Directed by Karim Aïnouz
Starring Julia Stockler, Carol Duarte and Flávia Gusmão
MPAA rating: R for strong sexual content/graphic nudity and some drug use
Running time: 2 hours and 19 minutes

by Ashley Jane

“I have a new family. It is this one that I should devote myself to… I’ve created a new bond, someone who loves me unconditionally. Family is not blood. It is love.”

In director Karim Aïnouz’s beautifully heartbreaking film Invisible Life, we follow two sisters living in 1950s Rio de Janeiro. Guida (Julia Stockler) is the eldest sister, young and in love with a sailor from Greece who she is planning to run away with. Eurídice (Carol Duarte) is the younger sister with no romantic aspirations, but musical ones, as she is a very gifted pianist. Dad is, well, an asshole? An oppressively traditional type whose concern is to impress members of the community, while not giving a damn about his own family. Mom seems like a loving and caring woman, but in this society, is simply a fearful shadow of her husband who doesn’t express thoughts of her own. Ahh the 1950s. Take it all in, folks. 

Guida does leave home but her relationship ends up being nothing like she was hoping for. Pregnant and without money, she returns in hopes of being welcomed back by her loving parents and sister. Instead she is shunned, being disowned and thrown back onto the streets by her disgusted (and disgusting) father to fend for herself. She inquires to at least know where her beloved sister is. In comes the lie that will change the lives of each member of the family, particularly the sisters, forever. Dad tells Guida that Eurídice has moved to Vienna to study piano, like she always wanted. Guida is sad to miss seeing her, but happy at least to know that her sister has followed her dreams rather than being forced into marriage and motherhood, as is the norm. However, as we the audience already know, this couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

Eurídice is still living in the same city, having been married off in the least joyful wedding scene I have ever observed in a movie. She cringes every time her grossly entitled husband touches her and is terrified of becoming pregnant. I mean, terrified. Naturally, she becomes pregnant. So we have two sisters, both with babies, stuck living in the same city, while believing each other to be in different countries living their dreams. They each send letters home, hoping for their mother to pass them on, yet as you can imagine, the letters aren’t shared.

I wish this movie was shorter. It settles into a pattern of piling setback on top of setback, seemingly endlessly, over years in a way that became hard to take. Despite being perennially stuck in circumstances they never planned for or wanted, it is rewarding to see how each woman’s inner strength shone through. Eurídice keeps at her passion for music while being a loving (although initially reluctant) mother. Guida chooses her own family and works hard to care for them, both in and out of the home. There are scenes of happiness, yet they are always tinged with a sadness – a longing to share any little moments of joy with the sister they so dearly miss.

The colors were deeply warm and vibrant. The cinematography was dense and oddly humid? I almost felt like I was there, rather than in my cold little apartment in Canada. I especially appreciated the sound design – there was one scene where Eurídice is returning home after getting some particularly upsetting news and with each heavy step she took up the stairs to her apartment, you could hear her friend beating an area rug in the courtyard next door - a great example of how effective sound can be to accentuate a character’s feelings in ways other than a score.

However beautiful visually and sonically this movie is, there were many scenes of discomfort for me. I saw myself in both sisters for different reasons - in their feelings, motivations, and actions. But Eurídice’s experiences resonated with me to an almost spooky degree. On another note, the interactions between men and women were upsetting. Especially disagreeable were the depictions of sex, which were uncomfortable to say the least. These encounters did not stem from a place of love or intimacy, but rather were depicted as a right owed to men, a form of currency or a toll needed to pay for the luxury of being a degraded woman. Eugh. No thanks.

This well-made and earnestly acted movie shows how the manipulation of selfish men in a patriarchal society robs women of what they deserve as equals, individually and collectively – the freedom to choose their own paths. It’s a portrait of a particular generation of women, but also testifies to the trials of being a woman in any time. It’s a movie about missed opportunities. Each sister missed out on so much, but most tragically, on being sisters. Conversely, it’s also about perseverance and hope. You don’t have to physically be with someone to be a part of their lives. The connection between two people can extend lifetimes and push beyond any borders.

Look. I admit that I am a highly sensitive little puppy. Despite all the upsetting things going on in this movie, I held it together. That is, until the last 15 minutes or so, during which I wept in a way I never have while watching any other movie. It was litchrilly an explosion of tears, rendering my notebook almost illegible. Fernanda Montenegro’s performance, despite barely uttering more than a few words, is something I will never forget. I don’t wish the ending was different. This is life. But in my heart of hearts I just wanted more for both sisters.

In the days following seeing this movie, I have really pondered over how fitting the title of this film is. It also could be called Invisible Lives, in recognition of all the female characters we meet in the movie (and in our daily lives), whether we know little or much about them. Their pain, their joy, their ambitions, their fears, their desires, and their accomplishments ultimately are invisible to a society that doesn’t care, but instead tries to squander their potential and repress them. Yet all of this is *felt*, like the heavy, muggy air the characters breathe in day in and day out. Let’s never kid ourselves: Women are strong.

“I wish you were proud of me. As proud of being my sister as I am proud of being yours. But every day this seems to become more impossible as every day I become less Guida.”

“I know I am a disappointment to you, my sister. I know.”

*Now playing in select theaters