Director: Gabriel Mascaro
Stars: Denise Weinberg, Miriam Socarrás, Rodrigo Santoro
Taking place in an alternate or near-future version of Brazil in which the elderly are shipped off to a mandatory retirement resort for the sake of national productivity (lest they steal too much time from able bodied workers), Gabriel Mascaro’s breezy The Blue Trail takes on agist and gendered assumptions of guile and usefulness among his nation’s senior citizens. The propaganda-favouring government are felt in the peripheries of his tale – chirping slogans from small aircraft that drag their hypocritical catchphrase “The future is for everyone” behind them – endemic of a universal tide of political gasbagging that we can all appreciate. Mascaro instead focuses his attention on one of the effected; 77 year old Tereza (Denise Weinberg) who is shocked to discover that the national age has been reduced from 80 to 75, and while she’s lauded for her contributions to the state, she finds herself suddenly and frustratingly curtailed as her guardianship and agency is handed over to her daughter, Joana (Clarissa Pinheiro).
Refusing to accept her encroaching fate, Tereza comes late to the idea of a bucket list, but decides she needs to experience flying before she’s unable to. When it becomes evidence she’ll need her daughter’s consent, Tereza absconds in search of less scrutable services, which is how she ends up on an episodic riverboat journey, initially with Rodrigo Santoro’s aloof skipper Cadu and later in the company of mercenary ‘nun’ Roberta (Miriam Socarrás).
Getting aboard an aircraft soon strays from the point of both Tereza’s expedition and Mascaro’s film, as the journey itself prompts Tereza to take on other experiences new to her, be it gambling, hallucinogens or (implied) queerness. Her civil disobedience is not just an act of rebellion but a road to personal emancipation. While we never get the impression that she’s been a miserable person, Mascaro’s little set of adventures detail an unabashedly romantic portrait of late blooming, of coming into one’s own. The Blue Trail is peppered with moments of graceful appreciation. Gabriel sees, for instance, the simple beauty of an old woman’s white hair drying in the sun. While many of the younger people who encounter Tereza underestimate her gumption to their own loss or misfortune.
The Blue Trail is as amiable as cinema gets, with a devilish and satirical edge to it that is largely telegraphed by the pomp and gurgle of Memo Guerra’s score (which put this viewer in mind of the backings that surround Colombian musician Lucrecia Dalt). Social critique feathers in lightly. In the latter half of the picture, when Tereza teams up with Roberta, we discover that the elderly rich can buy their freedom, of course, furthering notions of corruption and privilege within the country’s hierarchical structures. But Roberta is more ensorcelled by Tereza’s spirit than anyone, and the bond that grows between the two women is the beating, even provocatively lustful heart of the picture. Both Socarrás and Weinberg realise this simpatico beautifully. These old women glow.
There’s little ‘sci-fi’ about this speculative tale, though Star Trek-looking eBibles are spottable, yet further fanciful additions present themselves from the natural world. A rare species of snail is revealed to have mind-expanding properties to it’s secretions, while an off-shore casino propagates the creative sport of tropical fish fighting. These creations add to the overall quixotic playfulness of Mascaro’s enterprise; light drifts away from the otherwise naturalistic familiarity of the handsome 4×3 shoot. At 85 minutes it is decidedly featherweight, and there’s a slight sense that, having set up a juicy set of circumstances for further enquiry, The Blue Trail tends to drift away from more barbed commentary for the sake of keeping things cosy. But that at least means it isn’t particularly heavy-handed. When the final shot comes, it feels both right and a little too soon. That cut-to-black coming just as the audience realises that’s all we’re getting. The story is wrapped up, so there’s no real need for further. If anything, Weinberg’s shining company has been too much of a pleasure and we’re disappointed to leave it.
The Lost Highway Hotel 