Arabian Nights: Volume 2, The Desolate One

Arabian Nights: Volume 2, The Desolate One

The second part of Miguel Gomes’ “Arabian Nights” has been titled “The Desolate One,” and it is indeed more desolate than the first half. These stories are sadder and wilder than the ones in “The Restless One.” They’re like fables less angry and curious than Anansi the Spider or Rainbow Crow still instructive, but more bewildered, sad.

(Here again, you could argue about this division into two halves; one story at least bleeds over from the first part to the second.) A lot of what defined “The Restless One” was dreamy abstraction; much of this film looks closer to naturalism that’s loose and lyrical even by Gomes’ standards. There are phantoms, ghosts, projections, apparitions; there are also odd mixings of present and past. The Portuguese title of “Arabian Nights” is translated as: “A Thousand and One Nights Volume 2 – The Desolated One”; but that term suggests a kind of wasteland or something apocalyptic. That’s not quite right either.

In the first story Scheherazade tells us after reappearing onscreen she left at the end of “The Restless One,” remember we meet a man named Simão ‘Without Bowels,’ played by Chico Chapas (which I’m guessing means “Chubby”). He’s a burly fugitive who killed his wife, his daughter, and two other women before going on the run; he hides out in farmhouses scattered around a lovely hill town’s hinterland.

Everyone knows where he is; they also know he likes to steal clothes off their scarecrows when they go into town to buy groceries or whatever else it is country folk do in these parts. In fact, for reasons that may be ironic or just perverse but definitely have nothing to do with logic as such, Simão is actually considered something of a hero in these parts so says Scheherazade, although we don’t see much evidence of this.

The implication seems to be that by staying away from the authorities, he’s become a kind of popular man; and if that means killing your whole family, well then that’s just one of those tragic trade-offs you have to make sometimes. But there’s another wrinkle here, as suggested by the little story (or episode) that comes after it — the one where a nature scoutmaster falls to his death while trying to teach his boys how to walk across a rope bridge.

Simão hides out in this particular town because they’re used to him; they’ve seen enough wanted criminals pass through over the years not to get too worked up about it. (Also: Gomes informs us at one point that all Portuguese towns are like this.) It would upset the balance or harmony or whatever you want to call it if they suddenly decided they had an obligation to turn him in; moreover, their police force isn’t equipped for any real manhunt anyway what few officers they might have on hand probably don’t know how to fire their weapons, etc. Besides which: Take away even one pillar of society (and Scheherazade herself refers several times in her narration to Simão as “bastard” and “son of a bitch”), and everything would collapse.

The internal mechanisms of these towns need to keep spinning because otherwise nobody will care whether they live or die; certainly not the government anyway. When armed guards finally show up from Lisbon with their machine guns and drones looking for Simão who has now been spotted by more than half a dozen witnesses stealing clothes off scarecrows just outside town it feels less like justice being meted out than some kind of cosmic tragedy descending upon us from another plane entirely. These guys don’t belong here; they don’t care what they destroy in the process.

The second story starts with a few of the most beautiful images in all “Arabian Nights.” A hand-made diorama of the earth with three moons hanging above it transitions into a purple tile counter, on which sit two glasses of wine. Then we see the penis of a man who just deflowered his bride (Luísa Cruz). She walks around her house under the violet light from those three moons to phone her mother and give her the good news about what happened on her wedding night. The bride’s mother (Joana de Verona) is this story, called “The Tears of the Judge.”

That would be because she is the judge, although she’s currently across town hearing a case about property theft. Some lady sold all her landlord’s furniture so she could pay off some debt that was run up by her idiot son. Maybe he had it coming because one witness tells the judge that this guy calls emergency services six times a day just to watch ambulances go by his house. When questioned, yes, the landlord admits he does this but only because a genie ordered him to;the genie is present in court as well.The genie was following orders from an evil man who released him from his lamp.

Each time another person testifies at trial for stealing stuff and there will be many more witnesses another person higher up gets implicated in having planned or authorized or somehow been involved in/responsible for said crime. There really isn’t much more to say here;Gomes does such an amazing job directing “The Tears of the Judge” that its inevitability becomes irrelevant.

As soon as people start popping out left right center claiming they were there when X went down but couldn’t testify until now because Y threatened them unless Z happened first while W was too busy doing V etc. ad infinitum ad absurdum you realize where things are headed but instead of getting tired after like five minutes Gomes just keeps going with the most ridiculous witnesses imaginable (like a talking cow or dozen courtesans) and never lets that joke run out of steam.

The last story in “The Desolate One” concerns an adorable dog named Dixie who passes from owner to owner as each takes their turn telling some little story about how the economic crisis, not to mention healthcare and general malaise, has affected the inhabitants of their dumpy apartment building. Gomes has fun with form here but that’s pretty much it for fun because every new human being Dixie encounters is sadder than the last one.

We bounce back and forth between people in different apartments, which gives us a funny vibrant portrait of your average ad hoc community in between long stints next door with whoever happened to be hosting each successive round before /after them. Having a dog is both a blessing and a curse for these folks because dogs remind you how fast time flies by while also bringing out your inner caretaker instinct so there’s no better candidate than someone who could use some companionship; Dixie provides temporary relief from an ongoing ailment but honey she got problems too.

It’s not easy to shake off the gloom that hangs over this chapter, but Gomes tempers it somewhat with his and our love for his characters’ bad habits and ingrained sadness. By keeping a dreamlike unease even as he shifts in tone and setting, Gomes ties his three chapters together through the people’s hopelessness; seeking heroes, powerless against corruption, surrounded by ghosts. They feel like something from myth, tales we drop into to learn a lesson that should have sunk in hundreds of years ago but never does.

The sadness that has overtaken these unrelated characters is like the grey skies hanging over Portuguese streets. “The Desolate One” holds together best of the three parts of “Arabian Nights,” and feels most coherent, most touching, maybe most true to what living in Portugal during the financial crisis must feel like. He invites us into his smoky, shabby-still-hopelessly-gorgeous home where he waits for the power to go out, for water to run black, for landlord to hammer eviction notice on door. If we feel at home here it’s because when greedy tyrants take power everyone is equally homeless. It’s up to us to recognize that fact.

The gloominess of this chapter is hard to shake off though Gomes’ love for their characters’ bad habits and inherent sadness helps with this a little bit too. Just as each part has its own unique qualities so they are connected through one common thread which is peoples despair; they look up to heroes who are corrupt or do nothing about their problems then they find themselves surrounded by ghosts feeling alone hopeless helpless all these things again make them seem like coming from some myths which are visited occasionally by different people trying out new ways learning old lessons whose time should have come long time ago already but usually fails again always thus resulting into various forms of unhappiness experienced among individuals brought about by life itself portrayed in various stories told over years after another only showing different characters represented as individuals living under same sky characterized by one emotion being sadness depicted through many writers or artists works reflecting their experiences within certain time frame.

So much so indeed that even though these persons may not know nor recognize each other yet still there exists between them invisible bonds tying together like sky connects earth every human being regardless of where he/she comes from what language speaks whom knows well does not matter at all. The sadness which has fallen upon these people is quite similar to those grey skies that loom above the streets in Portugal.

“The Desolate One” is the most complete chapter among three parts of Arabian Nights and it touches more than any other part, because it shows how life can be during this financial crisis period in Portugal according to my opinion. He welcomes us into his dusty dirty but beautiful house where everything seems hopeless; power will go off any minute now water turns black soon followed by a knock on the door with an eviction notice from landlord then if viewers feel at home here’s when greedy tyrants seize control no body becomes homeless they have all become rich we just need acknowledge such situation.

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