In her thriller-like dive into the secret community of baloeiros, the Brazilian men who illegally build giant hot-air balloons, Danish director Sissel Morell Dargis provides a rare female perspective on this macho world which, as its deeply committed members proclaim, offers an alternative to joining the drug cartels.
We only need three extra letters to translate the title of this Danish-Spanish co-production, set in Brazil and therefore spoken in Portuguese, into English: Balloonmania.
And if, like me, you’ve never heard of the Brazilian clandestine community of homemade hot-air balloon enthusiasts, who are persecuted as criminals, celebrated as folk heroes and almost impenetrable to outsiders, you’re in luck: Sissel Morell Dargis’ debut documentary feature offers a thriller-like entry into the mysterious world of these baloeiros.
And even if you have heard of them, it’s apparently so hard to get access (a keyword for the documentary genre) to these groups, that Balomania represents a rare opportunity to know more.
So, what is this secret community all about? First of all, it has been around for a long time. The tradition dates back to colonial Catholic missionaries, but has become more of a folk phenomenon since the 1960s – the often poor baloeiros, living in the favelas, proudly cherish it as their cultural heritage, an identity passed down from father to son. Second, it’s huge: there are an estimated two to three million Brazilians involved with this subculture, in one way or another. And third, the hot-air balloons themselves are also huge – handmade from silk paper, brightly decorated, fire-powered and unmanned, these glorious contraptions are often dozens of metres high; they can look like buildings floating in the sky.
It must be exhilarating to see your creation – and a large one can take years to make, in secret workshops which have to be kept hidden from the authorities – finally rise into the air. And to then see it floating high above São Paolo or Rio de Janeiro, for all to see, far and wide.
I mentioned ‘fire’ – it’s the main reason why in 1998 the authorities banned the practice, citing dangers to planes, homes and bystanders. This is something which Dargis – who spent months trying to gain access before finally catching a break – does not dwell on. Yes, she mentions that it’s ‘dangerous’, but we never get to hear if and how often fires indeed cause damage. When we see a balloon take off in a forested area, carrying a large amount of fireworks which explode in the air, spewing burning debris all over the place – it doesn’t seem far-fetched that this could potentially result in devastating forest fires. Indeed, this is what the Brazilian police has claimed has already happened. Which, if true, makes the prosecution of these groups seem a little less exaggerated.
There is another question which Dargis doesn’t address: why do these men allow themselves to be filmed during their illegal activities? It could be something like a promotional, even political stunt, as they take the opportunity to argue that the balloon gangs offer men an alternative to the drug cartels – which cynically enough provided the authorities with their model for prosecution. At the same time, I can’t help feeling that the cat-and-mouse game with the police is actually one of the attractions for some members of this underground subculture.
It could also be a matter of male ego and pride. Indeed, in the press notes Dargis (who had previously released the indie game ‘Cai Cai Balao,’ which also featured Brazil’s secret balloon makers) writes that the ‘Godfather’, who presents himself to the camera as a lovable old grandpa, is in reality a cold and strict leader, instructing everyone to be on their best behaviour whenever Dargis’ camera was rolling. So we have to consider that what we are seeing here is not just what the director wanted to report, but partly a romanticised image her subjects were allowing her to register.
Dargis, a young Danish woman with a mixed Spanish-Lithuanian background, is an odd person to break into this closed male community. And maybe that’s precisely the reason that she got as far as she did. She shows us the exhilaration and the beauty; the contrast between these moments of triumph (and defeat, when a huge balloon burns up just moments after being launched) and the dreary, sometimes bleak everyday life; and the impact this all-consuming hobby can have on these men’s private lives, straining relationships, creating animosity between groups and costing a lot of money – who exactly the ‘sponsors’ are who are expected to finance one major project is another question which Balomania leaves unanswered.
It’s a man’s world, Brazilian ballooning. The few women I spotted among the huge artworks that decorate these balloons were scantily clad dancers and the Virgin Mary. The many more men who received this honour include macho role models such as Rocky, Superman and even the Portuguese colonial ‘discoverer’ of Brazil, Pedro Álvares Cabral. But maybe it’s precisely this male competitiveness and macho brotherhood which makes ballooning an attractive alternative for men who might otherwise be lured into drug gangs, as a number of baloeiros claim.
Balomania starts to drag a little after the one-hour mark, but succeeds as an insider view of a mysterious world – a man’s world uncovered by a female director, who audibly shares the excited mania of her subjects as she watches the majestic balloons rise up into the heavens.
Denmark/Spain, 2024, 93 minutes
Director Sissel Morell Dargis
Production House of Real
Producers Jesper Jack, Marie Schmidt Olesen
International sales houseofreal.net
Cinematography Sissel Morell Dargis
Editing Biel Andrés, Rikke Selin, Isabela Monteiro de Castro, Steen Johannessen, Sissel Morell Dargis
Sound design Carlos García, Miguel Villada, Ezequiel Pinedo Leon
Sound Victor Quintanilha
Music Aquiles Ghirelli, O Novissimo Edgar
With Sissel, Jaba, Sergio, Zulu, Ton
