By BRUNO FABRICIO ALCEBINO DA SILVA*
Considerations on Ariano Suassuna's play and the films based on this work
“He sent for the vicar: / – Ready! – the vicar arrived. / – At your service, Your Excellency! / The bishop asked him: / – So, which dog was it / That the reverend buried? / – It was an important dog, an intelligent animal: / before he died, / he left Your Excellency / Two thousand réis in gold. / If I was wrong, be patient / – No, you were not wrong, my vicar, / you are a good shepherd. / Excuse me for bothering you, / it is the owner’s fault! / A dog like that, / you can see that it deserves it! (Leandro Gomes de Barros, “The Burial of the Dog”, excerpt from The money).
“I don’t know, I just know that it was like this.” That’s how I grew up, that’s how I was educated, that’s how I lived. I was born in the backlands of Cariri, in Ceará, but I was raised in São Paulo, listening to my grandmother and father tell the traditional and often comical stories that they heard or experienced there. The dry and austere vastness of this region, its rugged contours and its resilient people have always shaped my perception of the world.
when reading Compassionate Auto (1955), by Ariano Suassuna, I was inevitably transported to a place very close to my own, albeit fictional: Taperoá, in Paraíba. There, the settings and characters seemed to speak directly to my memories, to the experiences of someone who knows the nuances of the Northeastern backlands, its dilemmas and its beauties.
The term “auto,” which gives the play its title, refers to a medieval literary tradition that found its most striking expression in Portugal, with authors such as Gil Vicente. The autos, of a religious or moralizing nature, were theatrical performances that sought to entertain and instruct, combining comic and dramatic elements. In Suassuna, this tradition is revitalized and adapted to the reality of the Northeast, composing a text that is simultaneously local and universal, popular and erudite, comic and tragic.
right from the start, Compassionate Auto presents itself as a work that transcends easy categorization. The narrative, centered on the figures of João Grilo and Chicó, is a kaleidoscope of cultural, historical and religious references. João Grilo, the archetypal anti-hero, is the personification of backlands cunning, while Chicó, his adventure companion, embodies the fabulous imagination and orality so typical of the people of the Northeast. Both, through their tricks and misadventures, question institutions and social hierarchies, exposing the contradictions of a society deeply marked by inequality and hypocrisy.
The play was written based on popular novels and stories from the Northeast, as exemplified by the epigraph of this text, which reflects the rich literary and cultural tradition of the region, especially cordel literature, an authentic expression deeply rooted in Northeastern culture. Cordel, with its rhymes and engaging narratives, has always been a form of resistance and preservation of the history and popular beliefs of the people of the Northeast. It emerges from anonymous voices, everyday experiences and local mythologies, often addressing themes such as folklore, legends, the challenges of life in the backlands and the heroic figures that become part of the collective imagination.
The plot, set in Taperoá, intertwines the daily life of the backlands with universal themes such as justice, faith and morality. At the heart of the narrative is the final judgment, where figures such as the Devil, Manuel (Jesus Christ) and Our Lady of Compadecida play crucial roles. This judgment is a brilliant synthesis of Brazilian religious syncretism, blending elements of traditional Catholicism with popular religiosity. Our Lady, for example, is portrayed as the ultimate intercessor, endowed with deep empathy for human suffering, while the Devil embodies not only metaphysical evil, but also the concrete injustices of the earthly world.
One of the most notable aspects of the play is its masterful use of language. Suassuna manages to recreate the oral tradition of the Northeast with a precision and lyricism that make the text deeply authentic. Idiomatic expressions, popular sayings and the peculiar humor of the backlands are explored in such a way as to give the work its own musicality, which is at once comical and poetic. This use of language is also an act of cultural resistance, an affirmation of the richness and uniqueness of the Northeast tradition in a historical context marked by the marginalization of this region in the national imagination.
Another essential element is humor, which permeates the entire narrative and serves as a means of subversion and criticism. Laughter in Ariano Suassuna is not just an end in itself; it is a powerful tool for revealing power structures and questioning social norms. The scenes involving figures such as the baker, the adulterous woman and the greedy priest are clear examples of how humor can be used to expose hypocrisy and corruption, without losing sight of the complexity and humanity of the characters.
However, Compassionate Auto is much more than a social satire. It is also a deeply spiritual work, which addresses existential issues in an accessible and touching way. The juxtaposition between the comic and the tragic reflects the human experience itself, especially in the context of the backlands, where the struggle for survival is accompanied by a rich spiritual and cultural life. This duality is exemplified in the figure of João Grilo, who, despite all his flaws and tricks, reveals a deep understanding of the human condition and a genuine desire for justice and redemption.
Finally, one cannot speak of Compassionate Auto without highlighting its cultural impact. Since its debut in 1955, the work has been adapted and reinterpreted in various formats, including film and television, always with great success. This ability to resonate with such diverse audiences is a testament to its artistic strength and timeless relevance.
Thus, when I revisited the play, I not only recognized the features of the Taperoá backlands, but I also saw, reflected in Suassuna's work, the dilemmas, hopes and greatness of a people who, like João Grilo, find in cunning and faith the tools to face life's adversities. It is a work that, more than ever, speaks to the soul of Brazil.
Between the sacred and the profane: Compassionate Auto at the movies
When The Car of Compadecida was released in 2000, it not only adapted Ariano Suassuna's theatrical masterpiece; the film redefined the limits of Brazilian cinema by blending popular comedy with a profound cultural and spiritual subtext. Under the direction of Guel Arraes, the narrative stitched together the rich universe of cordel literature with a rare cinematic vigor, valuing the orality of the Northeastern region, the cleverness of the characters and the religious syncretism that defines much of the deep Brazil.
Now, almost a quarter of a century later, the arrival of The Auto da Compadecida 2 presents new challenges and celebrates old achievements, reflecting not only changes in the characters, but also in national cinema itself.
The 2000 adaptation transformed a material originally intended for theater and radio into one of the most remarkable successes in Brazilian audiovisual production. What was crucial in this process was not only the fidelity to Suassuna's language and humor, but also the ability to transport his essence to a more dynamic and visually rich format. Guel Arraes' camera explored the backlands not as a merely arid and desolate space, but as a vibrant stage for human emotions and universal conflicts. The plasticity of the settings and the lightness of the editing expanded the scope of the work, allowing João Grilo and Chicó to transcend their regional origins to become archetypes of trickery, courage and survival in a world of inequality.
The first film balanced the sacred and the profane with unusual elegance. The presence of Fernanda Montenegro as the Compadecida not only anchored the film in the Catholic imagination, but also gave gravity and beauty to the final judgment, in contrast to the hilarious adventures of João Grilo (Matheus Nachtergaele) and Chicó (Selton Mello). The result was a work that managed to be simultaneously critical and devotional, regional and universal, comical and moving.
Moreover, The Compadecida Auto 2 comes at a time when Brazilian cinema is facing both budgetary challenges and pressure for narrative innovation. The sequel, directed again by Guel Arraes and co-written by Flávia Lacerda, preserves the humorous essence and charisma of the protagonists, but is less bold in its ambitions. If the first film was a celebration of creativity and narrative virtuosity, the 2024 film prefers to revisit established formulas, sometimes without the necessary freshness to reinvent them.
The choice to explore the same archetypes in a new dispute – now an electoral one – works as a contemporary allegory, but lacks the depth that made the original timeless. By placing João Grilo at the center of a dispute between local power brokers, the film addresses relevant issues about political manipulation and ambition, but many of these reflections end up diluted in a plot that prioritizes easy humor over more blunt social criticism.
Even so, there are merits that cannot be ignored. The use of animations to illustrate Chicó's "stories" is an innovation that respects the original narrative spirit while exploring new visual languages. Furthermore, the introduction of new characters, such as Antônio do Amor (Luiz Miranda) and the new Compadecida (Taís Araújo), brings vitality to the cast and proves that there is room for reinvention within this universe.
The replacement of Fernanda Montenegro by Taís Araújo in the role of Compadecida epitomizes the sequel's biggest challenge: how to appropriate an iconic legacy without distorting it? Araújo delivers a performance that balances softness and charisma, but inevitably carries the weight of succeeding one of the greatest actresses in the history of cinema. Her performance, however, signals an attempt to modernize the film, bringing Compadecida closer to a more accessible and less hieratic figure.
Nachtergaele and Selton Mello remain the heart of the story. The duo's chemistry is so remarkable that it overshadows any narrative problems. João Grilo is still the irresistible rogue, while Chicó continues to be the storyteller full of fears and contradictions. However, it is notable that the 2024 script, in its attempt to reproduce the successes of 2000, ends up restricting the characters' development. The feeling of repetition is inevitable, especially for those who have the first film fresh in their memory.
Perhaps the greatest merit of the new adaptation lies in its ability to bring the audience back to Suassuna's universe, even if it does so in a less inspired way than it could have. The film is an invitation to nostalgia, but it doesn't take enough risks to expand the narrative boundaries of the original. At a time when Brazilian cinema is struggling for space amid high-budget foreign productions, the sequel's lack of boldness is understandable, but it is still frustrating.
On the other hand, the work reaffirms the enduring power of Suassuna's characters and the cultural impact of his stories. Even when it is not fully inventive, The Compadecida Auto 2 proves that Brazil still knows how to laugh at itself – and, sometimes, this ability is all we need to move forward.
*Bruno Fabricio Alcebino da Silva He is majoring in International Relations and Economic Sciences at the Federal University of ABC (UFABC).
References

Aryan Suassuna. Auto da Compadecida. Rio de Janeiro, Nova Fronteira, 2018, 208 pages. [https://amzn.to/4hmxLqs]

The Auto da Compadecida 2.
Brazil, 2024, 114 minutes.
Directed by: Guel Arraes, Flavia Lacerda.
Screenplay: Guel Arraes, Adriana Falcao.
Cast: Matheus Nachtergaele, Selton Mello, Virginia Cavendish, Eduardo Sterblitch, Enrique Diaz, Luiz Miranda, Taís Araújo.
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