A Menina E O Cavalo 1983 Now
In the landscape of Brazilian experimental cinema, few works possess the unsettling, dreamlike power of "A Menina e o Cavalo" (The Girl and the Horse), a 1983 short film directed by the enigmatic Maurice Capovilla . Clocking in at just under 20 minutes, the film is a minimalist, dialogue-free fable that defies easy categorization. It is at once a pastoral idyll, a psychosexual exploration, and a raw, almost anthropological study of the boundary between the human and the animal. Decades after its release, the film retains its power to disturb, fascinate, and provoke, largely due to its unflinching central metaphor and its radical treatment of a child actor in a deeply symbolic role. Context: Brazilian Cinema in Transition To understand A Menina e o Cavalo , one must place it within the broader context of early 1980s Brazilian cinema. The military dictatorship (1964–1985) was in its twilight years, but censorship remained a shadow over the arts. The exuberant, politically engaged Cinema Novo movement of the 1960s and 70s—led by figures like Glauber Rocha and Nelson Pereira dos Santos—had fragmented. In its place emerged a more introspective, allegorical, and often darker cinema. Filmmakers turned inward, using surrealism, myth, and the body as sites of resistance. Capovilla, an Italian-Brazilian director known for his daring adaptations (e.g., O Jogo da Vida ), was a perfect fit for this moment. A Menina e o Cavalo can be seen as a radical distillation of this turn: a film that says everything by showing what is barely permissible. Plot: A Wordless Ritual The film’s narrative is deceptively simple, almost ritualistic. A pre-adolescent girl (played by the then 11-year-old actress Cristina Achcar ) lives alone or is isolated in a vast, sun-bleached, rural landscape—a sparse farm or a wild pampas. There are no adults, no dialogue, no explanatory context. Her only companion is a large, powerful, dark-coated horse. The film follows their strange, repetitive days.
The girl does not ride the horse in any conventional sense. Instead, she engages in a series of intimate, tactile rituals: she strokes its flanks, presses her body against its warmth, whispers (inaudibly) into its ear. She grooms it obsessively, braiding its mane with wildflowers. The horse, for its part, is depicted as a creature of immense patience and latent power—sometimes docile, other times skittish. A Menina E O Cavalo 1983
In the end, the horse and the girl remain locked in their silent dance—a haunting, beautiful, and profoundly unsettling image of innocence wrestling with a body it does not yet understand. For those who seek cinema that disturbs the sleep of the comfortable, A Menina e o Cavalo remains an essential, if nearly unwatchable, masterpiece. In the landscape of Brazilian experimental cinema, few
