User Reviews

A binge-watching of Portuguese auteur-in-the-making Miguel Gomes' Herculean ARABIAN NIGHTS trilogy, his fourth feature, the much-anticipated follow-up after TABU (2012), his critically acclaimed present/past diptych stunner.

Consciously informing audience beforehand with its caption - "The film is not an adaptation of the book ARABIAN NIGHTS despite drawing on its structure", the three volumes of ARABIAN NIGHTS constitute an expansive ethnic dissection of Portugal's burning mire, all the stories told by Scheherazade (Alfaiate) stem from events confined within a single calendar year from August 2013 to July 2014 in Portugal, when its people are stricken with economic austerity and become impoverished, implement by the government which Gomez denounces devoid of social justice.

Volume 2 augurs well for the final volume of the sage, the Enchanted One, seemingly out of a mandatory impulse, Gomez starts with the story of Scheherazade, who has become jaded in her role as a raconteur, she wanders around the island, bemoans that there are so many thing she has never seen, in spite of being the Queen of the kingdom, after brief encounters with sundry characters, including a breeding stud, the Apollonian Paddleman (Cotta, in his dazzling blond allure), an ingenious upside-down shot reveals the other side of her world, the latter-day Portugal, then Scheherazade reunites with her father, the Grand Vizier (Silva) on a Ferris Wheel.

Then, the bulk of Volume 3 is dedicated to the Inebriating Chorus of the Chaffinches, a documentary steadfastly recounts the lives and back stories of the miscellaneous bird lovers living in a shanty town near the airport, where is famous for its chaffinches contest, and the bird- trapping expertise, ultimately it runs the risk of becoming a drag for non-enthusiats of this particular hobby for over-staying its welcome, albeit Gomez's fervent resolution to observing the working class, in hope of sympathy and empathy could be induced through his unyielding effort.

At this step, a litany of detailed texts supplants the voice-over in the narrative, which strains a viewer's concentration, aggravated by the unvarying repetitions of chronological passing, as if the fatigue vicariously transmitted from Scheherazade to viewers, is it doomed to be the last story from her? Gomez even sandwiches a narrative-only snippet in between the docu-disquisition, named Hot Forest, it is told in Mandarin from a Chinese student, who encounters a Portuguese policeman during a police demonstration, becomes his mistress, gets pregnant, then deserted and extradited back to China, where on the screen, some archives of demonstrations are used as the story's visual complement. Interestingly, in this rather thoroughbred ethnological study, Chinese becomes the only intrusion among all three volumes, maybe Gomez intends to signal a warning, please be alert, Europe, the Chinese are coming!

Seen from a bigger picture, this ambitious passion project undeniably demands some formidable perseverance and energy to carry it off, whether its mammoth scale, its comprehensive execution or the lofty vocation to pinpoint a troubled society, each alone could be too overwhelming to debase its holistic value. But individually speaking, it is a portfolio composed of patchy works and buttressed by a miscellany of eclectic music selections. Volume 2 is absolutely the high water mark in comparison, which bears witness to Gomez's humanistic tendre in spirit and facility for conjuring up masterclass artistry in action, that's something worth expecting, hopefully in a more condense structure.

I loved Arabian Nights' first volume and found its second underwhelming in comparison. Fortunately, that spark comes back. On a profound note, the story doubles back on itself as the first vignette focuses on Scheherazade for the first time since the first hour. Like with director Miguel Gomes' earlier appearance, it studies the struggle of having to constantly tell these stories and the limitations that gives her life. However, the film continues on with a story, one which carries the bulk of Vol. 3, as we look into the hobbies and competitions of Portuguese goldfinch keepers, a group of macho men devoted to pushing the envelope with the bird's ability to sing complex songs. While a fine art, it suggests a forced evolution as the finch is noted as the starting point to Darwin's Origin of the Species theories.

This portion is the most reliant on text rather than voice-over as it elaborates each man's life story while showing their diligent focus on raising the birds. They're not working for money here so it's a refreshing break for showing a bigger purpose than employment. Meanwhile, the story takes place for over a week for Scheherazade and it expresses her increasing exasperation silently, mirroring an exasperation with the economic crisis. This volume is perhaps the better made version, with a stronger soundtrack too, though my preference is to Volume 1's unbridled wildness and creativity. This would've been a finer choice for the Oscar submission if Volume 1 wasn't an option. Overall, Arabian Nights is mostly entertaining and always thoughtful, and a much breezier trilogy than one might expect, despite the problems with the mid-section. Many may find it self-indulgent on Gomes' behalf, but for what he's achieved, it's thoroughly warranted.

See the other Volumes for the rest of my review for Arabian Nights.

8/10

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