An elderly man visits a cemetery and lays flowers on a grave. He then strolls through the city, from his balcony watches excavators churning up the ground, and listens to fado concerts on the street, singing about the pain of life. For almost two hours, we see what the man sees; for almost two hours, we hear what he hears. But what does he feel? What does he think? The man hardly acts, and has virtually no interaction with his environment. He is an outsider, an observer. He does not take part in life; life seems to pass him by. In this strikingly consistent fiction debut, filmed in black-and-white, Eryk Rocha gives only subtle hints as to his main character’s state of mind. The concerts are full of musings on love, and attractive young Brazilians drift across the screen. Passerby is a sweet memory, a melancholy look back. In a moderate, mild key – like the Brazilian songs of life.
