The World of Movies: Limite
Written by Rachael Crawley
The World of Movies is a series that explores global cinema, drawing on films from many countries, industries and eras. This week, we drift away in 1930s Brazil.
Limite.
May contain spoilers.
Limite (1931), a silent, experimental piece, had to work hard to gain its status. It was unsuccessful at the time of its release, but won fans among cinema’s greatest luminaries. It was the only completed film of author Mario Peixoto – who was just twenty-two years old at the time. Generally, it is considered one of Brazil’s best movies. Until recently, though, it was all but lost to its audience.
The movie has four characters, only named as Man/Woman 1 and 2. The women and one of the men are stranded in a small boat. In these scenes, their despair is palpable, present in the smallest of details. The characters are sweaty and filthy, and they veer between great emotion and lethargy. Though their fate appears grim, as the film goes on, they begin to connect. Interspersed are flashbacks of the characters in their ordinary lives. Each has a complicated, painful past.
Still, the story is rather beside the point – it is the filmmaking that is on display here. It occurs to me to describe this film as a sensory experience. Its lingering shots give us time to reflect on the images before us, such as the shining sun, one of the women running her hair through her fingers, or the bobbing of the sea. Even as a purely visual piece, it brings forward the full feeling of these moments. Though I would not call the film overtly surrealist, it does show some influence from the movement, along with Russian constructivist elements, as scenes are marked with shots of seemingly unconnected items. From the most beautiful landscapes to mundane objects, each image is startling and evocative. Each shot is pieced in immaculate detail, held together by broader concepts, to create a fully realized experience.
Limite.
Aside from some scratches and what appears to be a segment with water damage, the print is in reasonably good shape. One scene is lost and has been replaced by an intertitle. The score was reportedly selected from items Peixoto originally intended – it is composed mostly of existing instrumental pieces from the period, such as Satie and Stravinsky – and these give the movie a slow, ponderous feel, with an odd tone of melancholy. The music takes on new shades of variation in the flashback sequences, slightly different for each character, before scrambling to a frenzied ending. This is not to say that the pacing is overly fast or slow – while the movie is a full two hours, it takes time with its images without dragging, even at moments where very little happens. It’s the kind of film a viewer can inhabit.
Like our previous piece, Trances, Limite was part of Martin Scorsese’s World Cinema Project. Its careful restoration is the only reason we can enjoy it today. I’m glad – Limite deserves a proper exhibition. As much as it impressed Welles and Eisenstein back in the day, it is hardly a surprise that it has won over new audiences now – it is the kind of film that synthesizes multiple forms to emerge with something even better, something film fans would both recognize and appreciate. This captivating, lyrical movie has had an overdue – and triumphant – return.
Rachael Crawley holds a Master's Degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, and has worked with film in Canada and in Europe. She adores language and cinema, and how these subjects interact with each other.