History was a lot more violent and vicious than our high school classes would have led us to believe. The brutal and twisted nature of the past has rarely been better explored than in Nelson Pereira Dos Santos’ sordid and perverted dark comedy, How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman (Portuguese: Como Era Gostoso o Meu Francês). A film that approaches issues of international relations through the guise of cultural taboos, it is nothing short of an unforgettably strange film, an absurd journey into colonial Brazil that alternates between being magnificently hilarious and shockingly terrifying. How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman is certainly not a film for the faint of heart, and it is the epitome of abstract arthouse cinema, featuring some of the most audacious factual filmmaking I have ever seen. Perhaps it isn’t the masterpiece that it seems to aspire to be, and far from being the cult hit that some have suggested it to be, How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman is an effective dark comedy and one that I simply cannot get off my mind, for better or for worse.

The story of How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman is evident from the title (and allegedly based on true events). It is set in 16th-century Brazil during the violent and tumultuous era of colonial occupation by the Europeans, where the Tupinambás, who are allied with the French, are engaged in a bitter feud with the neighboring Tupiniquins, who are allies of the Portuguese. When an unnamed Frenchman (Arduíno Colassanti) arrives on the tribe’s proverbial doorstep, they refuse to believe that he is French, convinced that he is Portuguese, denying his attempts to justify his prior presence with the Portuguese as being the result of being taken, hostage. The tribe determines that they are destined to use him in a sacred ritual – they plan to eat him, fulfilling a war-time prophecy relating to the tribe’s chief and his slain brother. The Frenchman slowly starts to adapt to the life with the Tupinambás, assimilating into their culture and starting to engage with their customs and traditions, seemingly becoming a part of their tribe himself, even being given a wife (Ana Maria Magalhães), and freedom to roam to his heart’s content – yet it never occurs to him to try to escape. The lines between underdoing radical culture shock and being a slave with a very grisly destiny start to blur for our protagonist, who does his best to convince his captors that he is their ally, not their next meal – but to no avail, as the film’s obvious (but unsettling) climax will lay testament.

In all honesty, How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman is an unbelievably strange film and one that did come very close to upsetting me considerably. Part of this was due to the performances, which may not have been particularly groundbreaking, but had a certain quality that made them quite disconcerting. The two central performances from Ana Maria Magalhães and Arduíno Colassanti were excellent, and despite not being particularly innovative, they were impressive in the context of the film, with their performances contributing massively to the film, not being standout elements, but rather reliable constituents of a film that manages to derive sheer terror and twisted humor from some extremely dark situations. The two actors play off each other well, as well as with the cast as a whole, which should be given kudos. How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman has a large cast of mainly non-speaking roles, but the ensemble does very well in conveying the nature of the period – and considering the historically-accurate approach this film took required most of these actors to wear very little, they do deserve some praise for their commitments. Yet, I seriously doubt anyone watches How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman and comes out focused solely on the acting because this film is far more than just that – and I’m not quite sure if that is a particularly good thing or not.

I am extremely divided as to whether How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman is a great film or a complete disaster. The key to this lies in the fact that Dos Santos grapples the fine line between making a film that is authentic and resonant and a film that is exploitative, explicit and unnecessarily dark. Part of this required research into how this film was perceived over the years, and while I am not sure how likely it is to garner an opinion from a native Tupinambá tribesman, the general consensus is that despite its shocking imagery and sometimes unethical portrayal of the relationship between the natives and the colonizers, it is actually far more positive in its representation than one would think. Certainly not the pinnacle of nationalist Brazilian cinema, it does occupy a niche position as a suitably shocking, but still oddly admirable piece of historical filmmaking, and one that looks at a subject through a subversive lens, showing disdain for the people who normally occupy the role as protagonists, who are repurposed as the malicious villains or idiotic victims presented throughout the film. If one categorizes this as more of a social satire, rather than a historical artifact, then its originality becomes clear. In many ways, I would call  How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman a highly-critical social commentary with wide-reaching contemporary resonance, a film that manages to look at a period in a way that is almost entirely unique for this kind of film, and while it may not be as pleasant a film as it could have been, its unbridled power as a social satire is remarkable.

How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman is a very unsettling film, but it is an anomaly. It is undeniably an absurd, strange work, but one that goes about it in a way that is almost paradoxical: it engages with the audience and challenges them to see these events as being nothing but the truth. Of all the praise I have encountered about this film, as well as from my own experience in watching it, How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman is most distinctive because of its relentless dedication to presenting the period as genuinely as possible. Dos Santos employs a documentary-style approach to making this film, refraining from any traditional cinematic intervention, relying on natural light and historically-accurate settings and costumes (not that either required much work) to transport the audience back to the period, and it is a resounding success. One finds themselves being captivated by the film, and it captures your attention and puts you in the center of this era.

This brutally realistic approach is exactly why How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman is so absurd: it becomes disturbing, unsettling and the idiosyncrasies of the story start to become overwhelming. One just needs to look at the early films of someone like Werner Herzog to understand the narrative technique I’m referring to here. How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman is not surreal because it presents a strange, twisted story, but rather because it represents cultural taboos such as large-scale societal nudity and cannibalism not as something grotesque or brutal, but as entirely normal. To its merit, How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman never depicts these natives as barbaric or uncivilised (in fact, the dedication to capturing the indigenous languages as well as the complex social order contributes to the more affectionate approach taken by Dos Santos to telling this story), and there is a certain sensitivity brought to this film that I have yet to see represented quite as fondly as it was here. The simplicity of execution benefited this film exceptionally well, and I highly doubt a more polished, extravagant production would have resulted in a film nearly as effective as this.

I am not entirely sure how I felt about How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman, and by the end of it, I was in a frenzy of confusion and muted horror. This is not a comfortable film, and there are some moments that are excessively gruesome. Yet, I cannot stop thinking about this film. I found it to be a masterful piece of satire, doing something that many satirists often have taken for granted: subverting expectations. It is not often that one encounters a colonial comedy, and while this film is more darkly absurd than it is funny, there is a gentle humor present throughout this film that doesn’t intend to make the audience laugh, but rather to challenge their perceptions of reality. It takes a unique stance in utilizing taboo concepts in order to make a scathing indictment on capitalism, imperialism and the effects of multiculturalism, albeit in a way that is quite bizarre but no less disquieting and effective. It is quite an experience and something that every audience member will need to work through on their own terms. Highly original, innovative and quite compelling, How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman is unlike anything you have ever seen, or will ever see.