This is in no way to belittle Servilio Holanda's performance - for the man twitches, delivers wet sneezes, wobbles his jowls, defecates, and bounds across the stage with such canine conviction, that when he disappears momentarily, it is
faintly surprising that he does not re-emerge covered in fur. It is an extraordinarily authentic comic turn, which celebrates the clownish physical translation of the original Portuguese far more successfully than the two cousins' circular moanings about their conflicting love for a woman (Luiza) who ran off with a cowboy.
Perhaps Guimaraes Rosa's poetry would bring more substance to the cousins' frenzied attempts to recreate Luiza in words, and hence more potency to the metaphor that malaria is also a woman waiting to leech them of life. His novel, The Devil to Pay in the Backlands, was voted last year to be one of the world's 100 best works of fiction (by 100 noted writers from 54 countries), but while this ambitious piece of theatre certainly evokes an other-worldly rustic spirit, it lacks the nuance to make it totally satisfying.
Fire provides the significant theatrical magic, bringing a demonic, feverish aspect to Luiz Carolos Vasconcelos's earthy, rural design. It unwittingly symbolises the frustratingly elliptical charms of a production where the ultimate poetic impact lies buried in ashes.
