Can a film thrive on too much detail? In the bathroom of Alice’s house, urine accumulates on the toilet seat. Alice (Carla Ribas) wipes it away before reprimanding her three sons for their masculine indiscretions. In the bedroom and living room, these male hotties seem to be always prepping for an amateur performance of Three Dancing Slaves, using their brotherly camaraderie as a jumping-off point to broach more serious issues about life—which is to say, fucking. Writer-director Chico Teixeira started out in documentaries but the sense of realism he brings to his first feature-length fiction is fussy and unilluminative of character when it should be spontaneous. It’s also not without its noxious implications. Underlining much of the film is a trite inspection of male behavior: Two different scenes feature men—Alice’s husband, Lindomar (Zécarlos Machado), and her lover, Nilson (Luciano Quirino)—tending to their extramarital honeys while being distracted by another woman’s breasts and ass. Incident also incredulously flies off the screen, from the young neighbor girl, Thaïs (Mariana Leighton), who asks an oblivious Alice for advice on how to steal Lindomar from her to the manner in which Alice flaunts the necklace Nilson gave her in front of a disinterested Lindomar. There is also Nilson’s wife, Carmen (Renata Zhaneta), who appears to have an appointment every day at Alice’s beauty shop, coincidentally taking her rage over her husband’s adultery out on the money-mongering Alice. It seems only natural, then, that poor Dona Jacira (Berta Zemel), Alice’s mother, should be going blind: From the house’s laundry room and balcony the old woman has an all-access pass into Lindomar’s jeans, whose pockets conveniently spill evidence of his extramarital affairs, and a birds-eye view of one grandson, Lucas (Vinicius Zinn), receiving money from a trick. By the time a beauty shop patron refers to Alice’s life as a soap opera, you can only shake your head in agreement.
Since 2001, we've brought you uncompromising, candid takes on the world of film, music, television, video games, theater, and more. Independently owned and operated publications like Slant have been hit hard in recent years, but we’re committed to keeping our content free and accessible—meaning no paywalls or fees.
If you like what we do, please consider subscribing to our Patreon or making a donation.