It was at the trendy Studio SP, on the chaotic Rua Augusta, that Thiago came to let us hear his songs. We’d just arrived in town, we didn’t know much yet about life in Sao Paulo and Thiago, the actor turned singer, was to quickly become our guide and friend. His songs had a distinctively French accent, and at times he liked to be known as “Le Pethit Prince”.
That same evening, we met Marion. She was dressed elegantly in white and, from a distance, she looked like a modern, Brazilian incarnation of a certain sort of Parisian charm. A strange sight when you know nothing about Brazil and expect to hear samba being played on every street corner. We got caught up in a waltz while Thiago and his musicians played with their European accents, and we fell a little bit in love with this strange modern version of Brazilian cannibalism.
After Thiago’s concert, we all spoke together about our aspirations and our travels. We still had in mind the idea of doing a Sao Paulo-style cabaret, with a piano in the middle, and we thought we ought to take it out into the street. But not just any old street – the Minhocao, that famous and much detested motorway that cuts through the heart of the city and is transformed into a huge playground every Sunday when it is closed to traffic.
And that’s exactly what we did the following Sunday, getting a few friends together to join in the fun, waltzing and singing in the midst of piles of furniture, surrounded by football players and ice-cream sellers.
We shoot our films as a sort of snapshot of a group, a souvenir of a particular moment in time. We have excuses for everything; we always find a way of using art as a pretext for getting the best out of life. Like making films with Thiago Pethit as a way of capturing an image of Marion dressed in white.
Translated by Stuart Mudie