
Karim Aïnouz on the set of O Céu de Suely. All images courtesy of the filmmaker.
Karim Aïnouz and I met in New York in 1991, in the scene surrounding the revival of Anthology Film Archives and the renewed passion for Super-8 films among young filmmakers. Aïnouz was studying cinema and making his second short film, Seams; I was spending time between New York and Boston, working on a documentary for WGBH and curating a program for the Mix Festival. Since then, he has led a peripatetic life, living in many different countries and traveling around the world over and over again. The son of a Brazilian mother and an Algerian father, Aïnouz claims more than one nationality and speaks several languages fluently. He also belongs to a group of Brazilian filmmakers who, after living outside the country for many years, have returned to Brazil in order to continue working. The truth is that Madame Satã and O Céu de Suely (Love for Sale), his two feature films, could never have been made here in the United States. At their center lies a foreign language (and it is not even Spanish). Aïnouz’s films touch on universal taboos such as homosexuality and prostitution; they have to be filmed far from studios, and so are only given limited distribution. Making films in Brazil, however, attracts the notice of the European market: It gives you a better chance of finding financing from countries such as France and Portugal, and participating in the most important European festivals helps you get a better distribution deal. In Brazil filmmakers like Aïnouz can take more risks. Both Satã and O Céu de Suely are character-driven films with distinct styles—one with a captivating playfulness, the latter, with a confined lust—that respect the pacing or mood of each of their subjects. Both films exhale a scent of what we see on the screen: the ocean, a dirty wall, an armpit. It is good to be back in Brazil, even if it’s just for the time it takes for Aïnouz to spin his glorious tales.