Reflections on Mysteries of Lisbon

Yesterday, I found a film called The Mysteries of Lisbon. Directed by the esteemed Chilean filmmaker Raúl Ruiz, it came out in 2010 but is based on a novel by 19th-century Portuguese writer Camilo Castelo Branco. The film truly took me away. It’s strange—one of those stories where you’re never quite sure where you’re being led, but you want to follow.

The idea behind it is unique, though not entirely unfamiliar. Much of the Portuguese literature I’ve read, especially the works of Eça de Queiróz, is filled with twists and turns—mystery, romance, and a blend of France and Portugal in the 19th century. This film carries a similar spirit, but its storytelling is especially impressive. I watched it a second time last night and decided I need to buy it. I had only rented it, thinking, “Let’s see what this is.”

The story follows an abandoned child, whose journey into adulthood is guided by an unassuming priest—a man whose own origins are mysterious. The plot unfolds like a picture puzzle, almost like a 19th-century storyboard, set during a time of complex rules about family, inheritance, and social standing. By the end, you’re left wondering: was it real? Or a dream?

The cinematography is simple and beautiful, evocative of the era. But it’s not just the photography—it’s the vision. The way the story is structured and visually composed speaks to the director’s imagination. At one point, the boy is gifted a puzzle by his mother, and it becomes a kind of symbolic storyboard, hinting at what may come.

Many scenes show private coaches drawn by horses, gliding through a sparse and lovely countryside—especially along the unadorned road from Lisbon to Santarém. That road, clean and open, felt almost symbolic of the character’s mission. Other scenes take place at lavish parties, filled with gossip, intrigue, and treachery.

The acting is beautiful. The story is a brain twister. The entire experience felt magical to me. I loved it.

If you’re patient—and if you enjoy being swept into a slow, mysterious tale—this might be a film you’ll treasure too.

Lately, my literary and cinematic interests have leaned more and more toward Portugal. I’ve long been fascinated by the Napoleonic period through to the World Wars in Europe, which we still call “modern” history, though it now feels quite far away. And of course, my admiration for the celebrated Portuguese poet of many voices Fernando Pessoa continues to shape what I notice and what draws me in.
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