Political Sensibilities in Ossos (dir. Costa, 1997)

As a spectator I forget how used I am to consuming content that is designed and structured to be palatable. When sitting to watch a movie, I often anticipate that my emotions will be manipulated in a specific, calculated way. The film will employ any number of tricks in lighting, cinematography, sound, etc. to ensure I -the spectator- catch the message and digest it in the “right” way. The intended way. In such films, sensory and haptic aspects as described by Vivian Sobchack in her essay What My Fingers Knew (2004) may play an important role. After all, pulling more senses into an otherwise visual format practically ensures we remember the piece better, for a longer time. Yet this powerful tool is often employed as a mere compliment to the predetermined message the film is set on conveying, rather than as an essential element helping us remember the piece as an entity. As a spectator, I will walk out of the film with the same feelings and sensations as my fellow audience members. We might discuss it: How well were our emotions guided? Did it feel at all contrived or did it feel natural? Then I’ll go watch a video essay, just to make sure I really understood what the movie wanted me to. Ossos (1997) directed by Pedro Costa shattered this pattern I was so accustomed to. He centers sensory experiences and trusts the audience to navigate the emotions that rise. He does not mention a correct interpretation, understanding that -much like in real life- emotions that are left scrambled and not easily named have the power to stick with us. These emotional bundles are precisely the ones that often push us to reflect more profoundly on our life experience. They can push us to change our perception and act.

Ossos (meaning “bones” in Portuguese) is the first installment in Pedro Costa’s Fontainhas Trilogy. The trilogy originates from an anthropological study and tells three separate stories in different genres that are held together by their shared setting: the Fontainhas neighborhood in Lisbon, Portugal. Ossos follows the fictionalized account of the day-to-day happenings of a couple living in Lisbon’s very real impoverished and marginalized neighborhood. It is not a stretch to call it an exponent of Cinema Verité as it was filmed on location in the Fontainhas, employed residents of the neighborhood as actors, and favors austere realism in pretty much every aspect of production. As mentioned, the story centers two characters: a dysfunctional couple with an infant child. It opens somberly, and sets the tone for the entire film: Tina, the young mother, attempts suicide along with the baby. She is foiled by her partner, who takes the baby with him as he begs around the city looking for food. In the process, he meets a nurse who is willing to help him and his child. Meanwhile, Tina finds work as a maid with the help of her friend Clotilde. The movie carries on in this manner, showcasing what for them is an ordinary day, but for a significant amount of the audience is a completely alien way of life.

The movie is hard to stomach, it evokes outrage and sadness without dipping into melodrama. Watching this film is not an enjoyable experience, but it is certainly memorable. Despite slow pacing, it is brimming with moments that are sure to make the audience react viscerally. The paper bag sequence, the casual delivery as two characters talk about selling a child, the intradiegetic music mixed with the dull roar of the city and the almost nonexistent light in the film sink the audience into a disorienting, strange and scary part of the world. Yet, its camera work: long and intimate shots laced through with close-ups of impossibly sad, tired faces framed (almost consumed) in shadows ask the audience to find compassion for these characters. To empathize with them now that we have glimpsed this horrifying reality lived by many real-world inhabitants of Fontainhas.

Philosopher Jacques Rancière uses the movies in the Trilogy of the Fontainhas to exemplify concepts in his essay, The Paradoxes of Political Art (2010). In the essay Rancière argues that politics generate and shape the collective vocabulary around human sensibilities. Tainting social groups’ ability to identify the sensibilities that surround them, and act on them. According to Rancière, political art provides a space for social groups to be jolted, presented with a different view of reality. But to be successful, the art piece must first discombobulate the spectator, shake them out of what they have always regarded as true. The spectator has to then be transported to a space of strangeness, presented with a different truth. It is in this space that individuals can reflect on this sense of strangeness, where it is coming from, what feeling it creates and what to do about it. (Rancière 2010) Pedro Costa intuitively understands this process. He succeeds in having this feeling of strangeness last the entire run time of his film while simultaneously generating a space to explore these sensations and identify what emotions they bring out. Indignation? Sadness? Anger? Employing haptic sensibilities is a key part of the film’s success in this task, especially as a work of fiction. Physical sensations are palpable, hard to ignore especially when they feel incongruous with our previous experience of reality. Despite the sluggish pacing of the film maybe becoming an obstacle for modern audiences, it is a movie that crawls under skin and seeps into bone. It submerges the viewer into the strange, nightmarish Fontainhas, allowing us to glimpse a world most dare not imagine.

Haunting cinematography and many a bizarre scene ensure this film remains emblazoned in our minds, making it impossible to remain in ignorance. This film invites us to reflect on our responsibility as human beings to understand that there is much suffering in the world and to not ignore it. Costa avoids fishing for a specific emotional response. He simply asks us to see, to subject ourselves for a little while to the personal stories, the private lives of the people in this suffering slum. Both director and spectator know a single movie cannot end poverty or obliterate misery. But accompanying these characters through their journeys; growing aware of their existence and the situation they live through; maybe even by noticing similarities in our own cities and communities, we can demand change. All change starts with empathy.

References:

Branco, P., (producer) y Costa, P. (director). (1997). Ossos [Film]. Portugal, France and Denmark: Madragoa Filmes, Gemini Films, Zentropa Production

Rancière, J. (2010). The Paradoxes of Political Art. Dissensus: On Politics and Aesthetics (pp. 134-151). Bloomsbury Academic

Sobchack, V. (2000). What My Fingers Knew. Carnal Thoughts: Embodiment and Moving Image Culture (pp. 53-84). University of California Press