the state of male behavior
by Douglas Messerli
Erich Philippi (screenplay), António
Lopes Ribeiro and Max Nosseck (directors) Gado Bravo (Wild Cattle)
/ 1934 [in Portuguese only]
The other evening, I watched Wild
Cattle, a film in which many of the crew and cast were Austrians and Germans
who had recently escaped the Nazi’s by moving to Portugal. Portugal itself, now
under the dictatorship of conservative and autocratic ideologies created by António
de Oliveira Salazar, President of the Council of Ministers from 1932 until 1968,
was undergoing radical national agricultural reform under the Estado Novo (the “New
State”), and this film makes some mild bows to the countryside agricultural workers.
Before
I begin to describe the heart of this film, I must mention that what little
Portuguese I know was picked up on my couple of visits to Brazil in the early years
of the millennium, and I cannot claim any linguistic fluency. Yet it doesn’t
take a deep understanding of the language to follow the story of the famed
landowner and bullfighter Manuel Garrido (Raul
de Carvalho), who after winning a major bullfight attends the nightclub where
Nina (Olly Gebauer) is performing.
As she begins her song, Garrido enters, the entire audience suddenly
turning to toast him and sing an alternate song to him in celebration. Furious
with the lack of attention, she stomps offstage, much to the consternation of
her companion “impresario,” Jackson (Sig Arno). He attempts, without much
success, to lure her back on stage, realizing that if she refuses to perform
they will again lose
But
at the last moment, she decides to return to stage, this time carrying an armful
of long-stemmed roses which she tosses out to the desirous men, managing to
make a small cut on Garrido’s face with a thorn in punishment for his upstaging
of her act.
So begins a comic romance in which Garrido becomes enchanted with Nina
even while he is locally committed to the love of Branca (Nita Brandao).
Set against this romantic story is Arno’s character of Jackson who is
represented in this work as everything Garrido and his kind are not—a
feminized, impotent, and quite apparently gay figure who throughout jumps,
leaps, and is propelled through the air as if he were a jack-in-the-box, who dances
in a mix of Groucho Marx and a hoochie coochie performer, and ends up
continually doing women’s work, eventually winding up in drag to escape a man
who mistakenly believes he is attempting to seduce his wife.
Jackson, strangely enough, is at the center of this otherwise quite
macho tale, if for no other reason than Arno is such a brilliant comedian.
Indeed when he is not onstage, driving wildly through a cattle ranch that doesn’t
even permit autos or drinking himself into a stupor, the film drags. After all,
Nina, as we soon discover, is a true bitch, a would-be seductress of our macho patron,
and ends up murdered by another lover in the movie’s last moments. Strangely,
even Nina seems to be unable to put Jackson out of her mind. After arriving at
Garrido’s estate, even though by this time romantically attracted to the
bullfighter, she dreams of Jackson’s hilariously daring deeds which brought her
to Garrido’s mansion.
Throughout the film, except for a couple of deep clinches with Nina,
Garrido seems much more comfortable with his hands on his male compatriots and
obviously feels more comfortable around his own cowboys and the other
bullfighters in the ring who challenge the bulls with cape and sword as he
rides around on a horse as a rejoneo, tossing his rejones de castigo
and banderillas into the animal’s neck and shoulders. And it is his
close friend who quite literally grabs, hugs, pulls, and redresses his now drunken
friend in order to bring him into the ring.
By the end of the film, as Nina is murdered and Jackson slips out of the
picture, the focus shifts, in fact, to a marvelous bullfighting sequence as the
police stand by, waiting to arrest Garrido for his possible murder of the
woman. He’s not guilty and can now return to his country estate to marry the
local girl while daily hanging out with his male companions.
Although made mostly by men and women
“in transit,” so to speak, this film, as Portuguese critic Paulo Cunha
observes, was one of early full realizations of Portuguese culture: “Despite
the significant presence of foreigners and the clear attempt to
internationalize this project, producer Hamilcar da Costa clarified that this
film was “resolutely and unmistakably” Portuguese, as it was “conceived by a
Portuguese mentality, filmed in the same country, focusing on parts of our
life, carried out exclusively in Portuguese locations, manages to have and give
an indispensable unity to a spectator to recognize in it as a national work.”
Los Angeles, July 19, 2024
Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog
(July 2024).
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