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The National
20-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The National
Mark Brown: Portugal's Festival de Almada offers warning from history
As the anticipation grows, it can be easy to forget that, elsewhere, the summer festival season is already in full swing. Here in Portugal, theatre lovers descend every July on the city of Almada. Sitting under the huge statue of Cristo Rei (Christ the King), this former industrial town boasts, in Festival de Almada, Portugal's leading showcase of international and Portuguese theatre. Over the last 17 years, I have had the great privilege of attending most editions of this remarkable festival which is staged mainly in Almada, but also in venues across the River Tagus in the Portuguese capital, Lisbon. Created in 1984 by the late, visionary theatre director Joaquim Benite, the festival has been guided expertly (since Benite's death in 2012) by his chosen successor, Rodrigo Francisco. The festival manages to be simultaneously impressive (both in its scale and in the quality of the artists it presents), yet also unpretentious and welcoming (to local and visiting guests alike). One of its excellent, democratic traditions is that the audience votes for its favourite production of the programme, which, in turn, is invited to return to the festival the following year. I will not be surprised if the audience's choice from the 2025 showcase (which came to a close on Friday) is A Colónia (The Colony) by the innovative Portuguese theatremaker Marco Martins. Although this year's programme included esteemed work from France, Italy, Spain and Germany, this homegrown production (which was first performed last year, for the 50th anniversary of the Portuguese Revolution) has a number of features that set it apart. The piece, which is based upon an investigation by journalist Joana Pereira Bastos, draws on the testimonies of anti-fascist resistance fighters (mainly members of Portuguese Communist Party) who were imprisoned and tortured under the fascist dictatorship of António de Oliveira Salazar and his successor Marcello Caetano. It draws strongly, too, on the accounts of children of political prisoners who received some respite from their trauma and isolation at a children's summer camp known as The Colony. The fascist Estado Novo (New State) tyrannised over the Portuguese people from 1933 until it was overthrown by the Revolution of April 25, 1974. Martins's production – which was presented as part of Festival de Almada in the beautifully appointed theatre of Culturgest in the centre of Lisbon – combines testimony by survivors of the regime with scenes played by both professional actors and teenage theatre performers. The show opens with testimony by a very elderly couple – Conceição Matos and Domingos Abrantes – who survived lengthy periods of incarceration and unspeakable torture at the hands of the regime's reviled secret police, the PIDE. It includes, too, the accounts of people who attended The Colony in 1972 and '73, such as Manuela Canais Rocha and Humberto Candeias. Added to these firsthand testimonies are dramatised scenes based upon diaries and historical research. We hear the memories of children whose young lives were spent in such isolation and secrecy that they had no encounters with other kids. There are also harrowing accounts of torture and inspiring memories of prisoners' loved ones building bonfires on the beach outside the Paniche Prison so that the incarcerated resistance fighters could see that their families were there. Brought together with an often stirring and atmospheric score of live and recorded music and moments in which the young performers reflect on what the word 'freedom' means to them, Martins's work – which combines documentary theatre, verbatim theatre, dramatised memoir and devised performance – packs a powerful punch, in both political and emotional terms. In aesthetic terms, it isn't perfect by any means. At two hours and 15 minutes, it is too long by about half an hour. A lack of momentum and dramaturgical rigour means the piece doesn't always sustain the power of its subject as it should. THE young performers' early statements about personal and political liberty are the closest the production comes to an expression of any real kind of agency on the part of the kids themselves: for the most part, the youngsters are present on-stage, but without very much meaningful to do or say. These shortcomings aside, however, this ambitious theatre work stands as a memorable and emotive testament to the courage of those who resisted the fascist regime in Portugal. It stands, too, as a stark warning in a world where far-right forces (including the pernicious Chega in Portugal and the equally obnoxious Reform UK in the nations of the British state) are on the rise. Interestingly, a few nights earlier in the festival, the Nome Próprio company of Porto presented a dance work that also speaks to the very real threat to Portugal's democratic freedoms. Played in the outdoor theatre of the Escola D. António da Costa in Almada, the piece – which was created by choreographer Victor Hugo Pontes, and the title of which translates as Something Is About To Happen – is performed by a company of dancers who are entirely naked throughout. The work ranges from sections that seem to evoke the primordial and animal origins of humanity, to images of dystopia, and on to reflections on humanity's capacities for carnality and physical affection. The company is strong and boasts some really exceptional dancers. However, the choreography is frustratingly varied, in quality as well as style. Although the piece is only 70 minutes long, it has at least two false endings. Its ultimate conclusion – in which the entire company of dancers sings Queen's soft rock anthem I Want To Break Free – is neither subtle nor particularly affecting. Nevertheless, in the times in which we live, one finds oneself greatly encouraged to see such a bold expression of artistic and physical freedom. The Festival's extensive international programme included Marius by Compagnie Louis Brouillard from Paris. The play is adapted from Marcel Pagnol's 1929 drama, in which the titular Marius, who works in his father's café in Marseille, is torn between his love for his childhood friend Fanny and his desire to sail the seven seas. Relocated to the present day, director-adapter Joël Pommerat's production combines professional actors with former convicts he encountered while conducting theatre in prison projects. The outcome is a play that introduces elements of organised crime – and a degree of menace and foreboding – that distinguish the adaptation both from Pagnol's romantic stage drama and Alexander Korda's 1931 film version. Another international highlight was Teatro Delusio by acclaimed German mask theatre company Familie Flöz. Many Edinburgh Fringe-goers will have fond memories of the Berlin-based company, whose work is characterised by brilliant, hyper-real masks and wonderfully expressive physical performance. Teatro Delusio is a beautifully conceived drama set backstage in a theatre. Three astonishing performers play an extraordinary panoply of characters, ranging from a lovelorn stage manager to the gloriously self-regarding leading lady of an opera company. As ever with Familie Flöz, the piece overflows with theatrical ingenuity, slapstick humour and genuine pathos. Festival de Almada may be celebrating its 42nd edition, but it is still as fresh and vibrant as it was in 1984 when Joaquim Benite staged his first programme.
Yahoo
09-04-2025
- Business
- Yahoo
My grandfather grew up under a dictatorship. The lessons he passed on helped me achieve financial success.
My grandfather's mindset about ownership left a lasting mark on me. He believed ownership was about freedom. He saved diligently and prioritized security over luxury. My goal is to own enough so I never feel like another holds the keys to my freedom. I've succeeded. My grandfather was born and spent his young adult life under Portugal's Estado Novo dictatorship, which ended in 1974. He saw firsthand how financial insecurity could be used as a weapon — loans denied, costs inflated, and livelihoods threatened based on arbitrary labels of unreliability, like involvement in union organizing. For him, ownership wasn't just about accumulating assets; it was about gaining a sense of freedom and security in an otherwise authoritarian environment. His mindset about ownership left a lasting mark on me and governed how I've approached my career and finances my whole life. From the time I was a young boy, my grandfather would stress the importance of not being owned and being your own master. He lived by this principle, working tirelessly and being prudent in his spending. Thanks to those lessons, I welcomed my newborn son into the world without financial anxiety. My grandfather saved diligently throughout his life. Family vacations were rare and always on a tight budget. He only allowed expensive food like cheese, red meat, and olives during Christmas. He launched multiple businesses in port operations and financial services, ventures that remain in our family. He invested in financial markets, real estate, and his cherished coins and stamps while spending most of his life debt-free. His daughter — my mother — received the same lessons growing up. After the dictatorship ended, while many of her peers were taking advantage of cheap credit to buy new cars and other status symbols, she taught me one of my first finance lessons: A car is a mobility solution. If I can buy a car for $10,000 and I choose a $20,000 model, I'm not just buying transportation — I'm spending $10,000 on a luxury upgrade. She wasn't telling me this was a dumb purchase. She was giving me a crucial sense of perspective that I've kept with me ever since. When I was old enough, I left Madeira Island and traveled all over Portugal for the next eight years but always with the goal of making it back home. I started my business career while traveling in Portugal. Like my grandfather, I've launched multiple businesses to build wealth and increase my future freedom in Portugal. Some of those ventures — like the tutoring program and tourist activities businesses — flopped. Others are holding strong, like my consultancy and real estate businesses. While getting into the startup business can be risky, I always approached my ventures with limited risk exposure in mind. When borrowing funds, I did it in controlled amounts. I used credit lines for young investors that required no personal guarantees and could only claim the funds my business partners and I had already committed to the business. I've never had credit card debt or taken out a car loan. Up until last year, my only debt was my home mortgage, but I decided to pay my 30-year mortgage off early. Shortly after returning home to Madeira in 2016, my wife and I bought our first house. Eager to start a place of our own and start building our life, we moved quickly — completing the entire process of buying, restoring, and moving in within just six months of returning to the island. The lesson my grandfather valued and repeated the most was that you should own your home outright. To him, a house wasn't just a place to live — it was a shield against uncertainty, a guarantee that no matter what happened, his family would always have a roof over their heads. He worked hard and saved relentlessly to buy his home. He prioritized security over luxury. And because of his influence, it became my priority, too. Yes, if I had chosen to invest instead of aggressively paying off my mortgage in seven years, my net worth might be higher. However, owning my home outright has given me something far more valuable: the feeling of freedom and accomplishment. Deciding to rent or keep a mortgage was often framed to me as a way to maximize financial performance through time — an Excel problem to be solved. However, my home means more than just numbers on a spreadsheet. At this stage in my life, I am debt-free, which gives me the flexibility to combine my funds with strategic borrowing to invest in worthwhile opportunities. More importantly, I have the peace of mind to raise my newborn son without financial stress. My goal has been to build a life where I have enough to own what I call mine, and enough to never feel like someone else holds the keys to my freedom. I have been able to return from mainland Portugal to my home island, live unburdened by debt, travel frequently with my family, pick up new hobbies, and choose my career path based on passion rather than financial reward. Time has shown that this was the right decision for my family. Owning my freedom — financially and personally — has been worth more than any investment return. Read the original article on Business Insider
Euronews
06-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Euronews
Carnival revelry, matrafonas and 50 years of freedom in Torres Vedras
The theme of Portugal's most popular carnival this year was the 50th anniversary of the Carnation Revolution. But was it a fitting celebration of freedom? ADVERTISEMENT For some, it's the most wonderful time of the year. You can be whoever you want - an astronaut, police officer, superhero, adventure film character - or even a member of the opposite sex - without anyone sneering at you. Because, as we all know, everything is allowed at Carnival. It's a centuries-old tradition, especially in Catholic countries, that in the days leading up to the start of Lent we can let loose. In Torres Vedras, a city of around 28,000 inhabitants less than an hour from the Portuguese capital Lisbon, the tradition dates back to the 16th century. But Carnival only began to be officially celebrated from 1923, and today, just over 100 years later, it is the most popular in the country. This fame is mainly due to its particularity. While Brazilian-inspired Carnivals are all over Portugal, the Torres Vedras Carnival has remained true to its very Portuguese roots. In 1924, a year after the first King of Carnival was elected, it was decided that a Queen would also be elected - and that this Queen would also be a man. Since then, the matrafonas - men dressed as women in a crude and hilarious way - have become the centrepiece of this celebration. Cross-dressing culture 'Matrafonas' are central figures in the Torres Vedras Carnival Ricardo Figueira/Euronews "Everyone knows the Torres Vedras Carnival as a special Carnival, which has nothing to do with the Brazilian parades or all those imports," Laura Rodrigues, the mayor of Torres Vedras, told Euronews. "This is a Carnival that comes from the rural roots of Entrudo." This year the organisers decided, after a vote on social media, to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the revolution of 25 April 1974 - after all, a defining celebration of freedom. The figures evoking this historic episode were a constant in the organised groups of masked people who paraded in the "corso trapalhão" on Saturday night and paraded again on Tuesday along with the floats. "At first, we were afraid it would be a difficult theme to deal with in terms of masks," says Laura Rodrigues. "Then we saw that the most diverse and creative masks were made, from the blue pencil (representing the censorship that existed during the Estado Novo) to doves and cages. I'm glad this theme was chosen, because it's another way of reaffirming the importance of 25 April in our lives and the freedom we've come to have - some of which wouldn't be visible at this Carnival if 25 April hadn't existed," adds the mayor. Gilberto Fonseca is dressed in full costume, with a red carnation in his hand and a sash that says "Miss Matrafona" and gives us his opinion on this year's theme: "It's a way of remembering what happened in 1974, but it's not an easy theme, because there are a lot of people in favour and a lot of people against," he says, in a country that elected 50 far-right MPs in the last legislative elections. Satire is, in fact, a central element of this Carnival, with the many floats that parade in the main procession on Tuesday afternoon representing - or ridiculing - national and international political figures. Political criticism is a constant at the Torres Vedras Carnival Ricardo Figueira / Euronews All of this involves a great deal of time and work, according to Marta Coelho, a member of the organising team: "One of the first things we do is select the floats, which is done in September. From the end of the year, we start coordinating with the groups of masqueraders who are going to parade. Then they start creating the costumes according to the theme. We also have to coordinate with the eight carnival associations that are taking part. It's a process that takes a long time. The organisers estimate around half a million people visited this year.
