How was it receiving an invitation to star in Madame Satã?
Over the years, I began to realize I had done lots of plays and TV shows, but very little cinema. After doing Matou a Família I had a number of invitations, but for one reason or another, nothing happened. When casting director, Luiz Henrique Nogueira asked me to do a decadent cabaret singer, I was quite unhappy, the last thing I wanted to do was to sing. I go into shock when I sing and go totally out of tune. I took this invitation as a proof that I was unlucky in cinema. But he insisted, I went to talk to Karim, I got involved and, even though I was scared to death, I accepted the challenge.

So, it was a hard test?
No question about it. It was very hard, I was very scared, couldn't sleep. But I decided to go through with it. I had eight singing lessons with a wonderful coach and we rehearsed Nuit d'Algerl, which was sung by Josephine Baker. It was adjusted to my tone of voice; I would walk around town singing it, in a cold sweat. The musical director was also great, Sacha Amback.

And how did the recording go?
When I found myself in the studio with the headphones on, I just couldn't believe it. My coach was in front of me, helping me out. I concentrated hard and I think the outcome is really good. I called my friends to tell them, I thought it was great.

And how was it to act for cinema again?
I fell in love with it. It was just one week of shooting, and a great thrill. I don't think Vitória was inspired by anyone special. Karim and I invented facts about her--on how run down she was, that she had lived abroad, in Argentina or Uruguay; how she had a limited repertoire, one show only, and how she was João Francisco's (Lázaro Ramos) muse. It was really good. I really would like to do more work in films.

What's is the greatest challenge in playing Renatinho?
The physical aspect. Because of cocaine, the character had to be skinny, and I had to lose 10 lbs. His looks weren't that good--my hair had to be really oily--so I used a kind of wax. I would wash my hair twice a week only, and couldn't shave. Karim insisted on a "trashy" look. And in spite of wanting me to lose weight, he asked me to eat chocolate, to get pimples on my face. This concern with the visual aspect was quite strong, as Renatinho does not have a history; we know nothing about him.

Did you have any inspiration to play the role?
I went around the underworld of male solicitation, and realized that many had no problems doing it, they liked it. I think this is what went on with Renatinho. I walked around Lapa and Copacabana, and tried to transport myself to the 30s. We talked with an historian about that time, and I asked myself why Renatinho, a drifter with no family, should became fascinated with João Francisco, such a respected character in Lapa.

How was it, to debut in the cinema?
I plunged into the character. We from the "family" fully trusted Karim and the script he wrote. We fully relinquished ourselves on? the characters. Even the "sex scenes", that could be hard to do, were very carefully handled. First we rehearsed, then we shot. I think the outcome is beautiful.

Acting in a movie was part of your plans?
I was always crazy about doing a movie, but until now I had only a part in a short film by Angela Leal, about a letter Brazilian poet Drummond sent to another Brazilian poet, Manoel Bandeira. I was referred to be tested for Madame Satã, but I didn't know which character it was for, and much less that it was a transvestite. When I took the script home to study, I realized I had to wax my eyebrows, stretch my hair, dress as a woman. I was scared, but I decided to take it as a challenge and an opportunity for going in depth into a character, something you don't have in musicals.

To you, who is Taboo?
She is too contradictory. At the same time she is submissive to João Francisco, she is strong and determined, and knows what she wants: to be at home, cooking and sowing for a husband who one day would come, prince-like on his horse. As she states, at one point, her dream is to buy a Singer sewing machine to sew "the uniform of the kind of angel my husband is". Unlike a contemporary transvestite, she wants to be a homemaker; her dream is staying home and knitting.

How do you see the relationship between Taboo and João Francisco?
Unlike João Francisco, who is a star who longs for the stage, Taboo prefers the backstage. She is sort of the "cleaning mop" ofthe house, looks after Laurita's daughter and, in spite of being beaten by João Francisco, the bottom line is that they are accomplices. When the two of them con Álvaro, they have a lot of fun, even though Taboo gets less money than she expected. Her relationship with Satã is a mix of subservience and admiration.

What paths did you follow to play the Taboo we see on the screen?
When we talked about the character, Karim suggested I should observe transvestites. I did it; I watched movies, until I realized that, more than observing transvestites, I should observe women. And that's what I did. I thought that by doing so, I would avoid stereotyped behaviors, and reach the emotional load of humanism Karim wanted. I went searching for Taboo--I bought clothes in second-hand stores, bought enamel, scarves, a friend lent me a dress. I would put everything on and rehearse at home, being careful enough to close the door (laugh). I also though of Taboo as being a geisha.

How did the shooting go?
Rehearsals were great. Karim and casting director, Luiz Henrique gave extra care to the "family" as a whole, and to each one of us, individually. We became friends, not to mention the privilege of working side by side with Marcélia--and I told her this everyday. In addition, the baby girl, Laurita's daughter, is my goddaughter. When we went to the set, we had rehearsed everything, and yet there was room for improvisation. No question this film has the director's eye, but the actors also collaborated. We feel this is our film as well--and this is unique.

Who is Laurita?
She is a relaxed, happy, and perhaps a frivolous character. She is always smiling, and has a special role in João Francisco's history: it is she who encourages him to go on stage, to follow his artistic inclination. She helps him trust his dream.

How did you prepare yourself for this role?
I walked around Lapa a lot with the "boys" (Lázaro Ramos and Flávio Bauraqui), and observed prostitutes who seemed genuinely happy, as Laurita. I did some research about that time, I read about the city and the Lapa district in the 30s, I saw films about prostitutes, and I worked on my body. For many months I rehearsed the character in a very physical, corporal way--both by myself and with Lázaro and Flávio. Feeling the character from the physical aspect, her gestures, her moves, were instrumental for the role.

Have you ever played a prostitute before?
Never. In the theater, the closest role I played was a soothsayer in Hour of the Star, with the theater group CAL. Even though she was not exactly a prostitute, she was a madam, older and more mature. Laurita was younger and, in spite of having a daughter, she didn't seem close to her--it appears João and Taboo took better care of Firmina than she did. I loved playing Laurita, because I had already done a number of introspective, distressed characters, and she allowed me to show another side, with her open smile and glittering eyes.

Did you have a line of acting to play Laurita?
Karim's main concern was to show the intimacy of these three housemates. Other than that, he was quite open during rehearsals and allowed/favored improvisations. He is very easy-going, and asked me to work on the joy of the character, to be a migrant from the Northeast at ease in Lapa, at that time. I tried hard to create this lighthearted prostitute, whose mission, somehow, was to encourage João Francisco to become and artist and make his living on stage.

How did you get to Madame Satã?
Some three years ago, Sergio Machado (co-screenwriter for Behind the Sun and director of At The Edge of the Earth) told me auditions were being held for the role. I went to the auditions¼ and nothing happened. Two years later, I did a second audition, and I think at that time there was a problem with the video. A year later, I did another audition, and for some time I was considered for the role of Taboo. But Karim thought I was physically too strong for the role, and after some time, asked me to play João Francisco.

What was your reaction?
I was desperate. I told Karim it was crazy: I had never played a leading role, I did not practice capoeira, I didn't sing, I didn't dance, I didn't know how to handle a razor to attack someone, I had never kissed a man on the mouth. But I also told him that if he really wanted, he could rely on me, that I was going to do everything I could, devote my body and soul to the character.

What's your background in film acting?
Too little. I had played a few roles. The first was in Cinderela Baiana, a cool experience. With the pay, I was able to leave my job as a pathology technician and dedicate myself to the theater. I also did what I consider an extravagant cameo appearance in Monique Gardenberg's Jenipapo and in Sabor da Paixão. Prior to Madame Satã I played the role of Catrevagem in Aluízio Abranches' As Três Marias.

What did you know about Madame Satã and how did you prepare yourself for the role?
I knew very little, actually, almost nothing. I knew he was a carioca swindler who could stand up to six people at once. When I was asked to do the movie, I started to read about him, took capoeira lessons, saw films that somehow related to him. The idea about interpreting the character was not to follow strict lines. Karim made clear that the main idea was to set the feelings free and let the character come out viscerally. As Karim put it, I was to act with no safety net--I had to put myself fully into the character.

And did you do it?
Without a doubt. My main concern was to let the emotions flow, and acting coach Luiz Henrique helped me a lot during rehearsals. We had the script as guideline, and I could let my intuition find the means to convey what I wanted when we finally got to shoot. Karim knew exactly what he wanted, and expressed himself very clearly. His main concern was for the "family"--Laurita (Marcélia Cartaxo), Taboo (Flávio Bauraqui) and I--to be very close. He told us: "Look, I don't need you to love each other, but I want you to know one another, go out, talk". The empathy amongst us was immediate, and today I can say we are really a family.

João Francisco is a strong, contradictory character. What was the hardest aspect of his for you to work on?
His violent side. I am very quiet, and it was hard to find such violence in me. But there was also tenderness within his violence. Actually, I think every day of was a different challenge, because of the major shifts the character went through, and I had to go from the violence of capoeira to a sweet look. João Francisco was a masculine man, and I did not want to portray a stereotype. Not to mention I also had to sing, something I had never done before. That falsetto-type of voice came about during a recording at the studio.

How was it filming that final scene, the apotheosis of the character?
I was very encouraged by choreographer Daniela Visco to discover the inner side of the character, to seek in his body posture wheresomething crazy came from. More important than being prepared was to be willing to do it well, and this is what I was. We also had the chance of making lots of mistakes in rehearsals. It is good when you have the chance to make mistakes.

After this experience, who is João Francisco to you?
I think he represents man's ability to re-invent himself, to overcome obstacles, adversity, misery?. He was born 12 years after slavery was abolished in Brazil; if it is hard for a black man to assert himself today, imagine at the time. As part of a newly liberated generation of Blacks, he took hold of his fate, made himself respected as a human being, and managed to be happy. In that scenario, his only weapon was his body--with the body he defended himself, with the body he fought, he used his body to the utmost. I saw a documentary film on him, he was already quite old, and I was surprised because he did not communicate violence. He was organized, sweet--actually, he looked like an aunt of mine.

How did you feel when the film was shown at the Cannes Festival?
I realized I had not made a biography, nor a film about Madame Satã only, but on a variety of themes: family, desire, love and family relationships, and especially, about a very human character. Perhaps the best of all, even more than the 15-minute applause we had in Cannes, was enjoying the film as a member of the audience.

Why did you choose Madame Satã's theme/main character for your first feature film?
What interested me most in the character was, perhaps, the issue of exclusion. Throughout his life, João Francisco was an outcast for a number of reasons, he reacted to it in different ways--with rage, creativity, violence, and sweetness. João Francisco was a fighter, always asserting himself, never dispirited. His stance of resistance in a country where exclusion from society is the rule rather than an exception was what attracted me the most.

How did you discover João Francisco/Madame Satã?
For a long time, Madame Satã was just the name of a punk nightclub in Sao Paulo I used to go to in the ‘80s. In the early ‘90s, I found out, reading a small biography written by Brazilian journalist Rogério Durst, one of the books of the Encanto Radical collection, who Madame Satã was. I was fascinated and wanted to know more about him. I thought he would be a great character for a film--a mix of Josephine Baker, Jean Genet, and a "tropical" Robin Hood. In 1994, I received an award from the Hubert Bals Fund in The Netherlands to develop the script and I started thorough research. I searched the National Archives, legal sources; I interviewed people who knew him from Lapa and from the Ilha Grande prison. I also went to the city where he was born, in the backlands of Pernambuco and to the cemetery where it was said his mother was buried. The Brazilian popular music of the 20s and 30s was also an important source for understanding that period of time--it seems that Noel Rosa's song Mulato Bamba was composed for him. After lengthy research, I realized João Francisco was a mythomaniac, and the myth about him was built out of his inventing and re-inventing himself.

Madame Satã had a very troubled life--of his 74 years, 27 were spent in prison. Why did you choose to focus on his life in the 1930s?
Because at that time two rites of passage took place: he became known as a star, fulfilling his dream of being loved on stage, and soon after he committed a serious offense, and became a criminal. And these two facts are topped with the creation of Madame Satã, a name that summarizes the duality of the character: Madame--feminine, sophisticated, delicate, imported from France; and Satã--masculine, violent, destructive. I was not interested in telling how the myth was born, or to explain it. I wanted to portray the character prior to the creation of the myth; I wanted to share his intimacy.

Why the focus on the intimacy of the character?
Madame Satã is a character film, it's about an individual and could not be any different. Also, in filmmaking I am interested in focusing on the intimacy of the characters, which is the best way, in my opinion, to portray them. It did not cross João Francisco's mind he would become a myth. I believe he had very objective concerns in mind: to make a living, to provide for his family, to accomplish his dreams. At times, I believe I have the wrong title for the film--even though Madame Satã is quite accurate in showing the two sides of the character I see the film as a chronicle of everyday life. In a run-down row house in the Lapa district, people do laundry, iron, cook, look after the children. In spite of the seemingly normal life they lead, each one of them chooses a role to play, and no one plays just one single role: Laurita is a mother and a prostitute; João, a father and a tyrant; Taboo shifts between cowardice and courage. In a way, they subvert stereotypes and employ a strategy for survival: they are not "good" or "bad", nor one dimensional characters, but are rather dynamic and contradictory.

It is very common for one to question how true to the facts films are that portray real characters. In this sense, how does Madame Satã compare to the biography of João Francisco dos Santos?
For a long time, I was not sure what I should make: a documentary or a fiction film. I realized that, as the character re-invented himself all the time, to document the life was somewhat unfeasible. A documentary would be just the opposite of the character's experience, and fiction would be the best way to deal with his ability to "invent" himself, to portray his somewhat "chameleon" behavior. After following a number of contradictory clues, I realized that it would put me in a straightjacket if I attempted to be entirely factual about João Francisco. And I could not be genuine if I restrained myself, and gave up a freedom he always advocated. My intention was never to "tell the truth". Interpreting and translating the character seemed to me more interesting processes. I don't see much point in it, nor would I know how to tell the truth about such deceiving character. My intent was actually to be absolutely true to how I perceived that character.

Poor, black, homosexual. How did you address this character downtrodden by three stigmas?
By de-stigmatizing him. In his daily life, João Francisco annihilated these definitions, starting with the issue of homosexuality. This was never a problem for him, therefore it could not be shown as a conflict for the character in a narrative sense, it was just one bit of information about him. What interested me most was to deal with the reasons that lead him to challenge any attempt at isolating, segmenting, atomizing his identity. It would be a pity if the character were perceived through social segments, because it would be the opposite of his entire experience. The racial, sexual or social issues are never the focus of the film.

So, what is the focus of the film?
I would say it is to show how someone for whom the luxury of dreaming should have been an impossibility, accomplished his dream. Of how someone for whom being free should have been impossible was free all his life. Of someone who as a child was traded for an animal re-invented and selected a family. In real life, he had seven foster children. The core issue of the film is how such a person acted out his wishes, and made an example of freedom out of his life. An issue not actually dealt with but present in his life is "if you can do it, why can't I". In spite of people telling him he could not do this or that, of people belittling him he would transport himself to a different dimension he created. The central issue of the film is also portraying a character that lived and understood his own time in such a fantastic way. These are the important and moving aspects of the film, rather than labeling the character one thing or another.

A character such as Madame Satã could easily be seen through a folkloric or stereotyped perspective. What precautions did you take to prevent this risk?
A feature of the character I have always liked is that he created "short-circuits" in the definitions: when they called him black, he showed up gay; when they called him gay, he showed up poor; he was always something else. It was by constantly re-inventing himself that he could transgress and resist. It is not my intention to delve into sociology, but I would say he epitomizes Brazil, in the way that he takes pleasure out of everyday life, in spite of everyone and everything. There is a fascinating and cruel aspect to the Brazilian, in that his constant quest for pleasure may imply submission to the established rules, an "anything goes" attitude, (even disrespecting himself) for five minutes of pleasure. In this sense, he is not typical, because he always demanded respect. In addition to exercising his freedom, finding pleasure, and accomplishing his dreams, and in spite of all hurdles, he always asserted himself as a human being. It is a testimony of resistance. For him, fighting for his self-affirmation was never silent. He never accepted being degraded because he was this or that.

What risks did you want to avoid in building this character, a symbol of Rio de Janeiro's bohemian life and swindlers?
First, I did not want to build a folkloric, stereotyped character. When you do that, you set a distance, you make it look ordinary, banal, and somehow you place yourself on a safe ground. I wasn't interested in this, I wanted to make a movie in which I shadowed the character, shared his intimacy, his rage, and his sweetness. I am not so much interested in super-men. I also did not want a biographical movie, because in general, in film, "biographies" are linear, which this character's experience was not; thus my decision to do a cutout of the life of the character and design it vertically. The biographical model would not be fair (to the character), and it would cheapen such an exuberant and diverse experience.

Even avoiding definitions, today he would be seen as a social outcast--and for a number of reasons. Do you think the social scenario that made João Francisco an outcast still exists today?
Yes, no question about it. Unfortunately, many of the problems of the 30s still exist, and one way of speaking about the present time is to recall history. During my research, I found a 1928 picture of a black woman with her children seated on the curb of a downtown street. This picture could well have been taken today. Much had changed from that time to the present day, but much has not changed, and social exclusion as a barrier to affirmation as an individual, as a community, and as a cultural presence is one of them. Brazilian society lacks permeability, and even though there appears to be some integration among the different sectors, the social abyss seems to keep on broadening. I am not pessimistic, just the opposite. I think this is an optimistic, redeeming film. After all, João Francisco never considered himself a victim.

It is curious that a film about Madame Satã was made by a native of the State of Ceará, who never lived in Rio.
To try to understand a so-called Brazilian culture, I had to understand the carioca (Rio de Janeiro) culture. I was born in Ceará; my mother was from the region, and my father from Algiers. I started to come down to Rio for short stays from the age of 12. I was always intrigued by the city. I wanted to understand why the carioca culture was considered the dominant culture, even its accent. I began to realize that, in Rio, there was a deep syncretism that is very typical of Brazil and also of Latin America. Rio de Janeiro of the 30s was a harbor city, where foreigners and migrants from different parts of the country and the world lived, and also a significant number of black people. In this changing culture, it was urgent that an original voice, in constant transformation, be established. In this sense, the experience of Madame Satã is quite significant: he set up a number of characters for himself--the Negress of the Bulacoché; Jamacy, queen of the forest; Saint Rita of the Coconut Tree, Shark, Dangerous Pussycat--and even added Cecil B. de Mille, Candomblé (a religion of African origin), Josephine Baker, and Chinese mythology. In making this emblematic collage of Brazilian and Latin American culture, he built an original character; "carnivalised", but with a unique voice.

How did you prepare the film?
I wrote the first draft of the script without having ever been in Lapa. When I got to Rio, I felt I was at the same time the most suited and the least suited person to do this film. I drew a map of where he lived, I looked for the houses, and some were still there. All of this was fresh to me. It took six months to a year to select the cast, and preparing the film took three months of intense rehearsals. But these were not text rehearsals; I did not want to impose a method, but rather to convey João Francisco, Laurita and Taboo's intimacy on the screen. I suggested they go to the beach, go out, talk, go to know each other, because such intimacy becomes imprinted, impregnated on the screen. As this was my first feature film, I thought I would have control over everything. I designed a detailed storyboard and something funny happened: on the first day of shooting, I could not find it, and we shot anyway. On the second day, I followed the storyboard, and those shots were not used in the film. From the third day on, I didn't use the storyboard any more. I enjoyed not being in control all the time.

Comment on the art direction and photography, basically done with a handheld camera.
The film was almost entirely shot on location. Locations have smells, history, life, and I wanted to convey this fetid, musty aspect, which is hard to get in a studio. Our work was very much integrated with Marcos Pedroso's production design and Walter Carvalho's photographic direction. I realized that I would have to translate such a character that never relinquished his freedom by trying to translate this freedom into a way of filming. It was a matter of coherence. I thought of doing a 16mm film, but my production contract did not allow it. Then, we shot in 35mm, but tried to keep the lightness of 16mm. We worked on the negatives, and got a texture close to that of 16 mm. This allowed a high contrast image, with no half shades, just like the character.

And since our main goal was to convey intimacy, we could not shoot the classic way. Many times, the camera would shoot from what the actors had to offer. It was important for me to have a 360º shooting angle. Such freedom was also employed in the editing, being guided by emotion.

How did you select Lázaro Ramos--in his first feature film--for the role of João Francisco dos Santos?
It was an all-or-nothing issue. After all, the character is in 99% of the scenes. In a way, the film is the character. Lázaro was one of the first actors I auditioned, and he was selected for a number of reasons. I wanted a fully intuitive actor--I even flirted with the idea of not employing an actor. At the same time, I wanted someone theatrical. I wanted someone who could fulfill these two opposing features. Lázaro is very talented and very intuitive, and has a visceral, physical quality that is crucial for the character. At the same time he offered a naturalistic register, he could also invent the characters Madame Satã invented, with a strong cinematographic imprint. I think this was the first point of reference for selecting Lázaro. In addition, he made himself fully available and agreed to join the adventure, running all the risks. There was no formula--sometimes he is interpreting, sometimes he is not. We were creating and finding out together.

A strong aspect of the film is João Francisco's body.
His body is his strength; objectively, it is his sole possession. That's why everything he creates is from his body, from his voice, how he dresses, how he moves--it is from how he exhibits and hides his body. After all, what was left of the black culture after the diaspora? The body, used in music, dance, clothing, sexual pleasure. For a long time, due to social exclusion, cultural manifestations of black people could be only through the body or, eventually, the cuisine. This is why the most objective form of resistance of the character is through his body. To me, the landscape of this film is this body, and this is why Walter Carvalho and I decided to work on the negative in a certain fashion, so that the texture of the skin, the presence of the body could fully define the character.

How about selecting Marcélia Cartaxo, Flávio Bauraqui?
I love Hour of the Star by Suzana Amaral and always dreamed of working with Marcélia. I wrote the role for her, yet I tested many actresses just to check my intuition. For me, selecting the cast was an adventure. I wanted to represent the mixture of races and accents present in Rio at that time. Each actor represented, not just the real characters they played, but the very distinct regions and cultures of Brazil. It was important for me to have a highly intuitive actress like Marcélia. Renata Sorrah made a film with Julio Bressane 30 years ago and possessed a cinema glitter, a very experienced actor as Emiliano Queiróz, who knew that milieu through Plínio Marcos' plays, two first-timers--Flávio Bauraqui, as Taboo, and Felippe Marques as Renatinho. Lázaro is from Bahia, Marcélia from Paraíba, Flávio is a gaucho (from the State of Rio Grande do Sul), Fellippe Marques is a native carioca, Emiliano Queiroz, from Ceará, Ricardo Blat, from São Paulo. It is very hard to make a movie about such a solar character and at the same time allow supporting roles to shed light on the main character and yet have their own presence.

The film ends with a celebration of the character. Can you comment on that?
The end is an almost exact transcription of how he won the 1942 costume contest of the Deer Hunters Carnival Group, after spending 10 years in prison. João Francisco fabricated much of his myth, but the story has been enlarged upon by others. It is certain he killed a man, but it is questionable whether he killed composer Geraldo Pereira, who got three death certificates. For indecency, theft, soliciting for prostitution, prostitution, and other offenses, he was in prison for 27 years. As a director, I am not interested in judging the characters, but rather in documenting them. It would be hypocritical if I said there is not a moral lesson in the film. It is not about the character, but about an experience. For me, the main feature of the character is that he never felt himself to be a victim. He was always re-inventing himself, like the phoenix; and Lázaro manages to come out of the ashes victoriously--a testimony of love and life. The film is a celebration of this living resistance.