Mauro Costa and André Cabral in Fogo-Fátuo (Will-o’-the-Whisp) (Unifrance)

Portuguese director João Pedro Rodrigues goes for it in the low-budget Fogo-Fátuo, the most audacious, funniest, and unpredictable work seen at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival. There’s little indication from his earlier films, like To Die Like a Man and The Ornithologist, that he had such a frisky sense of humor. The English title translates as Will-o’-the-Whisp, a suitable description for the brief and elusive love affair between Prince Alfonso, heir to an empty throne, and a comrade in arms.

The film can be best described by its subtitle, A Musical Fantasy, although it might more appropriate to call it a musical erotic fantasy. There’s more male nudity on display than in the entire festival. It features not one but two realistic-looking money shots. Rodrigues takes on many threads of Portuguese history: the dethroned monarchy, colonialism, race, environmentalism (arborists will love this movie), all wrapped up within a gay love story. Barely 70 minutes long, it’s the one entry at Cannes that I wish had been longer, just for the enjoyment to see what out-of-left-field scenario would next splash on screen. 

The story begins in 2069, with an elderly Prince Alfredo (Joel Branco), dying in a bare, white room. Only an 18th-century painting featuring Black dwarfs in aristocratic dress, José Conrado Roza’s The Bridal Masquerade, leans against the back wall as the royal family’s one remaining heirloom. While his oblivious great nephew plays with toys on top of his royal highness’s body, the dying man murmurs the name of Alfonse. Cut then to the 2010s, when Alfredo, now a blonde, curly-haired princeling in his early 20s (actor Mauro Costa, fresh out of drama school), shocks his father and his haughty mother (who is still a queen in her mind) by announcing that he will strike a blow for independence from his fatuous family and become a fireman: Too many wildfires have destroyed the countryside, including a royal pine forest. 

His training takes place in no ordinary firehouse. The men wear designer jock straps in the locker room, and the entire unit tests Alfredo’s knowledge of art history (his major): They strike a pose, mimicking classical paintings, with a twist. It’s like voguing, except instead of taking inspiration from fashion magazines it’s Caravaggio, with one fireman totally nude. Now the film becomes a phallic festival. When Alfredo is later tested on the various Portuguese forests, he refers to projected slides, but instead of trees, he examines close-up photos of penises in various stages of excitement.

These episodes form a memory piece, of when the young Alfredo had a fleeting flight of happiness with his Black supervisor, Alfonso (André Cabral). Their courtship begins during  the training. Teaching the young prince how to render first aid, the fireman lies down shirtless and commands Alfredo to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, taunting the newbie with “Ventilate me, you pig.” The White underling does as he’s told. 

The eclectic soundtrack ranges from excerpts from Mozart’s The Magic Flute to an electro-scored ballet that combines modern dance and gymnastic movements in a pas de deux between Alfredo and Alfonso, exuberantly choreographed by Madalena Xavier. The movie concludes with a traditional royalist fado sung at a funeral. However, its lyrics have been rewritten to conclude with “and they sung to the phallus,” underscoring what’s on everyone’s mind here.