“It’s here that you discover stories that reflect people’s life, culture, and struggles—presented vividly on the big screen. After attending IndieLisboa, an international film festival, and DocLisboa, known for showcasing both local and international documentaries, I felt it was time to travel further and delve deeper.”
“Caminhos do Cinema Português,” translated as “Paths of Portuguese Cinema,” sets its focus from the outset. Allow me to take you on a journey into the cultural life of one of Portugal’s northeastern city – Coimbra, through his renowned film festival.
As a film critic and journalist from Georgia, recently relocated to Lisbon, exploring Portuguese cinema was essential to my understanding of the country. While names like Manoel de Oliveira, Pedro Costa, and Miguel Gomes are familiar from international festivals, gaining a deeper appreciation requires immersing oneself in local film festivals. These events, with their national film sections and opportunities to engage with the local film community, are where the essence of a country’s culture, concerns, and identity come to life.
During my visits to festivals, I make it a priority to watch the national sections. It’s here that you discover stories that reflect a people’s life, culture, and struggles—presented vividly on the big screen. After attending IndieLisboa, an international film festival, and DocLisboa, known for showcasing both local and international documentaries, I felt it was time to travel further and delve deeper. November brought me to Coimbra, home to film festival “Caminhos do Cinema Português”.
Coimbra in November becomes a gathering place for film professionals. For eight days, the festival—celebrating its 30th edition—offered audiences a program heavily oriented toward national films, alongside masterclasses and exhibitions dedicated to film and culture. “It’s a collective effort of more than 600 people who, since 1988, have tirelessly defended and promoted Portuguese cinema,” the organizers declared.
Despite its small team, Caminhos do Cinema Português fosters a unique connection by bringing together the film community for dialogue, discussion, and reflection. For the second time FIPRESCI participated as a jury. This allowed us critics to focus on the “Caminhos” (Path) section, which featured a rich selection of Portuguese-made feature films and documentaries—a perfect fit for me.
Coimbra is not a densely populated city (in 2021, it had a population of just 140,796), but it is renowned for its historic university, the oldest in Portugal, and is affectionately called “A cidade dos estudantes” (the city of students). Given its reputation as a hub of education and culture, I found it surprising to see low attendance at the festival’s screenings, held in the spacious Academic Theatre of Gil Vicente, where the main section took place.
One possible explanation could be the content itself—national films may not resonate widely with audiences. Another might be the growing dominance of streaming platforms, which offer the convenience of watching films anywhere, anytime. While it’s undeniably comfortable to enjoy movies from your sofa, this trend creates a widening gap between audiences and the cinematic experience. Watching a film on the big screen, surrounded by others, is more than just viewing—it’s a ritual, a shared moment where you connect with others, exchanging emotions and thoughts in a collective experience. It’s like entering an unknown cave where you have no idea what awaits, except for one certainty: you’ll be immersed in it. That experience, that magic, is something irreplaceable. Don’t you agree?
For its 30th edition, the festival began with a tribute to Luis Miguel Cintra, a towering figure in Portuguese theater and cinema. A special award was presented in his honor, and the festival dedicated a section of its program to celebrating his work.
The opening film was Miguel Gomes’ Grand Tour, which won this year’s Cannes Film Festival Best Director Prize and serves as Portugal’s Oscar submission. This black-and-white romantic and melancholic odyssey tells the story of a couple through dual perspectives—male and female. In the first part, we follow Edward Abbot, an Englishman who is meant to marry his fiancée after seven years apart but instead embarks on an escapist journey across Asia to avoid her. The second part shifts to Molly Singleton, his fiancée, whose resilient smile and determined character lead her to pursue the man of her dreams.
Gomes masterfully blends music and imagery to create a fairy-tale-like experience, set in 1918. Yet, it’s more than just a geographical or temporal journey—it’s a timeless, universal narrative. Some critics have compared the film’s mix of artifice and reality to the expressionism of silent cinema, but for Gomes, it’s ultimately a film about faith.
“I would say it’s a film about faith,” Gomes explained in an interview with Notebook Magazine. “There’s this obsessed woman who has too much faith in her fiancé. And there’s this very scared man who has no faith in her. And then there’s the viewer, who has to have faith to enter this artificial world and take the trip with them. It’s wonderful to give viewers the freedom to decide if they want to believe in a film, even if it’s a little absurd.”
Faith, however, is a theme largely absent from the long features and documentaries presented in the “Path” section. Of the 16 films showcased, more than half explored the history and aftermath of Portuguese colonialism, telling untold stories from the other side.
For You, Portugal, I Swear! (Por Ti, Portugal, Eu Juro!), directed by Sofia da Palma Rodrigues and Diogo Cardoso, tells the powerful story of African soldiers who fought alongside the Portuguese Armed Forces during the Colonial War (1961–1974). These soldiers risked their lives for a homeland they believed was their own. Yet, after the Carnation Revolution, they were abandoned—ignored and forgotten by history. Now, they remain shadows of a neglected past, still seeking justice and recognition. Many of them passed away still waiting for acknowledgment of their sacrifices, leaving their stories as a haunting reminder of historical injustice.
The film is built primarily on interviews with these former soldiers, whose words carry the weight of their pain and betrayal. By centering their voices, the filmmakers expose a history often overlooked, asking difficult questions about loyalty, identity, and the failure of a nation to honor its promises. The archival footage and testimonies create a narrative that feels both urgent and deeply moving, forcing viewers to confront the uncomfortable truths of Portugal’s colonial legacy.
Tales of Oblivion (Contos do Esquecimento), directed by Dulce Fernandes, uses meditative rhythms and long takes to unearth buried histories. Inspired by archaeological findings in Lagos, Southern Portugal, the film delves into the lives of enslaved African people—a past unearthed but often ignored. Through reflective storytelling, Fernandes exposes the forgotten stories of those whose legacies were buried by time. This is another compelling documentary that invites the audience to reflect on history’s overlooked narratives.
In contrast, Banzo (Banzo) by Margarida Cardoso is a fiction film that takes us back to the early 20th century. The term “banzo” was used to describe the overwhelming nostalgia and despair felt by enslaved African people, which often led them to end their own lives. Cardoso’s film attempts to reveal the deep scars left by systemic oppression, offering a poignant narrative of resilience and pain.
We also see these themes explored in At the Table of the Popular Unity (Á Mesa da Unidade Popular ), another documentary by Isabel Noronha and Camilo de Sousa. This film recalls the post-independence period of Mozambique, reflecting on the struggles and complexities of a nation rebuilding itself after colonial rule.
Sempre (Sempre) by Luciana Fina brings to life the images of the 1974 Carnation Revolution in Portugal, showcasing the country’s journey from fascism to liberation and the process of building a new nation. The film masterfully intertwines the past and present, blending archival footage—radio broadcasts from the 1970s, photographs of student protests in Coimbra, and fictional excerpts like António Campos’ A Invenção do Amor (1965) and Ana Hatherley’s Revolução (1975)—with voices recorded during contemporary demonstrations. The transitions are so seamless and relevant that, without the timestamps, it would be difficult to distinguish past from present. Colonization, freedom, and the struggle to shape a better future remain timeless themes. With its strong storytelling, Fina creates a vivid and thought-provoking film that revisits the same questions 50 years later. This seamless weaving of history and modernity earned Sempre the festival’s top honor, the Grand Prize.
Collectively, the films at the festival shed light on overlooked histories, emphasizing themes of memory, justice, and identity—particularly for those left behind or erased from dominant narratives.
It is no coincidence that many of these films urge us to remember. Isn’t cinema, after all, a reflection of reality? During this year’s April 25th celebrations marking the end of fascism in Portugal, Lisbon’s Avenida da Liberdade was more crowded than ever. “This is very important to us,” one Portuguese film critic told me as we stood among the crowd proclaiming loudly: “fascismo nunca mais” (fascism never again). “We must not forget that evil existed before and can return.”
In a time of political turbulence, with the rise of the far-right becoming the third-largest political force in parliament and pushing harsh policies against minorities while emphasizing nationalism, it feels more critical than ever to revisit history. These films serve as reminders to reflect and reconsider: are we doing enough to ensure history’s lessons are not forgotten?
Salome Kikaleishvili
Edited by Rita Di Santo
© FIPRESCI 2024