09/07/2023 – 6:26 am
“Angela” addresses the last months of life of socialite Ângela Diniz, the victim of a crime that exposed machismo in Brazil in the 1970s. In an interview, director Hugo Prata explains why he chose not to address the trial of the case , murdered in 1976 by her then-boyfriend, businessman Doca Street, will not be exposed to moral judgments about her past life, nor to the legal arguments that sought to exempt her murderer from guilt, claiming that he acted in “legitimate defense of honor”.
The film portrays Angela’s story without the layers of judgment that blamed the victim for her own murder. “It doesn’t matter how she lived her life,” says director Hugo Prata. “The movie starts the day they met, and ends the day he killed her. That’s what matters.”
The film Angela, which premieres this Thursday (09/07), is the story of a femicide, and rescues what happened to Angela Diniz from the perspective of domestic violence. There is an escalation from outbursts of jealousy to increasingly violent aggression. The blaming of the victim is there, who is beaten and hears phrases like “look what you made me do”. And there is the frisson that surrounded the explosive love affair in Brazilian high society, and culminated in one of the most notorious murders in Brazilian history. Ângela Diniz is played by Isis Valverde, and Doca Street, by Gabriel Braga Nunes.
Known as the “Pantera de Minas”, Ângela Diniz was killed at the age of 32 by Raul Fernando from Amaral Street, known as Doca Street, on December 30, 1976, shortly after ending her relationship with him. Doca shot Angela four times, three in the face and one in the back of the head. The crime took place in the house where they lived for two months in Búzios, a resort in Rio, and was the recent theme of the podcast series “Praia dos Ossos”, the name of the beach where they tried to build a life away from the spotlight of the capitals.
In Doca’s first trial, his defense, led by the well-known lawyer Evandro Lins e Silva, obtained a sentence of only two years for the murderer, using the argument that the death was justified by “legitimate defense of honor”. The lenient sentence motivated feminist protests, inaugurating the motto “who loves does not kill”. In 1981, Doca was tried again and sentenced to 15 years in prison. In August of this year, the Federal Supreme Court declared the use of “legitimate defense of honor” unconstitutional in crimes of femicide or aggression against women.
DW Brasil: What motivated your decision to make a film about Ângela Diniz?
Hugo Prata: After I delivered Elis, my first feature film (about the singer Elis Regina), I started researching stories for a new biography. And I found Angela. Her story was very present in my family. When she was murdered, I was 11 years old and I remember the impact, the scandal, “the panther from Minas”, the images of the Cabo Frio Forum on TV (where the Doca Street trial took place).
I saw that it was necessary to tell his story better. The defense of the first trial not only stuck, but continues to this day. When people talk about Angela’s death, they talk about her former life. The lawyer had to defend a guy who shot a woman four times. He adopted the “legitimate defense of honor” as a strategy. By the way, I never dreamed that I would release the film right after this thesis was formally buried by the STF.
What does it matter if Angela was a party girl, or how her debutante ball went? This strategy of disqualifying the murdered person is very cruel. I thought the story needed another approach.
The podcast “Praia dos Ossos” went deep into this story. Was it an inspiration for you?
No, our project is earlier. I started the film in 2016. The podcast is brilliant, but they are very different products, reaching different audiences. I think audiovisual has a longer reach and life. I made the film thinking about people who don’t know Angela’s story.
For the kids who are going to see it, another Angela is about to be born. She will come up with another image, like the one who dated a violent guy, and not like the partying woman, impossible, everything else. It’s absurd to use that as a justification for her death.
It has that iconic phrase by Carlos Drummond de Andrade from the time of the trial. “That girl continues to be murdered every day and in different ways.” That says a lot about our motivation for making the film.
You spoke of how the image of judgment is perpetuated. How does the film portray Angela?
We discard her past life. It doesn’t matter how she lived her life. She had the right to live however she wanted. She got shot three times in the face because one day she met this guy. So the movie starts on that day.
We also ruled out judgment. Because it was there that the plan to disqualify his image was consolidated. I would never open camera for lawyers creating these arguments. The movie starts on the day they met, and ends on the day he killed her. That’s what matters.
We sought to bring her anguish, to understand what afflicted her. She was said to have a sad smile. That at the party she dominated, but that she had something melancholy about her. It certainly wasn’t easy to have that free spirit in the 1970s, going against traditional, macho society in the grand monde of São Paulo, Rio de Janeiro and Belo Horizonte.
The mother Angela appears strongly in the film, in the anguish she felt with the separation of her children. Did that come from testimonials?
She had three children, had a healthy relationship with them, but was separated from them due to legal problems. We understand that this was a central destabilizing factor.
She gave custody of the children to her husband so that he could sign the separation. This is a common misconception: she never lost custody of her children. The husband did not want her to leave. It was a shame to be dumped by a woman in society at the time. To sign the separation, she imposed custody of the children as a condition. She paid that high price for freedom. I see it as an act of courage.
The film builds well on the gradual escalation of domestic violence. But it shortens Doca’s aggressions, which only appear after the couple moves to Búzios, when there are previous reports of violence in the couple’s life.
We give a password at the beginning, in the scene where Doca takes Angela by the arm, jealous in the club. Or when he talks about his love of hunting. We needed a rising curve. I want people to like him in the first act. That they understand who they were, to accompany how a crazy love then rots and falls apart.
This is the basic structure of violent relationships. We hear so many women say that their partner was the kindest person at first. We wanted to focus on their relationship and understand what happened in that house. Few people know, but it was only four months. They met in August, they went to Búzios two months later, and he killed her two months later. It was all very fast.
“Why didn’t you leave sooner” is the question of all violent relationships. She could tell, but she didn’t. Even being so smart, free. She could have ended it sooner. But she had weaknesses that exposed her to such a relationship.
How has the film been received?
The audience is touched. I started to receive a flood of messages from women telling me that they have lived in violent relationships, or are living in them, or know someone. That the film helped them understand what they lived through. The film clicks.
We didn’t make a film for the military, but the potency of the subject is taking shape. It is impacting people as something contemporary, which speaks of a very quiet phenomenon. How many women have had a boyfriend who took them by the arm and shook them? That’s horrible. But this reasoning is everywhere, in high society, in low society too. We try to be a mirror to expose this.
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