Sunday in Brazil, a Televisual Feast

Brasilian TV

While free to air television in Brazil has yet to descend to the murky depths of Italian TV, it must be close. There are three types of programmes here. Football, Telenovelas and general muck. A quick flick across the channels of a Sunday lunchtime brings up the following:

TV RECORD - Tudo é Possível has a show about Japanese men riding pigs rodeo style, and a monkey dressed up in a shirt and tie being ‘tricked’ by smarter (just) Japanese lad into pouring a cup of orange over its head. Monkey see monkey don’t do, ‘cos monkey has seen that man has poured orange juice into the glass he is being asked to pour over himself. But the joke is on the monkey, because the glass is actually just full of torn up paper. And when it is overturned on the monkey he flinches. Hilarious.

Next up two people put tights over their heads and walk in opposite directions. A sort of ‘tights of war’ scenario. The two protagonists stagger about eight metres apart before the tights rip in half. We are treated to slow motion replays of their contorted faces, which resembled my face before I saw the surrounding 20 bikini clad girls shimmying in a semi circle at the back. Occasionally the camera lingers a little too long. But can you blame the cameramen if the only other shot is of two adults pulling apart a pair of tights with only their heads? Next.

GLOBO - An in-depth documentary about how some trees resemble some animals. Flick.

TV CULTURA - How many bearded men in swimsuits can you fit in a kiosk filled with water and a gorgeous model in a bikini? Keep watching and find out. Nah.

BAND - We have analysis on Brazil’s new manager, Mano Menezes by a sexy young thing in jeans so tight that if they aren’t painted on then she has definitely had some internal organs removed for the duration of the show. She is certain he will do well. I’m convinced. Midway through the analysis is morphed into an ad about shoes. It has the same people in that were just discussing the new appointment and spinning new shoes appear on the screen. Before this can be digested new images appear of old footballers and what they look like now. Remember Bruno Potato, the telly says, well this is what he looks like now. He has no neck. Right. This is followed up by a goal from a 1995 meeting of Botafogo v Fluminense. The spinning shoes are now back and I’m not sure if when they mention quality and flair they are talking about are shoes or the manager. I go on.

SBT - Do Mundo Brasil - Here we are treated to a show of the top 10 internet moments of the week. A man in an office flicks something at another man across the table, who reacts by leaping onto the table and stumbling across over the monitor, launching himself onto his tormentor and thrashing him about the head with his keyboard.

But before you can stop giggling, some supple skinned goon with a mic is on his way into a Sao Paulo favela to meet the enormous Sonia and improve her life by buying her things. This is a weekly ritual amongst the Sunday family shows. It allows the poor to think that one day they can aspire to live like the rich, and the rich to feel that they have a social conscience. But really its just one big TV ad for local hardware & electric shops dressed up as empathy, by cunts.

They go into her bathroom. We’re told it is very small and has ‘muitos problemas’. Sonia must be delighted with herself for contacting the show about her problematic bathroom. In a Rockyesque montage, Sonia is brought to a shop and shown a catalogue of different coloured houses. She goes for orange. The neighbourhood gets busy baking cakes and slicing olives while Sonia and her jumbo sons relax in a country house with a pool. We see her two love balls taking shots at each other, which is pointless as they both entirely cover their goals. You get the impression this was the producer's idea. The sons are not impressed. You can almost smell the BBQ they’ve been prised away from, probably at knifepoint.

Mum's personal life is dealt with in depth. She has a passion for some crooners called Leandro & Leonardo - I'm pretty sure I've heard this tune before somewhere... She wept when they took the numerous framed photos of the duo down off her bedroom wall. The poor woman is in shock, so much so that she allows a sinister looking bald man to apply some Maxton (the dye of the stars) to her head before agreeing to be flown to the northeast. Two seats are booked for our heroine. Next time we see her she is showering an uncomfortable Leonardo (who judging by his outfit, needs the cash from this job) with love bites by a swimming pool. We are not told how the night progresses, but Sonia seems to have forgotten her problematic bathroom for the time being.

Helicoptered from the airport to a field near her street, a golf cart ferries her up the gentle slope to her spanking new orange palace. She waddles up to the house which is now covered by a huge blue sheet with a yellow bow. The parade in her honour, resplendent with marching band, dancers and locals with spaghetti hats passes her by. A crane waits patiently to unveil the house. The neighbourhood crowd are going mental like they’ve no idea what the house looks like. The countdown begins. 10! 9! 8!....but wait what’s this?

...The bastards have cut back to the studio to show a quick documentary about a factory that makes washing machines and kitchens that dwarf Sonia’s new orange house. You suspect the presenter has had his gaff kitted out by this crowd. The audience applaud this fabulous factory and everyone is in a draw for a dishwasher. Lovely. Gaybo would be proud.

And we are back. The drape is lifted. Sonia cries. Three models dance outside the house while Sonia is interviewed. She really wants to go in but they won’t let her yet. More speechless crying is needed to complete the tear quota for the show. Heads are sure to roll at SBT if one of the similar rival shows out jerks them in the tear stakes. While she composes herself the camera zooms in and out on the salmon** house from different angles.

The turnaround is astonishing. The house understands Portuguese. When Jumboson says ‘telephone’, it rings! And best of all, forevermore, whenever the word ‘music’ is uttered, Leandro & Leonardo begin to croon. It remains to be seen whether they will do a follow-up show to see if this HALesque house has taken control. At the risk of crass a generalisation, I predict a long drawn out struggle punctuated by extreme lethargy on both sides.

The problematic bathroom has been transformed and the last we see of Sonia is her pounding across the tiles to give the shower head a kiss or perhaps herself a well deserved hose down after the previous nights exertions with the Leandro-less Leonardo.

For some reason Kaká’s churches TV station has disappeared so I’m off to fix some lunch before the Santos v Sao Paulo game.


* Downtime for the dancing girls. They aren't a patch on the Irish version mind.

** The presenter is appalled by the garish colour of the house and can't bring himself to call it orange.