Saulo Pereira De Mello, the Man Who Saved Limite Walter Salles The
Total Page:16
File Type:pdf, Size:1020Kb
Saulo Pereira de Mello, the man who saved Limite Walter Salles The news set fire to the corridors of the National Faculty of Philosophy. "Limite", by Mario Peixoto, would be projected in the college auditorium. The film had disappeared from circulation since its inaugural screening at the Chaplin Club in 1931. Among the young students who discovered it that day in 1953 was Saulo Pereira de Mello. He was 21 years old, the same age as Mario when he directed the film. A sea sparkling in the backlight took the screen, merging with the image of a woman looking at the spectator, handcuffs on his fists. Throughout the projection, Saulo felt a rapture he had never seen before. There would be one before and after that experience in his life, and in the history of the film. Everything in "Limite" enchanted him. In his words: "the utopian desire of finite man to apprehend the infinite world"; "the organization of the story of three castaways, with periodic turns to the boat in which they seek to survive"; "the flow of luminous images, determined by a rhythmic daring and complex"; "'Limit' does not reproduce the visible, it makes visible". Plínio Sussekind Rocha, the physics teacher who had organized the session, noticed Saulo's stupor regarding "Limite", and asked him : "The film is getting lost. Aren't you going to do anything? Are you going to let a film like that disappear?" The answer to these questions would fill Saulo Pereira de Mello's entire life. "Limit" was filmed in nitrate, a flammable negative that can go into self combustion. The few remaining copies were in tatters. The young man decided to restore the film, reproducing it frame by frame, trapping his Pentax in a traquitana assembled at home. He came home from work and went through the dawn in the thorough restoration of the film. Once, when he returned from São Paulo with part of the negative, the plane faced a dark storm. At the height of the turbulence, I could only think of one thing: "If that plane crashes, it is the end of 'Limite'". The first restoration, which Saulo completed in the early 70's and whose authorship he made a point of sharing with Plínio Sussekind, is one of the most prodigious achievements in the history of Brazilian cinema. Mário Peixoto's film could finally be seen by generations who had only heard about it until then. Many of us through Vinicius de Moraes, first-time admirer of the film. In the family tree of cinema, Vinicius wrote, "Limite" was like a little bird that landed on one of its branches and took off again. An unclassifiable film, essentially free. The experience of the restoration allowed Saulo to create a unique tool: the "Limite Map", a book that revisited the work frame by frame. Edited by Funarte in 1976 and now sold out, the "Map" is a gem. "For Saulo, it was essential to live the film within himself in all its forms. To see, to see, to review until finding something rare and sublime", says Filiippi Fernandes Silva, his assistant at the Mário Peixoto Archive for over 12 years. The years of reconstitution of "Limite" also marked Saulo's immersion in what he considered the most creative phase in the history of cinema, that of the end of silent films. He venerated "The Passion of Joan of Arc" by Dreyer, "The Mother" by Pudovkin, "The Man of Aran" by Flaherty, "Lights of the City" by Chaplin, "October" by Eisenstein. The brothers from "Limite", according to Saul. He wrote numerous essays on these films. Cinema was a living matter, which deserved to be shared. Throughout the 22 years that Saulo was at the head of the Mário Peixoto Archive, always next to Ayla, a life companion, about a hundred master's or doctoral theses were written from the critical fortune he amassed. He edited all of Mario Peixoto's poetic work and his novel "O inutil de cada um," with the precious help of Roberta Gnatalli. He made a point of making available all books that spoke of "Limite" - good or bad, it did not matter to him. Roberta recalls how Saulo "liked to distribute his findings, ideas and theories, and did so largely". He promoted sessions of the films he loved for anyone interested, from students to screenwriters. The discussions went into the night. I remember two particular moments. In "The Passion of Joan of Arc", in the scene where the protagonist hears her death sentence, Saulo caught his breath. The close- up camera hits the protagonist's face, and a fly lands on her. The actress doesn't sketch a reaction. The incorporation of the accident (the insect) and the state of absence of the character reveal the magnitude of the inner drama, transcending the sphere of reality, Saulo pointed out to us. The projection of Eisenstein's "The General Line" allowed him to show that even in an imperfect film it was possible to point out some extraordinary sequences. The peasants' revolt against the religious authorities who had waved a false promise of rain was one of them. The escalation of violence in the insurrection against the deceitful is a class of direction and editing, which left the eyes of Saulo glowing. It was that night that he confessed: "I don't like cinema. I like certain films." In the early 2000s, the first "Limite" restoration began to deteriorate. Some rolls were already avinagrado. The second struggle to save "Limite" had begun. Luckily, Saulo counted on the complicity and rare competence of Patricia de Filippi, then technical director of restoration of the Cinemateca Brasileira. "We started together to assemble the puzzle of the film: different materials and assemblies, use of films with different bases, truths and lies, a dig without size". It was another ten years of work, with the support of Martin Scorsese's Film Foundation and the Cinemateca de Bologna, until I found the same contrast in nitrate that only Saulo knew. He was, at that time, the living memory of the film. When Saulo approved the digital restoration, on the last day of work, Patricia recalls that "he anticipated each plan, saying what would be important to notice in the next - and the next and the next... it was a trial of two hours. It wasn't nitrate, but the grain was there, the high and low lights and the half tones too". And then there was the battle of credits. "Saul was very generous in wanting our names next to his on the credit card. We insisted that only he should be credited," recalls Patricia. "Saulo replied with a letter inspired by the famous phrase in Shakespeare's play 'Henry V': 'We few, we happy few, we band of brothers'... And so it was. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers, winning the fight." "Limite": in 2015, critics elected Mário Peixoto's feature film the best Brazilian film There would be much more to say of Saul. Of his pollinating role, influencing young filmmakers. From his conversations with Eduardo Coutinho, who shared ideas with him, between two cafés. From the little pampering with which he offered his friends at work. The most popular was the homemade guava that he made, "pecadillo" whose recipe was so unique that it ended up published in the pages of "Piauí" magazine. At the age of 80 and a few years, he had multiple projects. He set up a "Cinemateca mínima", with scenes from 14 films he thought were fundamental. He finished the map of "Earth", by Dovzhenko. He planned to improve the "Limite Map", and prepare the maps of "The Man of Aran" and "Lights of the City". They would be even more essential without the description of the frames. Alzheimer's and Covid-19 didn't allow it. At this time when we are all a bit castaways like the characters in Mário Peixoto's film, and have the notion of our extreme fragility in a country adrift, Saulo Pereira de Mello's life and work are a breath of fresh air. Until the end he remained faithful to himself. He kept the rigor, the intransigence and the generosity of the 21 year old boy who one day saw "Limite" on the immense screen of cinema, and fell in love. Walter Salles is a filmmaker. https://oglobo.globo.com/cultura/filmes/ .