FIFA 2024: Skin of Glass (by Denise Zmekhol) | Review
Skin of Glass successfully weaves personal and political narratives, through the lens of the iconic ‘Pele de vidro’, shedding light on the housing crisis and the resilience of marginalized communities.
Featured at the 42nd Montreal International Festival of Films on Art (FIFA) at the Canadian Centre for Architecture, Skin of Glass immerses us in the captivating story of the ‘Pele de vidro’, an emblematic architectural masterpiece erected in the 1960s by architect Roger Zmekhol, symbolizing Brazilian modernity. Initially conceived as a symbol of progress and transparency in the heart of São Paulo, this avant-garde building has undergone a tumultuous evolution over the decades.
From the outset, viewers are captivated by the poetic beauty of the film. Denise Zmekhol’s narration, imbued with warmth and vulnerability, guides us through her complex family history, marked by the loss of her father, architect Roger Zmekhol. Through the lens of her father’s magnum opus, the ‘Pele de vidro’, the film plunges us into a quest for understanding and reconciliation with the past.
Now living in California, the director returns to Brazil in search of her father, who passed away suddenly when she was just 14, crystallizing a profound wound between them. By studying her father’s major work, Denise reconnects not only with her father but also with her home country and its socio-economic upheavals. Like its creator, the ‘Pele de vidro’ experienced an unexpected fate, marked by its premature demise.
Skin of Glass goes beyond exploring the director’s personal history. By skillfully intertwining personal and political narratives, the film offers a profound reflection on urbanism, politics, and social injustices in Brazil. Following the tumultuous journey of the ‘Pele de vidro’, symbolizing a modern, transparent Brazil, the documentary sheds light on the battered destiny of this glass giant and the housing challenges in major cities, as well as the struggles of marginalized communities for their fundamental rights.
After the bankruptcy of its initial owner, the ‘Pele de vidro’ fell under state control, serving as a police headquarters during the dictatorship. Then, from the late 2000s, the building was left abandoned, becoming a dilapidated symbol of urban policy failures. It is in this context that families without homes occupied it, radically changing the purpose of the ‘Pele de vidro’.
The occupation of the ‘Pele de vidro’ by these disadvantaged families reveals the extent of the housing crisis in São Paulo and the precarious living conditions of many people. The film plunges us into the heart of this reality, confronting us with the distress and urgency of the situation.
Without resorting to pity, with intelligence, the film portrays the great distress and urgency faced by hundreds of thousands of individuals in São Paulo who are grappling with the housing crisis, for whom occupying abandoned or unused buildings is both a demand for their constitutional right to housing and a refuge they desperately need for themselves and their children. In this building not intended to house people, the infrastructure is very precarious. And it is in an endless human tragedy that we witness the fire that ravages the building where families were accumulating, piling up.
The director skillfully weaves connections between her personal story and the broader issues facing Brazilian society, inviting us to reflect more broadly on the struggles of the marginalized and the housing challenges in major cities.
Technically, the film demonstrates masterful craftsmanship and flawless execution. The attention to visuals and the beautiful soundtrack, filled with beauty, melancholy, and hope, support the film’s high narrative quality and the perfect balance between the intimate and the political.
The voice-over, through which the director sometimes speaks to her father, is also very well-written. The film gently accompanies the director’s shifting perspective, initially seeming troubled by the unwanted occupation of this place so important to her and contributing to its degradation. Then, we understand that she embraces the special destiny of this building, which ultimately serves a purpose not initially imagined, providing refuge for the community. The beauty of the human relationships forming between the director and these individuals warms the heart.
In conclusion, Skin of Glass is a powerful and poignant documentary that lingers in the mind. Humanity is at the heart of the film, allowing for a powerful discourse on urbanism, politics, and the economic urgency faced by many marginalized individuals. It is a great success and a film that deserves to be seen.
Film Fest Report Mehdi Balamissa, along with directors Maureen Gosling (left) and Denise Zmekhol (right) at the International Festival of Film on Art 2024.
