Oliveira’s 1942 Kids’ Drama Shines in Venice, Illuminating Modern Portugal

When a 1940s children’s tale filmed on the banks of the Douro resurfaces on the Lido, it signals more than a nostalgic return. For anyone living in Portugal today—whether recently arrived or long-settled—Manoel de Oliveira’s first feature, freshly polished in 4K, offers a unique shortcut into the country’s collective memory, its cinematic language and even its modern identity.

Why expats should care about a black-and-white film from 1942

Porto’s narrow streets have changed, but the moral dilemmas playing out among the barefoot kids of Aniki-Bóbó still echo in everyday Portuguese life: loyalty to friends, respect for the river, the quiet tug-of-war between tradition and modern ambition. Catching the restored version at Venice—or later back home—creates a conversation starter with Portuguese neighbours who grew up hearing about Oliveira’s work. It is also a rare chance to watch the alleged “missing link” between Lisbon’s poetic realism and Italy’s post-war neorealism on a big screen.

The painstaking resurrection behind the images

Cinemateca Portuguesa spent two years giving the brittle 35 mm negative a second life. Technicians at Cineric Portugal submerged the film in a liquid bath before scanning every frame in ultra-high resolution. Sound engineers at BillyBoom worked from a period print to rebuild the optical track, removing hiss that had accumulated over eight decades. Financing flowed through the FILMar programme, an EEA-Grants initiative aimed at safeguarding Lusophone audiovisual heritage. The result: a digital file so crisp that Porto’s tiled façades glint as if they were shot yesterday, while the original grain that gives the film its dream-like texture remains intact.

Portugal’s footprint at the 82nd Venice Film Festival

The 2025 edition (27 August-6 September) opens with Paolo Sorrentino’s La Grazia, yet the restored Portuguese classic headlines the Venice Classics sidebar, a strand curated by Alberto Barbera for “works too important to fade”. Oliveira is no stranger to Venetian honours—he took home the honorary Golden Lion in 2004—but this marks the first time his debut feature enters the Classics programme. Contemporary Portuguese titles also slip into the lineup: Cláudia Varejão’s short Kora and Luciana Fina’s documentary Sempre on the 25 April revolution screen in the Giornate degli Autori section, underscoring a year in which the Portuguese tricolour gains unusual visibility on the Lido.

Manoel de Oliveira’s long shadow

At 104, the Porto-born filmmaker was still calling “corta” on set; a decade after his passing, students at Lisbon’s film schools analyse Aniki-Bóbó to understand how he captured children’s play with almost anthropological patience. French critic André Bazin identified the movie as a blueprint for neorealism back in 1957, while historian Georges Sadoul called Oliveira “Portugal’s finest director” before most locals embraced him. Today, walk into any independent cinema in Lisbon and you’ll see his name woven into programming notes, proof that his prolific later years—one film nearly every year from 1981 to 2012—cemented his status as a living bridge between silent-era experimentation and 21st-century art-house cinema.

How to watch it after the Lido lights dim

Cinemateca Portuguesa plans to tour the restored print across Portuguese theatres this autumn, with English-subtitled sessions in Lisbon, Porto and Faro. Streaming rights are still under negotiation, but the institute hints at an eventual appearance on Filmin.pt, Portugal’s indie-oriented platform. In the meantime, keep an eye on Cinemateca’s monthly programme; the venue often pairs classic revivals with talks by historians who can unravel the slang shouted by the boys on the screen. For newcomers polishing their European Portuguese, Aniki-Bóbó serves as an engaging, vocabulary-stretching immersion—and a reminder that, in Portugal, cinema and cityscape have always grown side by side.