From the moment of its first appearance, at the Cannes Film Festival
in 1959 -- where it won the Grand Prize -- it was clear that Black
Orpheus was a very special film. Taking the Ancient Greek legend
of a youth who traveled to the land of the dead to bring back the
woman he loved, and transporting it to the slums of modern day Rio de
Janiero, this bittersweet romantic tragedy has charmed audiences the
world over with its beauty, color, and -- above all -- its music. In
fact so important is Black Orpheus' musical dimension that you
might say the film's roots aren't in images but rather in sounds.
The first shot shows an ancient frieze of the lovers, Orpheus and Eurydice. But what grabs your attention as it hits the screen is the sound of the music playing underneath it -- a guitar softly strumming the chords of the film's main musical theme. A mood of quiet reverie is created only to be shattered almost immediately as the frieze explodes before our eyes, only to be replaced by a series of fast-moving shots of dancers preparing for a carnival celebration. But even these colorful sights are undercut by a sound that beginning here runs through the entire length of the film -- the eruptive, convulsive, infectious beat of the Latin American pop sound known as "bossa nova."
Though "bossa nova" had been the cornerstone of Latin American music for many years, it's safe to say that prior to the release of Black Orpheus the world at large had never really heard it before. The film changed the world of music overnight. Its composers, Antonio Carlos Jobim and Luis Bonfa, became international stars. The Black Orpheus soundtrack sold millions of copies. The film's main themes "Manha de Carnival" and "O Nossa Amor" permeated the public consciousness in a way that hadn't been seen since Anton Karas' unforgettable zither theme for The Third Man. But make no mistake, none of these musical glories would have been possible without the film that holds them all together -- Black Orpheus.
The Orpheus of legend was the son of the gods Apollo and Calliope. His singing tamed wild beasts and quieted raging rivers. The Orpheus of the film is a lowly streetcar conductor whose singing makes him a favorite of the slum neighborhood where he lives. The original Eurydice was likewise high-born when compared to the film's heroine -- a simple country girl visiting the big city of Rio for the first time in her life. Ordinarily saddling such everyday characters with mythological barnacles would make for dramatic awkwardness. But thanks to the context of carnival it all works perfectly. A once-a-year blowout where rich and poor alike can masquerade in whatever identities they choose, carnival is the ideal setting for sliding a mythical mask over commonplace reality. And director Marcel Camus proves to be quite adept at juggling this balancing act between the fantastic and the real.
The figure of Death that pursues Eurydice through the streets of
Rio could be the literal personification of fate -- or an everyday
maniac of the sort to be found on the streets of any major
city. Likewise Eurydice's death from a streetcar cable is a neat
transposition of the original legend in which she died from a
serpent's bite on her leg. Best of all is the film's climax where
Orpheus visits the underworld, here represented by Rio's Bureau of
Missing Persons, and a Macumba ceremony where he tries to make contact
with his dead love. As in the legend, the story of the film ends on an
unhappy note. Still, this nominally sad conclusion is undercut by the
spirit of the largely nonprofessional cast (Breno Mello was a champion
soccer player, Marpessa Dawn a dancer from Pittsburgh), director
Camus' obvious love for the city of Rio and its people, and by the
joyous, rapturous, unforgettable musical score.
-- DAVID EHRENSTEIN
  
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