kaos at BFI Flare: London LGBT Film Festival

 kaos at 
 BFI Flare: London LGBT Film Festival 


There hasn't been a lot to get excited about at this year's London LGBT Film Festival, where I've found myself mired in impenetrable shorts, near misses, and sheer masochism. Could Tattoo be this year's saving grace?

"This is a dramatic recreation of a group of larger-than-life characters who performed at an outrageous cabaret throughout the late 1970s period of the dictatorship in Brazil. The central character of Clécio is the leader; he represents a boldly anarchic whirlwind of energy, both artistic and sexual. When his lover brings home his brother-in-law Fininha, an 18-year-old policeman, Clécio falls in love and things begin to get out of control. How sexual provocation, nudity, drugs, glitter and hard-hitting satire managed to survive as an outrageous beacon of sanity in Brazil’s dark days is a near miracle. You won’t forget the asshole song or the loves and upsets of these indefatigable troupers in the sexual revolution, cocking a snook at the authorities with delirious polysexual abandon."

I saw Tattoo on the same night as the interminable Hawaii, which left me feeling so mentally drained I wanted to go home. But I was with a friend, so I couldn't, and so we dived back into the BFI for a trip back to 1970s Brazil. And what a trip.

Hilton Lacerda's film is a nutty, sexy, dangerous mess, full of unhinged performances by the picture's avant-garde cabaret act, the Star-Spangled Floor. "You won't forget the asshole song," BFI Flare say, and they're right. You really, really won't. Irandhir Santos is brilliant as the troupe's leader, and Jesuita Barbosa is just delicious as conflicted soldier boy Finhina.

Tattoo is a triumph - encore, please.

Next: Last Summer

More from kaos at BFI Flare.


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