As Varda once said:
"If we opened people up, we would find landscapes".
Like a reverie, like a fragmented memory, like a whisper, like a falling feather, like the play of light and shadows on an afternoon. An evocation of particular sensations you might have felt in a dream, which come back again once you recall such a dream, approaching it to the reality...
Haunted by the absence of her deceased husband, Vitalina reminisces and reconstructs an image of him before the audience, creating a dominating presence that feels alive, yet distant, as she tries to reconnect with the last pieces of a man she couldn't be able to see again.
The decaying and stunning chiaroscuro post-colonial settings emphasize Vitalina's emotional state. It's devastating.
Pedro's visionary filmmaking, at this point, places him on the pantheon of artists, whose films can only be described by uttering their names.
Through its exquisite slow-burning presentation, this near-lost film evokes a variety of sensations and imagery that reminisce a dream with its candle-lit chambers, fantastical objects, ethereal curtains and intricate carpets, mahogany and golden brown colors all-around, crickets, barking dogs, and incense (with these details, I even felt that I had dreamed with something like this before), but a dream that slowly turns into a ghostly nightmare, while exploring a familiar tale of covetousness (surely disguising a political critique, as well)…