"Arabian Nights, Vol. 1" is a brave piece of filmmaking

Without a doubt, the most ambitious film shown in this year's Cannes International Film Festival or, for that matter, the most ambitious offering from world cinema this year is Miguel Gomes' "Arabian Nights" (2015, Portugal), a three-part epic based on the literary classic One Thousand and One Nights. The ambition doesn't simply pertain to mere logistics (budget, production, casting, etc), but, more importantly, also to the serious intent of putting under the spotlight Portugal's contemporary socio-economic woes and maladies, by way of the aforementioned literary collection of Mid-Eastern tales. Filipino cineastes just had the unimaginable fortune of being able to see Gomes' epic on the big screen, as it was part of the selection in the World Cinema section of the recently-concluded Cinema One Originals (Nov. 9-17 at Megamall, Trinoma, Glorietta and Resorts World cinemas). This film being shown in our local cinemas is like a now-or-never situation. 

"Arabian Nights" is just Gomes' fourth full-length film and even with such a short filmography so far, his works aren't that easy to like. I must admit that I'm still quite at a loss as to how to fully appreciate his debut "The Face You Deserve" and the arthouse hit "Tabu". The narrative is ambiguous and esoteric;the technique is playful and unconventional. Had Gomes been French and lived through the 60s, he might as well have pioneered the French New Wave film movement the same way Godard did. "Arabian Nights" is no different: it still bears the filmmaker's distinct verve and audacity. Shouldn't be otherwise, because with a project that's inherently bold and grand as this one, no other than a filmmaker of Gomes' caliber should be the one handling it. 

This particular piece is about the first volume, "The Restless One". The technique and style that Gomes employs in this one likewise brim with boundless playfulness and imagination. But beneath such a seemingly light cinematics lies a political stance that's hard-hitting and unapologetic. The filmmaker (along with co-screenwriters and frequent collaborators Telmo Churro and Mariana Ricardo) may have used as a framing device Scheherazade's attempt to save her life from an impending persecution by telling her husband, the vengeful Shahryar, deliberately "incomplete" tales so that they may be continued for an indeterminate number of nights, but he minces no words in attacking his country's general economic austerity policy that makes life even harder, instead of the other way around, for his fellowmen, especially for the hard-earning working class. The political rhetoric is acerbic, angry and inflammatory, which then makes the film one such brave manifesto. And I'm actually wondering why it seems that Gomes didn't get any censure or backlash from his country's government. Had it been another time and place, the filmmaker may have then suffered a prophet's fate, like imprisonment, banishment or even worse. If there's indeed such a leniency and tolerance, then it's something that an artist like Luis Buñuel or Zhang Yimou or Jafar Panahi could only dream of. 

The "restless" description couldn't have suited the first volume better, for it freely juggles together fact and fiction, reality and fantasy, documentary and feature drama in its narrative. And true to the form of the literary classic itself, one particular story may branch out into another story or may have characters who will have their own stories to tell which, in turn, can very well stand on their own. Symbols, metaphors, allegories and subtexts abound in these stories that may overwhelm even discerning viewers who aren't quite amenable to Gomes' brand of audacious filmmaking or may appeal to those who prefer such a challenging intellectual feast in their viewing habits. If "The Face You Deserve" and "Tabu" were something that I wasn't quite able to have a full appreciation of, then I was somehow already prepared to have the same experience with "Arabian Nights". Still, despite the density and complexity of the form, the film's content is hardly to be dismissed or taken for granted. For economic instability, political manipulation, government ineptitude and the plight of the masses (or of the working class) are themes that are universal as they can be. 

The most telling moments of "The Restless One" include the tale of The Men with Hard-Ons, in which the perennial virility of the country's major policy- and decision-makers (a politician, a banker, a businessman, a finance manager) represents both as a blessing and a curse, in that while it enhances their chauvinism it can also prove to be their downfall when it already becomes too much to handle. Gomes appears to say in this part that all the major national policies laid down in his country aren't really utilitarian in nature, but merely feed the ego of the powerful few which, sooner or later, may actually backfire on them, as a kind of poetic justice. 

Another is the story of The Three Magnificents, which shows three real-life workers (can be really four, if we'll include the wife of the one) who were brought to unemployment as a result of the so-called economic austerity program. The first magnificent's long monologue, wherein it's only him that we see onscreen as the camera slowly moves in on him, is moving, insightful, startling and poignant, something that will hold your breath as he intently details his travails as a worker - the dreams nurtured, the hopes dashed, the regrets faced - which could almost amount to a labor manifesto. 

And there's the early part in which we see the filmmaker himself, Gomes, together with his crew, seemingly in a gloomy and lost state, as he finds himself in a crisis as to the why and how of the film that he's supposed to start. Later on, in a kind of eureka, he simply decides to literally run away from the project, leaving his crew in shambles and which then serves as an "instigation" for the fictional character of Scheherazade (played by Crista Alfaiate, who will then go on to play other characters in the epic) to come out and provide stories in the film

as we know it. It seems here that Gomes is tipping his hat off to Federico Fellini and "8 1/2". Only this time, instead of being surrounded by all the women in his life (as did Guido Anselmi or, well, Fellini), Gomes is in fact beset by the social and economic woes of his mother-country. 

After seeing "The Restless One", I felt like I had once again experienced cinema in an altogether different and unique way. 

(Next: "The Desolate One")

Miguel Gomes' "Arabian Nights, Vol. 1: The Restless One": Beneath the playful cinematics is a hard-hitting political stance