Admirable Alice's House a true slice of life

Admirable Alice's House a true slice of life

by Nick Ardizzone - SGN Staff Writer ALICE'S HOUSE OPENING FEBRUARY 22 ONE WEEK RUN ONLY Very rarely do films come loaded with as much truth - beautiful and ugly - as the Brazilian Alice's House, which plays in Seattle for a brief one-week engagement. Alice (Carla Ribas) lives with her husband, their three sons, and her elderly mother in a small Brazilian apartment. Her sleazy husband, Lindomar, spends his days driving a taxi, cheating compulsively, and looking like Harvey Keitel. Their sons - Junior, Edhino, and Lucas - lie sprawled on the couch, a tangle of limbs and bony elbows, having fits of sibling rivalry. Grandma Jacira works ceaselessly at the laundry and cooking, her only friend the voice on the radio. Alice gives manicures and pedicures at a salon in town, and as she kneels at the feet of her middle-class customers, she tells white lies to make her life seem more glamorous. When a stranger brushes up against Alice on the bus, the story she tells changes him into a handsome man begging her for a date. She bemoans having such an attentive husband and wishes he would stop making vigorous love to her so she could get some sleep. Living out these fantasies during the day makes coming back to her life at night more and more difficult to bear, so when a man from her past comes into her life and offers an escape, she takes it. Up until Alice's tryst, Alice's House meanders around the apartment, showing the shabby domesticity the characters dwell in. The family is emotionally distant. Save for Alice's caring for her mother - balanced by Lindomar's scheming to have her put in a nursing home - the only tenderness is the brotherly love Lucas shows for Junior, possibly to salvage his potential and save him from ending up like the thieving Edhino or like Lucas himself, who has been turning tricks on the side. When Alice's story gets moving, the tension builds toward the inevitable conclusion: Alice isn't the only person to prop herself up with half-truths, and the grass isn't always greener. But there's a heavy substance to Alice's actions that keep her little vanities and conceits from being petty. Her desire for something better is real and vital; it's impossible to fault her for wanting not only to survive, but to live. Ribas delivers a flawless performance, her goofy, flirtatious smile as absorbing as her grief. Berta Zemel plays put-upon Jacira with patience and vulnerability. The family is wholly believable, and everything is shown with a grounded grace by director Chico Teixiera. Alice's House is Teixiera's first drama, but this isn't a fumbling freshman effort. Teixiera's years of experience filming documentaries gives him an excellent feel for reality. Most scenes are filmed in long, unbroken shots. There are no camera tricks, no helicopter or crane shots, no bullet-time, no CGI. All the sound is diegetic, the background noise of the city a constant character which intrudes into the most intimate scenes. Teixiera creates his world like an artist using a palette of realism. When the film ends abruptly with a member of Alice's family in peril, audiences might not be completely satisfied, but they have to accept the consequences. Saying "that's life" might be seen as letting Alice's House off the narrative hook too easily, but I believe a production done with this much authenticity has earned the right. There are no happy endings - there are hardly endings at all. Is it about the struggles of balancing family with individuality? The futility of trying to break from routine? A study of aching betrayal and guilt? Asking what Alice's House is "about" is silly; it is a piece of life sandwiched between credits, the meaning as subjective as that entails.