Man Proposes, God Disposes

There’s a DH Lawrence story in which a woman inadvertently sees a man sleeping and is therefore socially obligated to marry him. The idea that two people who have slept together once, resulting in a pregnancy, should therefore marry seems in many ways to be similarly random – a poor guarantee that they will care for each other’s company over time – yet it’s still widely considered to be ‘the right thing to do’. Karol’s mother and sister are more cynical. When they learn that Karol (played by Mateusz Nedza) plans to leave the family home in Poland and travel to Brazil to be with the woman who’s carrying his child, they think he’s insane. But he won’t be dissuaded. He’s a slacker, a petty criminal, and this is the first time in his life that he’s felt as if he has a purpose.

There’s nothing slacker-like about Bruna (Bruna Massarelli). She has a job, a strong network of friends, a clean and comfortable apartment in São Paulo. She seems perfectly capable of raising a child on her own; what she doesn’t need is a useless boyfriend leaching off her at the same time. Yet she’s respectful of Karol’s feelings and his desire to do good, so she takes him in and they set about trying to make it work.

Part romance, part observational comedy, Man Proposes, God Disposes also has a keen sense of the loneliness that being lost in a strange country can bring, and of the pressure that loneliness can put on a relationship. Karol is a friendly guy but he’s completely ignorant of Portuguese to begin with so getting to know anybody else is hard. When he and Bruna fight, he sits alone on the roof, looking out over the vast, unfamiliar city. For her part, Bruna struggles with the sense of additional responsibility that his presence entails, with finding ways to fit him into her life. Director Daniel Leo frames the Polish and Brazilian scenes very differently, further emphasising the distance between them. Karol is often framed in small spaces, in close contact with other people; Bruna from slightly further away, with space around her, so that his approach feels like intrusion. Still, the actors find enough of a spark to persuade us that there was, briefly, something passionate between them, and there could be again.

The last third of the film is almost entirely without dialogue, as we leave the realm of negotiation and enter a space where tightly edited, immersive imagery communicates an experience that is much more about instinct and experience. This is a space in which love seems possible, but in which emotional openness makes both characters vulnerable to each other’s unpleasantness and to unexpected events. It’s here that Leo really works his magic and shows that he’s capable of more that simply spinning out a familiar narrative with a transcontinental twist. The shift in tone works well and his trust in his actors is rewarded.

This is a personable little film that’s more sophisticated than it initially lets on. It’s an affectionate exploration of Brazilian culture and a tribute to all those brave enough to plunge into unfamiliar territory and build their lives anew.