Elizabeth Bishop - Prose

But everywhere, from the north to the south of Brazil, in the interior and in the cities, the play of the Shepherds appears, the group of shepherds in search of the Christ Child, singing and dancing in his honor. All these primitive plays are traditional, the words handed down from generation to generation, the dialogues, even the clown’s jokes, as well as the songs.

However, all these folk festivals, and there are many others, including a variety of “rodeo” in the northeast, pale beside the great Brazilian passion, the Carnival.

Carnival reached Brazil by way of the old Portuguese Entrudo, a rude form of Carnival on Shrove Tuesday, in which masks figured, and “perfume lemons” (balls of colored wax filled with perfumed water) were thrown, but most of the rough fun consisted in throwing basins of cold water and paper sacks of flour.

In Brazil, in the cities (and Carnival is essentially an urban celebration), the Entrudo was gradually transformed into a mass-masquerade, an enormous public ball with general dancing in the streets and organized parades of dancers as well. (Not including the hundreds of private balls being given at the same time.) The paraders belong to special groups, the “ranchos” (meaning “districts,” of the town) and the “Samba Schools,” each group wearing its special costume, elaborate and often costly. The festivities go on for the three nights, all night long, preceding Ash Wednesday; and everything else comes to a complete stop: stores, banks, all work. The sambas of the year are constantly in the air; the streets are filled with slowly-moving samba-ing crowds, the air filled with confetti and streamers and the odor of the “perfume shooters”—flasks of compressed scented ether, that shoot a fine spray and not only perfume the air but give the person who gets hit a momentary thrill of icy coldness. Women samba with babies solemnly rising and falling rhythmically in their arms. It is a happy, good-humored crowd, one of the greatest shows in the world. It was, that is, because it is sad to say, but true, that Carnival, in the big cities, is rapidly being spoiled — by radio, mostly, and also by commercialism and a false idea of what appeals to the “tourist.” Hollywood movies have had their bad effects, too — a few years ago the favorite Carnival costume was taken from a film that had recently been very popular, and hundreds, or thousands, of Davids and Bathshebas samba-ed in inappropriate and ludicrous getups.

But radio and loudspeakers have done the most damage. Perhaps something can be done to save Carnival. Its essence has always been in its spontaneity and the fact that all the songs, music, and dances came directly from the people themselves. When commercial song-writers start composing songs for it, and when these songs are broadcast long before the day, the freshness has gone. Also, when a crowd of thousands sambaing along, singing their own favorite in unison, is confronted with the same samba or another one blaring over their heads at every corner from loudspeakers, in a different tempo & even interrupted by advertising — they give up singing and dancing, and shuffle along like sheep. Photographers have also been allowed to interfere with the street dancers, interrupting the prize-winning performances to get “good shots.” In Rio during the past two Carnivals the crowds finally whistled and booed some particularly obnoxious photographers out of the streets.

But in Recife, for example, the festival still has an authentic folk-lore flavor. The ordinary man goes out to play, or “to break,” as he calls having fun; if he can afford it, he dresses as a “Prince,” a rooster, Indian, devil, or skeleton (very popular). If he hasn’t any money, he improvises a costume, for example, a “woods beast”—simply a cape covered with leaves, like feathers, supposed to look like the primitive Indians. Or he shaves a strip of hair down the crown of his head, paints it red, and arranges it to look as if he has a tommy-hawk sticking in his skull. Or shaves all his head and paints it blue or green. With a parasol he sets out to dance the “frevo,” wild and acrobatic, danced half-crouching. If all else fails, he can go in rags and paint, simply as a “dirty one.”

Besides the radio and Hollywood, much of the fun has been spoiled by the government forbidding political caricatures, or making sport of the Church — some of the cleverest costumes used to be inspired by these old reliable objects of satire.

Rio de Janeiro has its own original institution, the Samba Schools. They are not exactly schools, — clubs, rather, where the members meet during the last months of the year to learn the songs and dances for the coming Carnival. Much time and money are devoted to these schools, whose members are almost entirely poor Negroes from the favelas. The songs are real folk-poetry and music: the themes are love (most important), “social criticism” of the government, the cost of living, politics, — even futebol. A general theme is given all the “Schools” for each Carnival, such as “The Discovery,” or — a few years ago—“The Discovery of Gold.” In one school, the women members danced with huge imitation gold nuggets sparkling on top of their heads. A favorite costume seems to be vaguely Louis XV, and no expense is spared. Where else in the world could one see three hundred Negroes in blue and white and silver Louis XV costumes, with white curled wigs and plumed hats, dancing down the middle of the main street at 4 AM? After them come the women, swaying and singing as they dance — hung with ropes of silver glass beads — and tiny white lights concealed in all the costumes — courtly, ravishing, gracious, to mad music on strange instruments — a fairyland for a night.

In the field of contemporary arts, Brazil is certainly best known for its architecture. Not one of the cities along the coast, from Recife to Porto Alegre, is without its cluster, big or small, but ever-growing, of white “sky-scrapers.” (A “sky-scraper” in Brazil is not necessarily very high; ten or twelve stories raises a building so far above the earlier two-, three-, or four-floored buildings that it qualifies for the title.) And each city also has its large apartment houses, private houses, housing-projects, hospitals, and schools, all built in the contemporary idiom. Many of these are excellent, and well-known, even if only through the architectural reviews, to architects the world over. The majority, as everywhere and in all periods, will probably rank only as mediocre attempts to be “in style.” Nevertheless, it is perfectly true that there is probably more good contemporary architecture in Brazil today than in any other of the world’s under-developed but rapidly growing countries.

This important artistic achievement, Brazil’s greatest, is almost entirely due to a group of imaginative, energetic, sophisticated, and daring architects, most of them still quite young. But Brazilians in general, educated ones, that is, are more architecture-conscious than other peoples. Everyone seems to have strong opinions about modern architecture, pro or con (mostly pro), and to be able to speak with assurance of brise-soleils (“break-suns,” or shutters; the French term is usually used) or pilotis (the pillars raising a building one story off the ground), — the two outstanding features of modern Brazilian building. Brazil is also one of the few countries where contemporary architecture is encouraged, — favored, even, — by the government. While Washington, for example, was sticking safely to the Graeco-Roman for a new Supreme Court building, Brazil was putting up what is still considered one of the best examples of modern architecture, the Ministry of Education in Rio de Janeiro. Competitions are required by law for public buildings, and the prizes usually go to the most advanced entries.