Watching films set in different countries is a great way to both inspire and briefly satiated wanderlust because it’s a chance to explore worlds and settings different from your own. However, for the characters on the screen often times regardless of how picture-esque the setting, it’s mundane for them. Something they are unable to appreciate, or perhaps even the place they wish to escape, or that others tell them they should. That is true in Légua the contemplative sophomore narrative feature from directors João Miller Guerra (who also credited for the screenplay along with Sara Morais and José Filipe Costa) and Filipa Reis that serves as a character study of Ana (played by Carla Maciel) and Emília (played by Fátima Soares) and the bonds that hold us to a place, even if it would be easier, or make more sense to let go.
In a small rural community in Northern Portugal, Emília is employed as the housekeeper and Ana the maid for a manor house where the owners are never present. However, under Emília’s insistence, the pair diligently take care of the house, even if Ana complains that the owners would never notice a crease in the sheets because Emília wants things done right. This is one of the reasons her husband and her daughter want her to leave the job and move with him to a better-paying service industry job in France (the husband also wants them to be together sexually; they have a passionate sexual relationship). However, Emília’s health quickly deteriorates, so Ana rebukes both her husband’s and daughter’s attempts to get her to leave the house. Employment at the house, and working under Emília, have meant a lot to their family in the past so regardless of how Emília treats her, she needs her now. So, she steps up as the sole caregiver for the manor and housekeeper.
The film opens with a very pretty surreal shot of a white owl. If it wasn’t for this opening, I would’ve been ill-prepared for a sequence near the end of the film – that also happened to include the owl amongst other images. Because other than these couple of moments, the film plays for more realism. This lends to the pacing of the latter half of the film moving slower, mirroring Emília’s condition worsening. Some viewers may find this pacing to drag on, but I found myself swept into the rhythm of the piece as Ana did her best to keep Emília and the manor moving forward, one day at a time.
When you view enough films from various festivals certain trends do start to emerge, things that one festival leans into more than others. And the films that screen at Cannes, whether in the main festival or in one of the parallel festivals/sidebars (Directors’ Fortnight, Critics Week, etc.), I’ve noticed a higher quantity of sex (though that could just be the films I’ve seen from Cannes over the years). The trend continued in the majority of the Cannes films I saw this year. The sex scene in Légua was fun, passionate, and creative, and, while I would argue it provided wonderful context and added more conflict when Ana decides to stay instead of leave with her husband (allowing us to know there is love and passion there), of the films I saw it was the only one that could’ve in theory been cut. Which is sad, because while in the other films the sex scenes were narratively driven, they were also mostly trauma-driven and therefore less fun. I hope this is just my small sampling, and not the overall trend.
Légua had its World Premiere in the Directors’ Fortnight section at Cannes.
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