Brazil’s official entry at the 94th Academy Awards’ Best International Feature Film category was Aly Muritiba’s Deserto Particular (or Private Desert). The film tells the story of 40 year-old Daniel (Antonio Saboia), a policeman who, on forced leave after excessively violent behaviour, travels across the country to search for his internet lover, Sara (Pedro Fasanaro), who’s suddenly stopped communication. However, when Daniel questions the neighbours and citizens of Sara’s small town, and shares her photo with them, nobody seems to recognize her. Until, that is, a strange man named Fernando (Thomas Aquino) comes forward with the promise of connecting Daniel to Sara under very specific conditions.
“It’s a love story that brings together opposites,” says Muritiba in our interview below. “It may start out as romantic love, but then it develops into another kind of love.” Indeed, Deserto Particular is a deeply sensitive examination of love, gender, and queerness set against a backdrop of toxic masculinity and conservative social ideals. Daniel represents the old-fashioned view of what it means to be a man (rough, gruff, and stoic), while Sara (later revealed to be a young man named Robson) represents the modern, softer, and more emotionally accessible ideas of masculinity. “The cold and conservative Brazil of the south, the warmer and freer Brazil of the northeast.”
Deserto Particular premiered in Venice Giornate Degli Autori, where it ultimately won the BNL People’s Choice Award. It was up against 92 other countries in the Best International Feature Film category at the Academy Awards. Being representative of Brazilian cinema is a moment that isn’t lost on Muritiba: “Brazil has a history of social issue cinema, and my film is part of this tradition. But it also points to a new path, a path of hope.”
First of all, may I just say how magnificent your film is! I’m curious to know where this story started for you? What inspired it?
The original script telling the story of a man who falls in love with a woman he virtually knows is by Henrique dos Santos, co-writer of the film who invited me to write this story with him. In the beginning, Deserto Particular was a drama of discordance, a film that spoke of the way things are. And they are very painful and difficult. But little by little, as we worked and discussed what kind of emotions we wanted to provoke in people, it became a love story. The escalation of hatred in my country has entered since the election of Jair Bolsonaro has contributed to this. I was fed up with so much bad news, so much violence and hate speech. So I decided to make this movie no longer about how things are, but how they can be. And they can be different, better and more positive.
The film examines and incites conversations about masculinity, the role (and reputation) of the police force, gender expression, and queerness, all of which are very topical today both in Brazil and many other parts of the world. What are you hoping viewers will take away from your film?
Deserto Particular is a film of great affection, in which deserts meet. It’s a love story that brings together opposites. It may start out as romantic love, but then it develops into another kind of love. I would very much like that if someone were to look for my movie in a hypothetical video store, they would find it on the love movie shelf. But it’s also a movie about masculinity. About what it’s like to be “male” in Brazil. To grow up as a man in my country is to grow up under the sign of violence. All our training as men is based on the imposing use of force and oppression. And this is obviously much more acute in the police world. So I chose as my protagonist this man educated in violent and heteronormative logic, but who, thanks to desire and affection, thanks to love, is able to change and become a better person. The film is about that, about the redeeming capacity of love, encounters and tolerance. And that’s what I hope the viewer will take with them at the end of the session. Much love.
The film’s opening credits don’t show up until about half an hour into the film. Daniel’s professional and personal circumstances are starting to cave in on him, he’s about to face the impending consequences of his actions, and he leaves town to drive across the country to find Sara. It’s a very marked moment of separation because we don’t travel back with Daniel at the end of the film. How important was it for you to take the time in the beginning to really situate the audience in Daniel’s life? What do you imagine happens to him when he returns home?
I honestly don’t know if Daniel will return home or if, fulfilling Robson’s grandfather’s destiny, he will stay in Sobradinho and become a fisherman. Anyway, if he comes home, he’ll be a much better man, he’ll take the consequences of his mistake, and he’ll be a kinder brother.
The film has a long prologue in which we present Daniel’s routine in southern Brazil. I spend a lot of time on this so that the viewer can understand what Daniel is running away from and what he is looking for (even if unconsciously) when he decides to leave. Without establishing the oppressive background in which Daniel lives, it would be impossible to release him at the end of the journey. Rather, he needed to show how hard and violent his surroundings were, and then flood him with affection (something he doesn’t have or know how to express), break it and finally transform it.
What I loved about Deserto Particular was how it felt like a diptych of, on the one hand, Daniel’s journey of self-discovery and, on the other, Robson/Sara’s journey of self-becoming. Both narratives explore masculinity and queerness as it relates to social location, but each offers nuanced perspectives. Can you talk more about your decision to structure the film in this way?
My film is a film that brings together two very different worlds that need to learn to coexist. It is also about the different Brazils that exist within the same Brazil. The cold and conservative Brazil of the south, the warmer and freer Brazil of the northeast. It is also about the different models of masculinity, the archaic, represented in Daniel, and the new, represented in Robson. So I decided that I would split the film into three parts conducted by two protagonists. The first part takes on the point of view of Daniel and his loneliness, the second with Robson/Sara and his desire to be free, and finally a third part about the encounter that transforms them.
Another thing that especially stood out to me was the soundtrack. There was a range of songs (in both genre and language), and each song really cemented the emotion of the scenes they appear in, which, to me, was particularly powerful because there are a lot of either silences or words left unsaid between the characters. How did you go about selecting the music?
I’m a musical guy. Everything I do I’m listening to music. Actually, I never wanted to be a filmmaker, I really wanted to be a singer. I even had a band and made a record, but it was terrible, I must admit. So I wrote Deserto Particular listening to most of the songs that play in the movie. When I decided that this movie was going to be a melodramatic road movie, I started to think of the songs as commentators on the scenes. So yes, often the songs are there to comment or add up what the characters say or keep silent.
Your film was chosen as Brazil’s international entry for the Academy Awards–congratulations! How does it feel to have your film (which challenges many people’s understanding of life, love, and people) be a sort of representative of Brazilian cinema? Do you think this moment gestures towards a deeper significance about where Brazilian cinema is right now (or where it’s going)?
It is symptomatic to have a queer movie about love representing Brazil in the Oscars race during the Bolsonaro government. Brazil is the country with the highest rates of LGBTQIA+ murders, and Deserto Particular appears to offer another perspective, another possible world: a sheltering world. Brazil has a history of social issue cinema, and my film is part of this tradition. But it also points to a new path, a path of hope.
