Featuring: Amália Rodrigues
Narrator: John Ventimiglia
Director: Bruno de Almeida
Producer: Manuel Falcão
Written by: Frank Coelho, Vítor Pavão dos Santos, Artur Ribeiro, Bruno de Almeida
Cinematography: Mustapha Barat
U.S. Distributor: Avatar Films
In Portuguese with subtitles
The Art of Amalia is as straightforward a documentary as is likely to be made. There's nothing technically or stylistically interesting here - the film is static and conventional, a replication of the dime-a-dozen productions found on PBS and A&E. Combining clips from an interview with the late Amalia Rodriguez with footage from her concerts and promotional performances, the movie works as a simple, albeit shallow, biography. Actually, since The Art of Amalia was completed around the time of its subject's death (October 1999), director Bruno de Almeida's movie functions as a tribute to her.
The career of Amalia Rodrigues spanned more than six decades. She first came into the public spotlight during the 1930s, when, as a teenager, her singing of the Portuguese style of song called fado brought her to the attention of those who attended the clubs where she performed. By 1940, Amalia was the biggest name in fado, with her reputation extending beyond the limits of Lisbon and the borders of Portugal. Her talent would soon take her into acting - she made numerous appearances in stage shows and performed in more than a dozen movies (twice winning the Portuguese Best Actress Award). Although best known for fado, Amalia liked to experiment with other kinds of music, including jazz and salsa, and continued performing after her 70th birthday.
The Art of Amalia does three things - it presents a primer of the performer's life for those who either have limited knowledge of her or who have never heard of her, offers a selection of her music (making it especially valuable to her fans), and gives a strong flavor of fado. The movie devotes some time to defining fado - it is variously described as "mournful", "a lament", and "a mystery." At one point, Amalia states that the Portuguese invented fado as a way to express their eternal sorrow. Of course, words are never a good way to explain a kind of music, so the film shows a number of Amalia's best-known fado performances. If you don't know what fado is before seeing The Art of Amalia, you won't have any doubts once the final credits roll.
Where The Art of Amalia fails, however, is in never delving deeper than the surface. Essentially, this is a superficial movie. We learn very little about Amalia's personal life or the factors that made her songs so powerful and enduring. What was the impact of international fame on a poor girl from Lisbon who suddenly found herself the toast of the world? It's a tantalizing question, but one that The Art of Amalia barely addresses, let alone attempts to answer. At one point, Amalia indicates that she was never a happy person and that she should have enjoyed her fame more. Instead of pursuing this remark, however, the director allows it to stand on its own - a frustrating glimpse of the kind of material The Art of Amalia could have explored had it been less interested in presenting an airbrushed portrait.
An individual's reaction to the movie will probably vary depending on personal background and taste. Those with an appreciation of Amalia or fado will probably find The Art of Amalia to be a worthwhile motion picture. Everyone else, I suspect, will be underwhelmed. I learned things from this documentary that I didn't know before, but, even with all of the clips of Amalia's performances, I found this to be more like a lecture than a dynamic experience.
© 2000 James Berardinelli