Fátima says she doesn’t have any feelings but finds herself dreaming about her new policeman neighbor. Her son Vítor secretly wears that policeman’s uniform, hoping it might bring pleasure to a boy he met online. Grandma Júlia wants to escape her retirement home and run away from her husband, but she doesn’t know where to go. A spiral of insomnia and nocturnal illusions leads to misunderstandings and impossible relationships, all seeking a little air.
We’re on Air, the title of Diogo Costa Amarante’s debut feature film, presents us with a duality of understanding. On the one hand, the expression indicates the act following take-off on an aeroplane journey: and this is where the characters, Fátima (the mother), Vítor (the son) and Júlia (the grandmother), find themselves, that moment following the change. Each of them is trying to live with that shiver we feel after boarding the plane and each of them, in their own way, is trying to find their own space of comfort on this journey. But ‘We’re on air’ also means that the television programme is live, being broadcast. And in this sense, each of the characters is also watching the lives of the others from the audience point of view (this is literally Vítor’s job), without this interfering with their choices. This almost mathematical narrative duplicity, interspersed with confident and fearless editing and stunning photography by Sabine Lancelin (who was the DOP of Manoel de Oliveira’s last films), makes for an unexpected film. We’re on Air is inviting to the viewer, films a Porto without time, and leaves you complete at the end. Warning: if you’re not in the mood, stay at home! We’re on Air is for those who like cinema without prejudice. – Miguel Valverde
