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Dopo essere stati buoni amici per anni, Martin e Tomaz si trovano ora alle soglie dell’età adulta. Il padre di Martin manda suo figlio nel sud del Brasile, da dove la famiglia proviene, per risolvere una questione legata ad una eredità. Martin invita Tomaz ad accompagnarlo e Tomaz accetta immediatamente, sperando di riallacciare l’amicizia. Per entrambi, la breve escursione nei paesaggi freddi e deserti delle coste del Sud del Brasile diventa un viaggio in se stessi, che li porta ad esplorare le cause della strana distanza che nacque tra loro in passato. In seguito al rifiuto dei familiari di Martin di ospitarli, i due trovano riparo in una casa di vetro in riva al mare. Non sarà solo il mare in tempesta che raggiunge quasi la porta della casa ad esercitare una lenta, ma inesorabile forza di attrazione tra di loro. Questa ispirata e autobiografica opera prima di Philip Matzembacher e Marcio Reolon, cosi ricca di atmosfera, segue i suoi due personaggi principali durante un fine settimana che cambierà per sempre i rapporti tra di loro. Beira-Mar è un cammino attraverso le terre di confine tra l’amore e l’amicizia, l’orientamento sessuale e l’esplorazione dell’identità personale. La macchina da presa riesce a riprendere i complessi stati emotivi dei protagonisti allo stesso modo in cui la colonna sonora cattura il fragore del mare: dolce e potente allo stesso tempo. Il film crea un momento di magia e di tenerezza. Cercare l’amore e trovarlo a volte sono la stessa cosa. (Berlinale)



trailer: Seashore



It’s a confusing time, a young man approaching adulthood. Questions begin to arise for the first time, personal questions that may have never been explored, as everyone endeavours to fit in with the social norm. These themes of innocence and personal identity are rife throughout Filipe Matzembacher and Marcio Reolon’s joint debut feature Seashore.seashore
The film, in the prestigious forum section of this year’s Berlinale, is an excitingly raw coming-of-age story that follows childhood friends Martin and Tomaz on the cusp of manhood as they travel to the coast of Southern Brazil. Martin’s father has willfully sent his son to settle an inheritance matter, with long-time friend Tomaz happily accompanying him.
From the beginning of the film, the directors create a rich atmospheric tone to the work. Both main characters’ long contemplative gazes are clever focal points through which the viewer can identify with the themes. Credit must also go to cinematographer João Gabriel de Queiroz, who is unrelenting in capturing each element of the characters’ developing identities. The musical score from Felipe Puperi captures the roaring of the sea: gentle and powerful in equal measure. Always on an equal footing with the subject and the characters, it helps achieve a well-rounded film. A confrontational subject matter for some, what Seashore truly achieves with its tenderness and sensibility is the emotion of a forgotten age, where love, sexuality and personal identity are all relatively new agendas. VOTO: 4/5 (Tim Mead,


The melancholy inertia of a provincial beach town in winter sets the tone in Seashore, and for much of this unhurried Brazilian mood piece that spell remains more pervasive than the muted sexual tension and unexpressed yearning that find eventual release between two late-adolescent males. Writer-director team Filipe Matzembacher and Marcio Reolon build some emotional potency toward the end, and the lead actors inhabit their roles with admirable sensitivity. But while it’s clearly loaded with personal investment, this is a movie about youth and sexuality in which the restrained approach too often translates as lethargy.
The drama is an intimate chronicle of a weekend trip between longtime friends who have begun to grow apart. While the filmmakers have stripped their exposition down to the bone, they signal the nature of the journey a little too pointedly in the lyrics of the lo-fi Daniel Johnston song “My Life is Starting Over,” heard on the car stereo at the outset.
Martin (Mateus Almada) has been sent by his father to retrieve what appears to be an inheritance-related document from the family of his recently deceased, estranged grandfather on the extreme southern coast. Tomaz (Mauricio Jose Barcellos) accompanies him, seemingly hoping to regain some of their former closeness. They stay in a large beach house belonging to Martin’s father, who is depicted indirectly as a difficult and unyielding man. That would certainly explain the chilly welcome given to Martin when he attempts to carry out his assigned task.
The deserted beach under a cold gray sky, backed by the somber accompaniment of wind and waves, provides the backdrop against which Martin and Tomaz shuffle around their unresolved feelings toward one another. Joao Gabriel de Quieroz’s handheld camera crowds in on the two characters with probing intensity, but for much of the running time they avoid emotional openness. The directors stir in teasing hints of an erotic undercurrent, such as having them sit side by side on a couch playing a videogame with what looks like masturbatory frenzy. But the conversation is mostly impersonal, even dull.
When Tomaz’s old friend Natalia (Elisa Brites) attempts to nudge them together during a small gathering at the house, their mutual awkwardness becomes uncomfortable. They spring apart again, and Martin sleeps with one of the girls at the party while Tomaz gets drunk to escape the advances of another.
Only the next day, when Tomaz is hung over and Martin has made something of a breakthrough with his grandpa’s family does the distance start to dissolve between them. It’s more than an hour into the movie before it even becomes clear that Tomaz is openly gay and Martin is aware of this. So while the setup implies an inevitable revelation and potential conflict, the delicate drama is actually a far more minor-key exploration of personal growth, identity and transition through desire and discovery.
There are some beautiful moments, though for most audiences, it’s likely that too little happens for too long to make it worth the wait for the tender sensuality of the concluding scenes. Throughout, Seashore remains both languorous and reticent. However, viewers with the patience for a contemplative approach may respond to the transparent performances of the unselfconscious actors and to the elegant ambiguity of their characters’ relationship as the film ends. (David Rooney,

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