Futuros Amantes

By judging the short films Lux (2021) and Future Lovers (2022), the filmmaker Jessika Goulart has a predilection for telling stories of isolated women to some extent. In the first film, a Young Woman faced the pressures of the outside world on her image in (dis)conformity with the logic of appearances cultivated in social networks. Solitary, she interacted with an aggressive offscreen, which accentuated her status of psychological and emotional isolation. In the second film, Lorna (Lux Négre) is in a literal state of hibernation, withdrawn in na abandoned factory that signals a dystopian atmosphere. Even though this time the protagonist has an image to star with - the foreman Bóris (Gabriel Manita) - we are still in the terrain of the woman's loneliness, but now on the transsexual black woman. For over 30 years voluntarily confined to help the planet recover from man-made damage, she is awakened from time to time by her guardian that owns a robot-like speech and mannerism.

What first stands out in "Future Lovers" is the creativity of the art direction signed by Débora Câncio to outline this dystopian imagery. Lorna's oxygen mask is made from the bottom of a PET bottle, and the equipment that surrounds it looks more abandoned than current. Also, the visible oxidation in certain places points to the existence of a scenario alluding to the catastrophic situation of human existence. The screenplay by Fidelys Fraga emphasizes Lorna and Boris' routine, suggesting that it may have been dragging on for decades. It is possible to perceive this between the lines of the dialogues, especially when the two talk briefly about the recurrences of behavior. With this in mind, Jessika Goulart leads us through a path that is at the same time succinct and full of information arranged in less superficial layers. And, what seems relevant: its camera manages to capture, from the carnality of the bodies, the humanity of this futuristic reality given to the artificial.

Science fiction is a popular genre that often proposes reflections on dehumanization. This is the result of the increasing control given to the machines. In this way, emotions, ambivalences, complexities and weaknesses would lose space for a conception of the world guided by millimeter precision, pre-conditioned decision-making, infallible programming and alike. In "Future Lovers'', Jessika uses the sensuality of Lux Négre's body as a tool to break away from the ''future". The first scene of her sanitizing herself during her brief waking period points to that. The camera lingers on the touches, on the contacts of the damp cloth with the skin summoned to hibernation, on the face of pleasure that the protagonist presents in this small liturgy of remembering what it is to feel. In the second scene of this type, Lorna is in front of the man with whom she now acts opposite in person. The organic condition is reinforced by eroticism that causes several immediate effects on the caregiver.

Again, Jessika's attentive camera stops at the dry swallow that suggests desire. In turn, this desire is an antidote to the robotization of the future that threatens its standardization processes. Without needing to put these things in the characters' mouths, "Future Lovers" presents a veiled clash between the protocol in charge of plastering desire, which, in turn, brings with it the chaotic force that awakens from lethargy. The dubbing has an ambiguous effect: it distances itself slightly by denouncing itself and creates a new layer of estrangement in this seemingly unadmirable new world. Visually, Jessika Goulart's short film is inventive, see the creative solutions mentioned above in line with the digital effects that help in the design of a consistent imaginary. Within an authorial perspective still, having as parameters this film and Lux, Jessika seems especially interested in creating tensions between the Onscreen and the Offscreen demonstrating a potency in this.