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Desire is a volatile property with powers beyond our wildest imaginings. And always that damned arrangement of blue cloth and gold insignias is at the eye of the hurricane. Then again, in We Are on Air all life unfolds with a certain oneiric quality. Before showing us the man driving, Amarante puts us in his shoes, exposing a POV of divided attention.
Condensation and rainwater diffuse the image, they smudge both road and desiring body into a moving watercolor, perchance a starfield of shattered suns. In a convention-breaking gesture Amarante even includes the swipe of a hand over the lens, trying to clear up the image before giving up and giving in to the odd visual register.
Unable to have his twink for the night, the man finds solace in the company of a trucker who offers him a bed. Even as the body is satisfied with a man, the mind desires another. If anything, his camerawork and staging are more Lubitschian.
The reoccurrence of mirrors and reflections calls attention to the work one puts in presenting oneself to outside eyes, the duplicity of appearances that more clearly reveal who we want to be than who we are. At the same time, the plethora of reflections can multiply grief-stricken faces, confronting one with their own dissatisfaction. In a family drowning in horny frustration, such revelations can be too painful to bear. Indeed, as the gorgeous but socially awkward thirty-something, Carloto Cotta delivers what is probably his best performance to date.
