
The aforementioned Bia, in particular, is driven to the point of madness by next door’s howling Weimaraner, finding eventual – if fleeting – solace in the most innocuous of household appliances. Akin to the very nature of soundwaves, each characters’ actions relay and rebound off crumbling walls and across tiled streets, bringing neighbours together by a number of surprising and inventive means – with wildly varying results. Yet, the success of Neighbouring Sounds is by no means limited to Filho and sound designer Pablo Lamar’s affinity with audio. Shot with the precise, mathematical eye of an architect, Recife’s high rises take on huge symbolic significance; they are the gleaming ivory towers that house the city’s rich, who look down to the streets below with a mix of both disdain and trepidation. Humour is also extracted from class.
In one comic scene midway through the film, the residents of João’s apartment building discuss the most humane way to fire their elderly doorman, who has been caught on video asleep at his post. Bourgeois vitriol simmers throughout, with only the likeable João standing up for his man. A climactic, melodramatic plot twist may prove a step too far for those enjoying this slow-burning Brazilian soap opera, but it does at least adhere to the film’s overarching principles. Each and every person is held accountable for their own actions in the present, whilst past transgressions can return to haunt (and ultimately punish) the guilty like a vengeful echo through time. For both its intelligent, pioneering approach to multi-narrative storytelling and its director’s impressive craftsmanship, Filho’s Neighbouring Sounds borders on the unmissable.
Daniel Green