• Despararon al Pianista (They Shot the Piano Player)

4/20/25 (Sun)

A highly inventive documentary of 2023 about the strange disappearance of a seminal figure in the creation of bossa nova in the 1970s during a tour in Buenos Aires. The unique feature is that the film is animated: that doesn’t mean monsters or magic or talking animals or such, but a rendering of reality in animated style, as if they filmed the movie first and drew on top of it. On top of that, it is entirely hand-drawn and vividly colored, giving it a distinctive look and feel.

Fernando Trueba, who wrote the film and co-directed with Javier Mariscal (their animated Chico Y Rita was a hit some years ago), had become intrigued in the story decades earlier. He was taken by the playing of pianist Tenório Jr, a key figure in the early days of bossa nova, but discovered to his surprise that the musician had only made a single record as band leader. He learned that the 24-year-old musician suddenly vanished one night after leaving his hotel in Buenos Aires when his mistress sent him out to get a sandwich. Disappearances were not unheard of in Argentina during the years of military rule, but Tenório was an apolitical musician and a foreigner at that. No trace of the musician ever emerged, and his fate remained unknown. Trueba made it his mission to get to the bottom of it. He interviewed hundreds of people over the course of nearly two decades who knew or worked with the pianist. The interviewees on screen include a veritable Who’s Who of Brazilian music – Milton Nascimento, Gilberto Gil, Caetono Veloso, Vinicius de Moraes, Toquinho – along with the pianist’s wife (never recognized as his widow since his death was never confirmed), his mistress and companion that fateful night (understandably reluctant to talk at first), a kiosk worker that night who had spotted a telltale government car, friends, acquaintances, musicians, and a number of others, with dozens more acknowledged in the credits. The director decided at some point to present them in illustrated but completely recognizable form, distinguishing this from a standard documentary.

The film proceeds as a mystery of sorts, laying out clues in a Citizen Kane way as various people offer their perspectives. Rather than depict himself, Trueba has invented a New York music journalist, played by a well-chosen Jeff Goldblum (in real life an impressive amateur jazz pianist himself), who similarly discovers Tenório Jr on a recording and determines to find out what happened.

The film supplements that mystery with a history of the Rio musical scene, South American politics, and more. In one early scene, it shows Ella Fitzgerald slipping away after her Copacabana concert to Rio’s legendary Bottle Alley (Beco das Garrafas), where bossa nova was in the process of being born. She whips off her shoes and jumps on the bandstand, scatting away as to the manner born – how I would have loved to have been there on that (probably fictional) night. The bright colors and movements of the crowd, like a Fauvist painting come to life, felt more real than any live image would have been. Best of all was a recreation of the pianist’s sole recording as a leader: the other five members in the session are shown in varying colors and shades that hop out of the lines, as if they can barely be contained within the confines of reality. It’s effectively a visual depiction of jazz.

The journalist eventually gains access to the former torture chambers of the Argentine military government and confirms that the musician was shot to death. It’s not entirely clear why he was kidnapped in the first place; he was a foreigner in town only to play music. The film speculates that it was a case of mistaken identity and that he was killed anyway to prevent him talking about what he had seen. I was not familiar with Operation Condor, the system of oppression run by the US-backed Latin American dictatorships at the time that involved kidnappings, assassinations and brutal repression of perceived dissent. That would make it difficult for Brazil to complain about the murder of one of its citizens, since it could expose its own terrorist acts. The unassuming Tenório Jr was an unfortunate victim of the era’s paranoia.

The interviewees do repeat themselves, and no one has a bad word to say about the pianist, who comes off unrealistically as something of an angel (if a rather eccentric one). We get the idea long before it’s over. Still, the animation is so incredible that it’s a joy to watch, with a never-ending wealth of background details – a dog casually passing through, shelves of books in NY’s Strand Bookstore, paintings on the wall. Some critics mention clues to Brazil’s culture of the day buried in the animation, but those passed me by. Nascimento suggests interestingly that bossa nova was inspired by the French New Wave (bossa nova itself means “new wave”), an observation underlined by recreations of iconic scenes from Breathless, Jules & Jim and The 400 Blows – the film’s title itself is a Trauffaut reference. Another influence mentioned is Chet Baker, who makes a winking appearance. The dazzling animation itself, characterized by strong lines and an offbeat color palette, feels like a new wave, certainly distinct from Disney or Ghibli or other predecessors. Goldblum maintains a reassuringly even tone that keeps the drama from overheating, and Tony Ramos is great as his coordinator in Brazil.

While the redundancies could have been trimmed story-wise, the film was a great ride, not least the wonderful score. Strongly recommended, especially on the big screen.