Exorcising history through music and dance:

Lucia Udvardyova: The film follows Eulália, a woman who encounters several invisible challenges and whose path oscillates between joy and tension. The film depicts both the personal story of Eulália and the historical development of Santo Tirso, a town near Porto, Portugal, where it is set. Can you talk about the idea behind the film?

Antony Fernandes and Carmina Repas Gonçalves: "The Colors of Water" (As Cores da Água) was designed to be a cultural mediation show created with the community of Santo Tirso in 2019. We had already started conversations with the Municipality of Santo Tirso, and we were scheduled to begin working in mid-April 2020, with the public presentation planned for sometime in the summer (July or August). But just like everyone else in the whole world, our plans were disrupted in March by a virus that prevented any human contact. For an organization that works essentially with communities, the lockdown was a very hard blow, both psychologically and financially. We couldn't work, yet the expenses kept coming.

In Portuguese, there is an expression that says "a necessidade aguça o engenho", which can be translated as "necessity is the mother of invention." And so, we began to think about how the project could still be executed, but in a controlled way and without putting anyone's health at risk. Since one of our team members is a videographer, it seemed like a good idea to transform this project into a film. The problem was that we had never made a movie before, and therefore, we had no idea how to do it!

We started by defining what the focus of the film would be. Santo Tirso has been an extremely industrialized city since the beginning of the 20th century. Before that, it was a mainly rural territory with a low population density. With the arrival of the textile industry, the population began to increase, social and economic inequalities became increasingly evident, and cases of abuse of power, exploitation, and poverty grew as well. From the end of the 19th century until April 1974 (the end of the dictatorship in Portugal), several generations of people saw their rights ignored and even violated—especially women (the main workforce of the textile industry) and children.

We realized that many people who lived through this reality were still alive and that only now, after so many years, were they willing to talk about what happened to them.

Thus, the film began to take shape; we knew which path we wanted to follow. The next step was to find funding and a team with experience in filmmaking. That was when Alexandra Barbosa came along—a young and talented director who fell in love with the project and embarked on this adventure with us.

Once the whole team was assembled, we began interviewing former factory workers and anthropologists who studied these phenomena, and the film's imagery began to take shape in our minds.

Many of the stories we heard were too violent to be told verbally, and we didn't want to make a "horror" movie. We wanted people to understand that while a process as abrupt as the industrialization of a territory caused so much suffering to so many women, it also brought progress and better living conditions to a population that had previously survived mostly on agriculture. That was how the idea came about to make a practically silent film, where dance and music show us the life of Eulália and her family.

Udvardyova: The name of the film is The Colors of Water (or As Cores da Água in its original version) - what is the importance of water for the film’s narrative and atmosphere?

Fernandes and Repas Gonçalves: Santo Tirso is a city bathed by several rivers. In fact, one of the main reasons the industry settled in that territory (besides the cheap, more submissive workforce) was the presence of numerous watercourses, a crucial resource for the textile industry. The rivers were used to generate electricity by installing small hydroelectric plants. Each factory had its own plant, which allowed for a massive reduction in production costs. The proximity to the rivers was also used for washing and treating fabrics, as well as for washing the vats where the textiles were dyed. Until quite recently, the three rivers flowing through the territory—the Ave River, the Sousa River, and the Leça River—were among the most polluted rivers in Europe, containing massive amounts of heavy metals.

The name came from an image I recall from when I was a child. Although I am not a native of that area, I am from a neighboring city. When I was a child and went with my family to Vizela (which used to be part of Santo Tirso), I was fascinated to see that the river always had a different color: sometimes it was blue, other times red, other times yellow, or even completely black... At the time, in my innocence, I thought it was wonderful; the river wasn't boring like the others. That is where the title "The Colors of Water" (As Cores da Água) came from.

Udvardyova: The film is divided into several chapters and follows a narrative that switches between different historical periods, as well as shifting from a more narrative-driven storytelling (the factory that we see later abandoned and derelict, the books that the characters were sharing and reading, the impending sense of tension and anxiety) to a more abstract, largely dance-driven one. Can you talk about the movie's temporal, spatial, and aesthetic narrative?

Fernandes and Repas Gonçalves: The film begins somewhere in the 1960s. Eulália comes from a family of farmers, but she dreams of working in the factory so she can help her family. What she doesn't know is that her mother, who had also been a factory worker, was a victim of child labor exploitation and sexual abuse. The moment when all colors disappear from the film and the tension rises is when we are transported back to the 1930s; we are confronted with the mother's history and traumas, and we realize why she doesn't want Eulália to work at the factory. However, the father's accident and his inability to work leave the family in financial hardship, forcing Eulália to take a job at a factory. With the factory came romance and rebellion (the books circulating from hand to hand were banned by the fascist regime's censorship).

We then fast-forward to the post-April 25, 1974 era—the revolution that ended a 52-year dictatorship—to the labor struggles, and to the literacy campaigns for the population. Consequently, it also brought the decline of the industry by putting an end to state protectionism. The doors of the world opened to Portugal, and an industry that had thrived on exploited labor and cheap raw materials (sourced from the colonies in Africa) lost its momentum, leading many of the factories to close down.

Udvardyova: Music and dance play a crucial part in the film and are the tools through which the main character expresses herself - there is no speech in the film, only music. Can you talk about how the music and dance part of the film came about? What musicians did you work with, and how was their music incorporated into the film?

Fernandes and Repas Gonçalves: As I mentioned before, we didn't want to be overly explanatory. This film is about the textile industry and was made for the people of Santo Tirso, but it can easily be understood by people who work in other industries, such as footwear, for example. The stories are always very similar… When we decided that we didn't want a spoken film, we ran the risk that a large part of it might not be understood by those who hadn't lived through this reality or who didn't know much about modern Portuguese history. But it was a risk we chose to take. This was an ode to the working-class women of Santo Tirso; we made this film for them, and based on the feedback we received, the message was delivered.

Thus, the first step after gathering testimonies was creating and writing the story and characters. The music began to emerge in response to the prompts in the text. With the absence of dialogue, the story had to be told through music and dance. We realized that in some parts we needed to be quite explicit musically, but that there was also room for more free and improvised moments, such as the musical and choreographic exploration of the factory in the second act. Once the music was ready, the choreography was created through a lot of improvisation directly at the filming locations. Only after that was the storyboard locked in. It's interesting to think that when we created the music, we had a specific image in mind—a certain "mood"—but the dancers often felt things very different from what we had imagined! We, the musicians, and even the screenwriter, were constantly surprised by the final result!

The main focus of Projecto Cardo is traditional music—that's where we feel comfortable—but for this film, we also needed something different, something that represented the noisy and rhythmic sounds of a factory. The music was therefore conceived by four musicians: ourselves, Antony Fernandes (vocals, flutes, and bagpipes) and Carmina Repas Gonçalves (vocals and viola da gamba); Tiago Manuel Soares on vocals and percussion; and António Bexiga on vocals and viola campaniça, an experienced soundtrack composer.

Virtually all the music was recorded live rather than track-by-track, giving the soundtrack a more organic quality. We are aware that the music didn't turn out technically perfect, but perfection wasn't what we wanted to achieve. We wanted the emotion, the feeling, the unpredictability of the moment.

The audio recording, editing, and mastering were done by Daniel Santo and Ricardo Torres, two brilliant sound engineers who were essential to the project's success.

Udvardyova: The team behind the film comes from various creative fields - from cinema to music, to video and artistic direction. How did you all come together to make this film?

Fernandes and Repas Gonçalves: Honestly, we were very lucky with our team. It was the first time we had worked with some of those artists, with the director being one of them. It could have gone very wrong, but no—it was precisely the opposite!

Alexandra was recommended to us by the director we had initially chosen, who couldn't accept the job due to health reasons. She had graduated from her filmmaking course very recently, but she showed outstanding creativity, immense organizational skills, and a wonderful personality—ideal for this project!

Filipe Carlos is a historian, also from an industrial city. He was the one who had the difficult task of creating Eulália's story without using words!

Abel has been working with us for many years and has a lot of experience in video capture and editing. He is extremely talented, hardworking, and generous!

Daniel and Ricardo have also been with Projecto Cardo since the beginning. We don't trust anyone else to capture and edit our music.

The team of dancers was chosen by Joana Lopes, who was responsible for the choreographic direction. Dancers from contemporary music, urban dance, and an actor with an extraordinary background in physical theater were selected.

Tiago Manuel Soares and António Bexiga are two wonderful musicians and friends!

People from local organizations also helped as extras. I must confess that managing large groups during the pandemic crisis was a real challenge and very scary! We were responsible for the health and safety of dozens of people. At every recording session, we performed tests (our noses were raw from so many tests!!). Fortunately, no one ever got sick during filming..

As I said, it could have gone very wrong. This was a very diverse team, and most of us had no idea how to make a movie. Throughout the process, everyone made a huge effort; we were all in the same boat, and all of us wanted to achieve the best possible result! Everyone was absolutely fundamental, and we wouldn't trade this team for anyone. Without them, none of this would have been possible!

Udvardyova: The team behind the film is also involved in The Cardo Project, an association whose main objective is to intervene artistically and pedagogically in contemporary society through music, focusing much of its work on the preservation, dissemination, and promotion of traditional Portuguese music. Can you talk about this initiative?

Fernandes and Repas Gonçalves: Before Projecto Cardo, there was Cardo-Roxo—a duo formed by the two of us, Antony and Carmina, to reinterpret and preserve traditional Portuguese musical heritage. We have recorded 7 albums over our 13 years of existence, always featuring many guests (clearly, we love to record!). We love seeing what other musicians can bring to our music!

Projecto Cardo came about when we started receiving proposals to carry out cultural mediation projects. Over the years, we have worked with both rural, isolated communities and urban communities that were disconnected from their ancestral roots. We have carried out projects with schools—both in regular education and specialized music education—as well as with school orchestras and choirs. We have also developed projects related to environmental education and the relationship between traditional music and nature. In all our projects, we pay close attention to documenting the creative processes, resulting in a vast array of album releases, sheet music books, and documentaries.

We also run a small music school for adults, where we teach traditional instruments, choir, and dance.

During the lockdown, we created "Learning with the Sound of the Conch Shells" (Aprender com o Som dos Búzios), an audiovisual pedagogical project aimed at promoting the use of traditional music in schools. The collection already includes 15 videos along with their respective educational content.

Right now, we are developing a project called AD ORIENTEM, which aims to study historical spaces with exceptional acoustics (mainly churches and monasteries) with the intent of creating a network of locations equipped for concerts and/or recordings. We study the physical conditions (e.g., dimensions, accessibility...), the surroundings (e.g., logistics, distance to public transport or airports), and the acoustic properties by conducting an acoustic study. We recently completed the pilot project focused on the north of Portugal, and this year we applied for the Creative Europe cooperation projects support program with the goal of expanding the network into peripheral European countries. We are currently awaiting the results…

Udvardyova: Are you working on any new films at the moment?

Fernandes and Repas Gonçalves: "The Colors of Water" was a wonderful project that gave us a lot of pleasure, but at the same time, it was very exhausting: the budget was very low, just over €50,000, our experience was very limited, and the conditions under which we filmed, right in the middle of the pandemic crisis, made the whole process very difficult.

Today, we continue to use video to record and document our mediation projects, and we have an early children's educational project using pedagogical videos, but making a film like this again is not in our plans... But who knows! Maybe in the future, we will venture into the world of cinema once more…