Doña Bárbara
Doña Bárbara (1929) is a novel by Rómulo Gallegos, as widely popular in Venezuela as it is virtually unknown in my country - for all that it is a work of an acknowledged classic and a significant book for its place in Latin American literature.
The very first chapter throws you straight on to the Arauca, river swarming with caimans. There, in a boat, sails a young lawyer Santos Luzardo, returning to his childhood home Altamira, intending to sell the ranch and establish himself in a civilised world. On arriving, he finds out that he cannot do it; he must try and save his inheritance, restore the ranch and bring progress and civilisation to his land. He is very optimistic at first, even though he is warned: the land is cruel and does not forgive, and men fall victims to its spell... same as they succumb to the dangerous charms of doña Bárbara, whose lands border Luzardo's. By innumerable criminal acts, ruses and even witchcraft the extraordinary virago has become the richest local landowner. Our young man would do well to fear her, but he decides to fight her and all the barbaric atrocities of old that she personifies. Doña Bárbara, somewhat alarmed and excited by a new adversary, sets out to charm him... or to destroy.
What makes it immediately attractive for the reader, except for the plot? The characters! All the three protagonists (Luzardo, Bárbara and her abandoned, half-savage daughter Marisela) have strong personalities. Moreover, all the three undercome powerful character development in the course of the story, and the changes are sometimes startling or disturbing, but always sounding true. The specially interesting case is, of course, the antiheroine doña Bárbara, a jewel of a character. At first she appears as such a mad bad witch, a virago-caudillo, cruel and corrupt. She has become a local legend, that of a supernatural evil being, and she deliberately supports the myths. Why? But to protect herself; and as you learn about her past, about what she went through when young and innocent, you are bound to feel at least a little sorry for her. Still, for all that the proud, hard woman carries a wounded being somewhere too deep within her soul, she is now what she made of herself - and if she is so heartless as to renounce motherhood, how can she deal with that 'autumn love' of hers? 'Evil' cannot just become 'good', the author is not as naïve as that...
The evolution of the characters and plot is neatly structured. The book falls into three parts. The first one sets the stage. In part two, everybody and everything begins to change, at first almost imperceptibly... The third part is the denouement: violent events, shocking moments, deaths. (I turned the last pages with trepidation and aching heart: I had to know, and feared, how it all would come out.)
Another curious thing about the characters is that they can be viewed metaphorically! Then doña Bárbara stands for barbarity (her name!), the old order, with its disregard for law, its violence; but also the complete freedom of the unbridled force, at the same time frightening and seductive. Santos Luzardo represents the enlightment, the new world, law, civilisation, values and culture brought from Europe. And Marisela is of simple folk, uneducated, primitive, neither good nor bad, as Nature itself. But she can be taught, and it is the task of such as Luzardo to lead such as Marisela to the better future.
The struggle between Luzardo and doña Bárbara is the opposition of civilisation and barbarity, and this can be safely considered as the main topic of the novel. Sarmiento's book inevitably comes to mind. Maybe that is why the novel is widely read not only in Venezuela, but all over Latin America; and, to tell the truth, the issues it touches are actual everywhere. How to bring progress to the country? How to fight prejudice, firmly grounded primitive beliefs and ever-present corruption? How to resist the temptation to fight back wickedness with its own weapons?
The social problems were so vividly touched upon in the novel, inspiring such respect in contemporary readers, that its author, Rómulo Gallegos, was later to become Venezuela's democratically elected president!
Without any doubt, he loved his country, and this feeling adds poetry and wistful lyricism to his novel.
El Llano
(Picture found here, in a wonderful extensive article about the Llanos and what they are.)
To feel the spirit better:
Click to viewEl Llano of Venezuela is the place of action and even, if you wish, one of the central characters. From Doña Bárbara, the reader can learn a lot about its nature and the customs of its inhabitants, described vividly - I would say, vibrantly. While reading it, it is as if you lived in that world, working together with the peons, dreaming with Marisela and scheming with doña Bárbara...
What else is there in this complex and rich novel? I loved the chapter which is told practically from the point of view of... a wild horse Cabos Negros, who avoids being captured by men.
And there is humour, mixed with social satire. The humour will hardly survive translation, it is to fear (los puntos sobre las haches...).
And, as I have read in the web, the novel is also a predecessor of magic realism! At first, I was sooo surprised about it! Everything seems very much 'realism' without the word 'magic': the psychology, the descriptions, all. But well - there are moments. One of Luzardo's working men, Pajarote (a great supporting character, by the way), loves telling tales of supernatural events and claims to have witnessed all of them! It is just his indomitable flight of fancy, surely, and when he says that a family spirit is back with the arrival of the young master, it forms part of his strategy to support Luzardo. But at night, the men do see (from afar) the bull who is the family spirit. And for other phantoms - it is known that wide open spaces (such as deserts or, here, the Llano) do create mirages...
Also, doña Bárbara has a fame of an evil-eyed witch, assisted by a companion demon. Still we see that most 'witchcraft' is a cunning ruse: she can present herself as a seer when in reality she is just astute, shrewd and exceptionally well-informed. The companion demon? Wee see her actually speak to him- to some shadow, and that is indeed a touch of magic to the text. Yet in that particular 'dialogue' the reader directly witnesses at the end of Part Two, could the shadow be in fact her own voice? Or the voice of her conscience, so long stifled and asleep as to have become 'detached' from her?
One may easily note the duality of interpretation; the 'magic' moments are so finely written that the reader accepts them as natural. All of that creates a unique and unforgettable atmosphere, peculiar to the book and part of its charm.
My impressions
I thoroughly enjoyed it. It came difficult: the language abounds with venezolanismos (there is even a glossary at the end of the book, for even Spanish-speaking readers are not supposed to understand all the regional words!). Then, there are lots of terms referring to cattle and its rearing... But for all that, it has been a challenge worth overcoming, and as I got accustomed to the wealth of new things, it went wondefully. After all, I love it when the author does not condescend to the readers.
By reading only, say, English books one limits oneself unspeakably. Then it can be so refreshing to open a book that takes you into a new and totally different world! Such is this one for me.
More - I cannot express sufficiently just how immensely exciting it is to track doña Bárbara's transformations; and if at first she may seem quite schematic, in the end I came to really care for her and worry about how the story will end!
In the inevitable 'what bugged me' section there are two complaints:
- At the beginning, there is a passing slighting remark about one of the characters (Melquiades). His asiatic features prompt the author to say that he was a type of inferior races, cruel and gloomy, and it leaves an unpleasant impression - even if we are later to know that the character is indeed 'bad' and even as the author mocks racism in the person of Mr Danger, a self-conceited North American who despises all people not born with blue eyes and fair hair.
- All that is feminist in me rebels whenever doña Bárbara is called 'a monstrosity of nature', 'an androgynous demon' and other words as such. Why does her ability to do things that men do inspire revulsion and not admiration? It is said more than once that she was capable of performing all things that were required of her men: she could catch a wild bull, shoot a pistol and more! Yet as the bravery of men is lovingly admired, hers is viewed as 'unnatural'... Weird. It is as if the author admired her strength almost despite himself! Well, it may have to do with the fact that she is 'bad'...
All the same, it left a great impression, and with its message so luminous after all that it is moving in a good way.
No wonder people loved the story and wanted more of it. That resulted in two feature films, an opera, several telenovelas (either based on or inspired by the novel) and, recently, a musical.
Let Maria Felix lure you under the cut to read about the films.
The films
The first film adaptation appeared in 1943, starring the beautiful Mexican diva María Felix as the famous doña. Rómulo Gallegos wrote the script and the dialogues himself. It was filmed in Mexico, not Venezuela, and some people questioned the choice of María Felix, but the author himself was reported to say that the actress was his doña Bárbara.
Close to the book, with carefully chosen actors, directed thoughtfully by Fernando de Fuente, this is probably the best screen adaptation. The social message, so strong in the book, fails to be very prominent in the film, letting the love story and the relationships between the main characters prevail.
María Felix is extraordinarily beautiful (but so doña Bárbara must be), and somehow she conveys the strength that her character possesses.
The actress is convincing enough for me. I can believe she can manage horses and do some jobs in the field: the set of the shoulders seems powerful enough, and her figure, rather strong than fragile. She wears men's clothes with ease. That is how it must be. (I take such a long time to say it because, unfortunately, in almost all later adaptations the fact of Bárbara's physical strength is sadly ignored. Yet it was essential to her survival, and it adds verisimilitude to her image in the story.)
Something never mentioned in the book: she smokes! Very logical and in-character, just another masculine habit she adopts.
Her daughter Marisela, played by the nice María Elena Marqués, seemed not half as rude and dirty as in the book (why, at first Santos could not even see that she was beautiful, such a layer of grime covered her face!), but quite well-groomed. The aesthetic standards of the time may have demanded that. :)
Marisela sings prettily, and although Doña Bárbara is not a musical film, two songs of hers are a fit adornment.
To continue about music, the composer is Francisco Domínguez, and his score reflects very well the vigour and zest for life of the llano's people, as well as the inner torment of the (anti)heroine.
Coming back to Marisela - I also love it that the two actresses, although very different, still share something elusive in their beauty, and that allows one to believe those two were mother and daughter (and their likeness is significant to the plot!).
(Left - María Felix, right - María Elena Marqués)
A little more of the film's imagery...
Just a random shot I like. :)
Mirror, mirror on the wall...
The end is as dramatic and mysterious as in the book. All in all, it is a very worthy and faithful adaptation, in my opinion, even if not all of the book's richness found its place here (most significantly, the temptation of Santos Luzardo, who is sort of too saintly here).
The 1998 adaptation
The 1998 adaptation is an Argentina-USA production, directed by Betty Kaplan.
From the scantiest information I find in the web, the film did not resonate greatly, and many people think that it does not stand up to the first version.
Well. It is striking how all things left out of the first adaptation found their place in the second one! It seems that Betty Kaplan made it her point indeed. So, if in the 1943 film you missed the caimans in the river, the whole family feud story, the Mondragon brothers, Cabos Negros the horse and Luzardo's temporary madness, - all of that is in the 1998 film. For me, it is definitely a redeeming feature. On the contrary, other things (present in the old film) are left out.
To the actors.
Ruth Gabriel's Marisela seems wild enough to my taste. :) Slinking by in the rushes like some big wild cat.
But she bears no family likeness with her mother at all; in fact, no two women could be more different.
Santos Luzardo does have something tough to him, contrary to the somewhat refined galán of the 1943 versuion. Both lack some lustre and charm, in my opinion. I do not know either why they thought it necessary to introduce his abandoned city fiancée into the story. I doubted the sincerity of his feelings to Marisela even without having to remember that he already cast off another girl whom he had professed to love eternally.
An interesting character is Juan Primito, a simpleton whom doña Bárbara keeps as her messenger. At first, this guy irritated me to no end. He always appeared to the sound of too loud music, jumping, cavorting and grimacing like I don't know what demon or monkey. Then I think I got it. Those bright clothes, the round rattle in his hand... why, he is that eternal Faithful Fool, always at the side of doña Bárbara, accompanying her at most important events, from Marisela's birth to that breathtaking moment at the end of the film (I will not spoil). He also remains the only constant link between the two women.
There are some lucky choices of actors for supporting characters, such as Melquiades, Antonio and Cabos Negros the horse - quite possibly, the real hero of the film. :)
The horse's beauty lends poetry to this generally prosaic film. The scenes involving Cabos Negros are tinged with sadness and a shade of fairy-tale: the wild, untamed horse, whom the experienced Melquiades fails to catch, (spoiler) comes of his own will to commiserate with Bárbara and then 'says farewell' to her. (end of spoiler) It is possible to see Cabos Negros as a dream of freedom or Nature's own embodiment.
I do not really understand horses, but I loved this one. The name of this 'actor' is Caballo Indio.
A funny thing, doña Bárbara is quite an animal lover here:
An owl, an iguana (?)... a fit company for a self-respecting witch!
And here I must come to the saddest thing of all: in my opinion, the film fails with something most important. Doña Bárbara. Esther Goris lacks something essential to really be her.
It is not entirely the fault of the actress. For instance, her voice is husky and unusual, as it is written in the book. Still, the creators of the film decided to put the accent on the heroine's sexuality, underemphasising her strength. Her force lies in her seductiveness only.
So she fancies those bright skirts and long earrings, reminiscent of some Carmen (hmmm, Si tu ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime - that's well her!)...
Spreads her skirts picturesquely over the horse's back...
Tries to seduce Luzardo and, just think, nearly succeeds.
This supple siren, to break a horse, to castrate a bull? Never. Don't even ask me to believe it.
'I use men at my convenience. I spit them out when I'm done,' Maria Felix said contemptuously in 1943, and one could believe her. In 1998, we see with our own eyes how Esther Goris' Bárbara illustrates this: satisfies her hunger and then pushes her lover rudely away. Like a 'macho'. Such scenes surely bring their point home, but are so darn straightforward. Do we need them?
It is as if the director felt they did - to attract the general viewer (and we all know what an incredible idiot this general viewer always is, crazed on s*x and violence). See the official trailer.
The character of doña Bárbara is also strangely milder... if not exactly 'milder', then maybe 'blander' is the right word. She is softer to Marisela; she even helps her at one moment. And it is unbelievable that (in order to inform the viewers) she would open her soul and babble about her first love - to whom? To Balbino Paiba, her gigolo whom she despises! By the way, that backstory of young Bárbara is quite obscure, and maybe even incomprehensible to those unfamiliar with the book. And well, I have already said that the loss of her physical force degrades her character. A pity.
Once again, the 'regionalist' novel is filmed not in Venezuela, but in Corrientes (Argentina). The cast is truly international: Goris is from Argentina, Jorge Perugorría is a Cuban actor and Ruth Gabriel is Spanish. They speak 'neutral' Spanish, though the accent occasionally breaks through here and there. The film lacks historical truth: Bárbara's and Luzardo's men look like gauchos from a tourist attraction, to use one reviewer's apt comparison. The absence of such a significant character as Mr Danger is a definite loss - but if they filmed it together with the USA folks, it might have been out of courtesy to the North Americans. :)))
Well, I can understand why the film failed of sorts, although it has its moments, such as indigenous music that permeates the whole film, occasional beautiful imagery and the composition - I loved it expecially how the film begins and ends with the image of a river (las cosas vienen al lugar de donde salieron - the phrase is never uttered, but the idea remains).
At the beginning
At the end
There was even an opera!
Doña Bárbara is an opera by Caroline Lloyd (1924-1980), with libretto by Isaac Chocrón based on the novel by Rómulo Gallegos. It premiered in 1967.
This sunny soprano, Rosita de Castillo, sang Barbarita (our heroine when young and innocent).
Doña Bárbara as she is later is, of course, a mezzo.
Morella Muñoz sang the doña.
An extract: Ramon Iriarte (baritone) sings with the mezzo-soprano Morella Muñoz in Doña Bárbara.
Unfortunately, there is no chance to listen to the whole opera online. How I wish there had been! When I go to Venezuela, I will try to look for it in secondhand CD stores (if they have such, which I doubt; and if I go there any time in my life, which I doubt still more).
Sold at Amazon here.
The inevitable telenovelas
The first telenovela, Doña Bárbara (1967) starred Lupita Ferrer, who was too young to portray the complex heroine as she should have done (so I read; sadly, this is the only source of my knowledge). The script was well-written, though, and faithful to the novel.
Lupita Ferrer
From the second one, Doña Bárbara (1975) there are some photos left. That is what I have collected from various sites:
Marina Baura as doña Bárbara
(source)
And a clip! The song tells nearly all the story. :) Thanks a lot, you wonderful guy who uploaded that!
Then there was a Cuban telenovela, Doña Bárbara (1977), about which the Internet keeps almost absolute silence, stating only that it was 'good', and that's that.
There were also telenovelas inspired by Gallegos' novel or loosely based on it. One of those is Venganza de mujer (1987), through which I accidentally discovered Doña Bárbara! (I saw a clip, and in the comments, our novel was mentioned.)
Venganza de mujer caught me by its title song - Webber's Memory in Spanish! In this clip, there is another melody, haunting and tragic. The heroine suffers a horrible experience akin to Barbarita's, and then, on becoming rich, she takes revenge on her offenders. The hero's surname is Luzardo - I guess their way to say hello to the novel. The plots are, otherwise, quite different.
The above-mentioned telenovelas are unavailable on the web. I could not watch them.
But all things must come to the point of degradation. In 2008, there appears a Columbian telenovela with the much-loved Edith Gonzalez in the title role.
If you want to see how they imagine doña Bárbara and all, go to the official site and enjoy.
I don't want to. Although I liked Edith Gonzalez well enough when I was a child and I admit she does her best to act well within the script, she is so - not - doña Bárbara! Not only in her appearance (how can that fragile blonde ever tame a bull?), but in her largely changed character, which is the fault of the over-romantic script-writer. Briefly, she turns from a phenomenal (if wicked) woman into just another sexy bitch.
Of course it is possible to read Doña Bárbara as a mere melodrama, and people are free to do it. :(
Orinoco the musical
The dances, all that 'mixture of joropo and flamenco', must be wonderful to watch. But I confess some visual imagery makes my skin crawl.
I like only Marisela:
They love this novel so much! They even have erected monuments to the female protagonists of the book.
Monument to Marisela, in the state Apure
It was erected in 1989. The inscription at her feet reads: "A Marisela rescatada de la barbarie por la virtud del Amor y la voluntad civilizadora" (To Marisela, saved from barbarity by the virtue of Love and the will of civilisation).
Monument to doña Bárbara, also in Apure
So, you see, it is a great world, that of Doña Bárbara.