucially tender moments in the third leg.
Ultimately, Nobre’s narrative fiction is a victory in all its humble simplicity. A stripped-back and direct approach to a film about mothers and motherhood as well as what is remembered and what is forgotten.
Cidade Rabat streams for free during the entire month of December as part of ArteKino – just click here now for more information.
