Tabu

Overview

Portuguese filmmaker Miguel Gomes' latest outing, Tabu, is a beguiling slow burn of love, melancholia and crocodiles. Shot in nostalgic black and white and bisected, Tabu tells the tale of a woman's life filled with romance, longing and a great deal of hand-wringing.

Part one: Paradise Lost is preceded by an introduction — a film within a film that sets up the motifs that will reappear throughout. The kind-hearted Pilar (Teresa Madruga) is watching in modern-day Lisbon and despite keeping busy with her human rights work and unwanted advances from a friend, she is becoming increasingly worried about her neighbour, Aurora (Laura Soveral). Frail but bolshy, Aurora has gambled away her life at the casino, suffering from the same curse as her father. Convinced that her maid Santa (Isabel Cardoso) is not just working for her but for the devil, too, she turns to Pilar for help. The disconsolate Aurora asks to be put in touch with a man named Gian-Luca.

Part two: Paradise is the story of Aurora and the enigmatic Gian-Luca in their African youth. Aurora’s father has done well for himself in this new landscape, exporting exotic ostrich feather cushions, while the young Aurora (Ana Moreira) has made a name for herself as a rifle-slinging big game hunter, both thriving from colonialism. Described by her tea plantation husband as having a slight "bipolarity", Aurora enters a new state of entitled listlessness when she becomes pregnant.

Her langour is soon soothed by noted heartbreaker Gian-Luca, summoned to catch her as-yet-unnamed pet crocodile. Their illicit affair is set against a backdrop of both the fateful Mount Tabu and the burgeoning Portuguese Colonial War. As the white interlopers relax into their own distractions, their African workers tend to their every whim. Paradise is told only through narration, a conceit that unfolds beautifully. Memories, myths and truths all melding together.

For a film set in two parts, Tabu sits as a cohesive object, as if a semicolon is dangling between the two, despite the switch from dialogue to monologue. It's funny, melancholic, dark and romantic and its beauty is only ever a stone's throw from the realities of invasion, ownership and war. There are deft anachronistic touches throughout — Gian-Luca's band play a cover of 'Baby I Love You' at a party but it’s the Ramones version — which nicely sets the film apart from being a mere biopic of the time. A rare, dreamy, cinematic excursion, Tabu is a must while it's still on the big screen.