After being suspended from his job as a police officer due to a violent incident during training, Daniel (Antonio Saboia) decides to travel and meet his long-distance, online girlfriend, Sara (Pedro Fasanaro) as a surprise for her.  No one seems to know anything about her until Daniel meets Fernando (Thomas Aquino), a friend of Sara’s.  With news of Daniel’s suspension spreading throughout the country, and a secret of her own to hide, Sara is unsure if she wants to meet Daniel in person but having traveled all this way Daniel will not leave until they do.  

Written and directed by Aly Muritiba with assistance on the page from Henrique Dos Santos, Private Desert is an unconventional, queer love story hailing from Brazil.  Released by Kino Lorber in the States after its submission to the 94^th OSCARS, the 120-minute film is, despite its reserved nature and tone, incredibly powerful, cathartic, and free.  With a 30-minute cold open, Private Desert takes its time getting started, focusing exclusively on Daniel for much of the opening act and sowing seeds of interest regarding his online relationship, the situation with work, and his past in general.  The understated approach to exposition will be maintained throughout the duration of the film, and because of that, the film is able to wash over us like a powerful wave when the credits begin to roll. 

Saboia leads the first half of the film, and with his arm in a cast and clear indications of a violent temper, he is not the easiest protagonist to follow, but he garners sympathy in the care he shows his elderly father.  Their relationship is not greatly explored, and if there is a fault in an otherwise meticulous script it would be setting the foundation of Daniel’s life at home and who he is away from his father and away from Sara.  As presented, Daniel is a bit of an enigma and as references to his character are made later in the film, it becomes hard to separate the truth from speculation.  Saboia takes the role in stride and portrays the quintessential idea of masculinity up against a possible identity crisis with incredible nuance and watching his growth throughout the film is quite beautiful.  The film is not interested in holding the audience’s hand throughout, so the ending is left rather ambiguous, especially for Daniel and what this eye-opening encounter with Sara means for him and his life back home, but it feels like a genuine discovery, even if only for a few fleeting moments. 

While Saboia is our entry into the film, Private Desert is a showcase for Fasanaro who plays the dual role of Sara and Robson, a youth sent by their father to live with their religious grandmother after being caught dressing in women’s clothes and courting other men.  Fasanaro is a powerhouse of talent in this film despite only occupying the frame in the second half.  Sara, like Daniel, starts off as a character shrouded in mystery, first off is that no one in town is able to provide Daniel any information on her.  By the book, this catfishing scenario – though it feels wrong to call it as such – is the central mystery as Daniel discovers that Sara is actually Robson.  The role requires Fasanaro to occupy two distinct characters, a task the actor does with great skill, and the script creates many parallels between Sara and Robson, and then also with Daniel as well.   

This multi-structured approach helps to highlight the importance of how a healthy situation and environment can lead to self-discovery and, more importantly, self-acceptance and also grapples with feelings of love, desire, and betrayal.  When with his grandmother, Robson is forced into the role of a dutiful grandson who accompanies his grandmother to worship services and sings along praises in the pews for the town to see.  As it is revealed more that Robson and Sara are one and the same, we also see a few glimmers of compassion towards the youth from the grandmother, but ultimately, she is powerless to really let Robson free to live their life.  Robson finds escape in the form of Fernando, a true friend, and the only one at the time of Daniel’s arrival to provide any details on Sara, though he does so more as a way to vet and protect Robson who has had their picture posted all around town asking for information about Sara.   

As the narrative unfolds and Daniel meets Sara, and eventually Robson, the film picks up the pace and the intensity as it lays out the moral dilemma that lies at the heart of the story.  Both parties were hiding details about each other; Daniel hides his ongoing investigation and Robson hides that they feel most at home with themself living as Sara.  Neither has been totally true to the other, so where do they go from here?  The film skips over long, dialogue-heavy scenes where the two would lash out at each other before making up, but it is not devoid of resolution.  It is late in the third act where we begin to see Daniel tumble through the complicated emotions of acceptance not only of himself but of Robson/Sara. The film’s hands-off approach draws some worrying caution as it is not always clear where the line of consent is in the moment, but the final moments of the film offer some comforting context in that regard. Private Desert is not a fairytale ending, and so much is left ambiguous about where these characters can go from here, but the one thing for certain is that their lives will never again be the same after this encounter. 

Muritiba’s film is a quiet yet powerful examination of masculinity and identity in a place where traditional ideals are still largely upheld. It is not a portrait of total disparity, but rather a tender examination of the challenges faced by queer and questioning people of all ages and nationalities. Despite its rugged form, Private Desert is a fiercely positive film that also works exceptionally well as a tragic love story of two people meeting at the wrong time in their lives, but learning important lessons about themselves and about life. In that way, it breaks away from being just another tragic queer romance and into something more widely accessible. While it is not as brutally and externally violent as Kimberly Peirce’s Boys Don’t Cry (1999) or Frank Pierson’s Soldier’s Girl (2003), Private Desert shows the internal strain that self-discovery can have on a person, not unlike Eliza Hittman’s Beach Rats (2017), but Muritiba also is sure to show us the silver lining that comes with finding a family and self-acceptance, an aspect that is woefully missing from many queer films which are grounded in the reality that not everyone comes from a place of overwhelming support and love. Daniel and Sara may not be riding off into the sunset together, but they have both grown for the better from where this story started and with a fuller knowledge of themselves, they are ready to take their next steps in life.