Morte e vida Madalena, Death and Life Madalena

The script mixes some events that have already happened on my sets or those of colleagues, with fears that feed our worst nightmares. Everything taken to the point of absurdity, of course, but with basis in reality. In low-budget independent cinema, where time is short and money is tight, some unforeseen events can ruin a film. A week when it rains more than expected, an actress who falls ill, tensions between crew members, higher-than-expected expenses, anything that goes off plan is cause for panic. When I’m on set, every day I wake up I think: today everything can go wrong. Be prepared. And things end up working out, even when they do go wrong. Resilience is an essential condition for anyone who makes this kind of cinema. And always maintaining a good mood is another.

I have known Noá Bonoba for many years and she has always been an actress I have greatly admired. We worked together on my previous film, Estranho Caminho (A Strange Path, 2023), where she did the casting preparation and played the role of a police officer in a comic scene I really like. Morte e Vida Madalena is the first feature film in which she is the lead. In addition to being an actress, Noá is also a director. She has made a few short films and is now in the process of directing her first feature film.

When the first idea for the film came to me, the character was pregnant and I don’t really know why. I simply started writing accepting this condition and building the narrative around it. And the pregnancy made more and more sense within the story and was maintained. Madalena carrying a child in her belly and a film on her back. Making a film is a way of giving birth: the process is a roller coaster of emotions, where the conclusion is a great relief. Going further, we can compare films to children: if we don’t put all the effort and love into the moment of creating them, the disappointment can last for the rest of our lives. The curious thing is that when we finished shooting, Ticiana, the film’s producer, discovered she was pregnant.

The film produced by Madalena had to be a B film for budgetary reasons, that’s the truth. If we were working with a higher budget, Madalena might have been producing a tropical Blade Runner. And B cinema is exactly about that, the invention of an aesthetic that arises from economic limitations. It’s never a choice, it’s a condition. Except when Tarantino or De Palma decide to make B films paying homage to B cinema. That’s why we are so fascinated when we see great films made with little money, because there is an inestimable value in making the most of scarce resources, a value that generates empathy in the audience and rises these productions to a place of much greater historical relevance than many large and ostentatious productions.

About Tavinho Teixeira looking like Klaus Kinsky, I only dreamed of this moment when this comparison would happen. It made my day. And I’m sure Tavinho will also love to hear that.

Filming workers is something that has been part of cinema since the workers left the Lumiere brothers’ factory until today. It’s always fascinating to see the action of labor on screen, especially when new perspectives on a certain work are presented and new angles are revealed. With Death and Life Madalena, I wanted to film workers in cinema, more specifically workers in low-budget independent cinema in a third world country—those blocked at the borders—, which is the cinema I have inhabited for 20 years. The film is therefore a tribute to troupe cinema, made between friends, artisanal, inclusive; but it refuses to romanticize itself and its own precariousness. The story reveals a process that is also marked by violence, crossed by tensions and power struggles, no matter how far to the left it may be compared to the production methods of hegemonic industrial cinema. Just because we are in a more horizontal and inclusive environment doesn’t mean we don’t have to deal with the monsters that inhabit us—and that also feed on the conditions we are given. Death and Life Madalena is a fun and sunny film, but it doesn’t hide its shadows. And I think Madalena’s character reflects this very well.

I usually rehearse a lot with the cast during pre-production. We rehearse all the scenes of the film, starting with what is written in the script and then improvising. And everything is filmed. Then I watch the rehearsals and what works from the improvisations I take it to the script, which continues to be reworked until the day before we start shooting. On set, because of the short time we have, I have to trust the script. What never stopped more proactive actors, like Noá Bonoba and Tavinho Teixeira, for example, from giving a different shape to the text or even a different tone to the scene after I say “action”. That happened a lot in this film. Both of them, as well as other actors, constantly surprised me. I like to be surprised, to see something happening that I wasn’t expecting. Even though I like to make sure that what was planned is made. As I’m also an editor, I know how much a change made in the heat of the moment, which at the time seems to make perfect sense, often can become a problem in the timeline. It’s always good to have what has been studied and planned and also some more risky options. When it comes to a comedy, this seems even more important.

By putting the people who work with me in front of the camera, the film naturally highlights an LGBT community, because these are the people I’ve been working with on my latest films. Or who have worked with Ticiana on other projects from our production company. We believe in the importance of forming more inclusive crews, but in the end people are invited because they are professionals we admire, trust, and enjoy working with. Linga Acácio, for example, who plays the role of the director of photography, was the director of photography on my last feature, Estranho Caminho (A Strange Path)—and won the award for Best Cinematography at the Tribeca Festival–, and on a feature film I made in 2016, called The Strange Case of Ezequiel, before she transitioned. Noá, with whom I also worked on my last film—and who had a short film produced by our production company in 2016—, was invited to be the lead because I think she is a great actress and because I really wanted to work with her. I didn’t write the character of Madalena with her in mind, but when the idea of ​​inviting her came up, I was sure she would shine in the role. And I believe in a cinema that is free enough for a trans woman to play a pregnant cis woman, without it being justified or thematized, but simply lived intensely. For me, queer cinema is a cinema that inspires freedom, that seeks to displace borders, to tear down moral walls, and my interest in it is both aesthetic and political.

I think that all the films I’ve ever made have a sense of humour and comedic elements to a greater or lesser extent. Whether they’re ironic, satirical or mocking, the films never take themselves too seriously. Here in Ceará, the state where I was born and where I live, we have a very strong sense of humour. It’s strongly present in the way we see life and deal with our problems. It’s a cultural fact. The best comedians in the country are from here. In Morte e Vida Madalena I decided to bet on that, on comedy as the dominant genre. Maybe because I was talking about my own work, about a universe that I’m part of and that constitutes me, it didn’t make sense for me to adopt a serious tone. Also to avoid any idealism or romanticisation. And because I really prefer to laugh at our problems than to be devoured by them. Laughter is a very powerful weapon, in fact. Here we use it every day.