The film “A Volta Para Casa”, based
on a story by Guilherme Rodio, presents a touching and deeply emotional
narrative following the journey of Plínio, an elderly retiree living in a
nursing home in São Paulo. Carpentry is his form of therapy, and in the small
workshop at the home, he keeps his mind active by creating wooden pieces. These
handmade works are far more than simple activities; they represent Plínio’s
attempt to connect with his memories and preserve his autonomy amid the
inevitable process of aging.
The arrival of Anselmo, the nursing
home’s new gardener, marks the beginning of a relationship that at first seems
casual but quickly reveals unexpected emotional depth. The film gains momentum
when Plínio, seeing Anselmo pruning the plants in a way he considers improper,
criticizes his work. This initial clash, subtle and seemingly trivial, hides
deeper layers: while Anselmo, young and energetic, goes about his routine with
little attachment, Plínio clings to details as a way of maintaining some control
over his life. This scene is not just a generational clash; it anticipates one
of the film’s main themes: the search for dignity in old age and the desire to
remain relevant in a world that seems to forget him.
As the film progresses, the bond
between Plínio and Anselmo deepens, particularly during the Easter celebration
at the home. Plínio anxiously awaits his family’s visit, convinced they will
arrive at any moment. In contrast, another resident, lost in dementia, speaks
of her mother and cousins who clearly never come. Plínio, still lucid, insists
that his children will arrive, creating a painful tension. He distinguishes
himself from the other woman, but as the party continues and his relatives do
not appear, the line between delusion and vain hope begins to blur. This moment
is crucial for the audience to understand Plínio’s emotional fragility and the
deep sense of abandonment he faces.
In an act of kindness, Anselmo
offers to take Plínio to his old neighborhood. The journey is filled with
dialogue that highlights the gap between Plínio’s past and the present,
revealing the disconnection many elderly people feel toward the modern world.
Plínio nostalgically recalls swimming in the Tietê River, now polluted and
unrecognizable, while Anselmo tries to explain apps and GPS, technologies that
seem too distant for the old man to fully grasp. This contrast between past and
present symbolizes not only the transformation of Plínio’s surroundings but
also his sense of displacement in a world that has changed drastically.
Upon arriving at the site of his
former home, Plínio is overcome with desolation upon realizing his house has
been replaced by a modern building. The scene captures, devastatingly, the
sense of loss permeating Plínio’s life – he has lost not just a physical space
but a significant part of his identity, memories, and connections that shaped
who he is. Patiently, Anselmo remains by his side, allowing Plínio to process
this new reality. Later, the gardener invites him to his home, where they share
a simple but symbolically rich meal.
The film’s emotional climax occurs
when, after lunch, Plínio gifts Anselmo a small wooden house he carved himself.
Upon receiving the gift, Anselmo places it on a shelf already filled with
identical houses. This moment reveals an impactful truth: Plínio’s journey is
not unique, but part of a cycle he has undergone multiple times, without memory
of previous experiences. Anselmo’s collection of houses symbolizes the
repetition of this ritual of forgetting and reconnection, indicating that,
despite his apparent lucidity, Plínio is trapped in a cycle of fragmented
memories.
Lima Duarte’s performance as Plínio
is a masterclass in sensitivity. He navigates moments of lucidity and pain with
remarkable subtlety, portraying the silent suffering of someone struggling to
maintain dignity amid feelings of abandonment. Guilherme Rodio, as Anselmo,
brings a calm and comforting presence, serving as a necessary counterpoint to
Plínio’s emotional turbulence. His character is the anchor of patience and
compassion, suggesting – without stating outright – a deep connection between
the two men. This bond, never fully clarified by the film, leaves the audience
questioning: is Anselmo simply a caring attendant, or does a more intimate,
perhaps familial, connection exist?
The film’s art direction and
cinematography are equally impeccable. Soft, almost faded colors and diffuse
lighting create a melancholic, nostalgic atmosphere that permeates the film,
reinforcing the sense of loss and the weight of time. The subtle, discreet
score accompanies scenes delicately, amplifying the emotional impact of key
moments without ever overpowering the narrative.
“A Volta Para Casa” is a profound
meditation on aging, memory, and the value of human connections. With his small
wooden house, Plínio clings to what remains of his identity and memories, while
Anselmo, with his patience and care, represents the hope that, even amid loss
and forgetting, there is room for acts of kindness and empathy. The film
invites reflection on the finitude of life and how we navigate the passage of
time – not with answers, but with solidarity and acceptance.




No comments:
Post a Comment