Some Carnaval Rules and Regs

Okay, this is it, carnaval weekend looms ahead. I've been to the Sambadrome in Rio three times to see the 12 main Rio samba schools do their thing first-hand, but this year I'll be staying home to watch from the comfort of our living room or at least until I fall asleep (the excitement starts at 9:00 p.m. and usually doesn't end until 7:00 the next morning). A few blogposts back on the subject of carnavalescos, I wrote that the Sambadrome parade is actually "an aggressively-fought competition." It is indeed, and to my surprise the contest aspect has become my favorite part of carnaval. I'm actually amused that a person as averse to competition as I am relishes this competitive side of carnaval. But I do.

The judges . . . they look harmless enough

It took me a couple of years, but now I'm into the nitty-gritty. The schools are judged in ten categories, or quesitos — percussionists, samba (music and lyrics), harmony,  evolution, theme, overall effect, floats and props, costumes, the opening vanguard and the boy-girl couple that are the standard-bearer and master of ceremonies — with four judges per category. Some snippets for those following along at home:


Percussionists — these guys are LOUD. They are responsible for maintaining the rhythmic pulse of the samba at all times during the parade. I'm still not sure I hear all the subtle differences myself, but each samba school has a unique, identifiable percussive sound depending on the number of drums and the way they're hit. Take Mangueira's percussionists. They are known as Surdo Um — surdo is a large drum — because they hit only on the second beat, with no answering surdo on the downbeat, like all the other schools. When Mangueira's percussionists begin, the crowd goes wild. And I get goose bumps.

Harmony — in order to score high in this category, the music, rhythm and singing must all meld seamlessly with the choreography and dancing of the participants. Points can be lost if the judges catch any of the participants not singing. And here lies one of the annual controversies: to allow or not to allow foreigners to participate in the parade. As non-speakers of Portuguese they can't sing the samba, and as non-dancers of samba they don't get the rhythm. So that group of hulking, blond Swedes jumping up and down alongside the group of Americans energetically waving their pointer fingers in the air, Broadway-style, inevitably end up costing the schools precious points. On the other hand, foreigners pay upwards of $1,200 for a costume and a space in the parade, so . . . what's a fraction of a point here or there?

The standard-bearer and master of ceremonies couple — this elegant and graceful couple carries and protects the school's flag while dancing an intricate "minuet-samba." They might have the biggest responsibility of anyone in the school, because they mustn't under any circumstances let that flag touch the ground, or even dip below the standard-bearer's shoulders, for 80 long minutes. And that is one heavy flag (99 pounds/45 kilos!). But they make it look so easy, and they're lots of fun to watch.

Down she goes!

This year will no doubt see the usual dramas: a couple of floats will break down at the entrance to the runway and spoil the school's chances; at least one float will catch fire; several people will fall off their floats and one passista will fall off her mercilessly high heels; one or two schools will have the unfortunate fate of having to parade under a torrential downpour; and one celebrity parader, or destaque, will lose her tapa-sexo (you figure it out). Although the destaque herself will get lots of publicity, the school's directors will be furious. Total nudity is prohibited and she won't be invited back next year. And who knows but that there won't be one of those last-minute censorship controversies that will cause one or another school to parade with a float covered in black plastic (see photo below). So there you have it. I've got my follow-along judging card. Let the games begin!

In 2004, the samba school Grande Rio paraded with a censored float. Underneath the plastic? Various depictions of the Kama Sutra.

Carnavalescos

Mosteiro Zen Budista's silent carnaval  

It's carnaval! Get out your masks, your feathers, your boas! Get your tickets to the Sambadrome parades! Pick your favorite street carnaval group and join in! Well, that's one way to celebrate carnaval. But this end-of-summer holiday blowout can be celebrated in many different ways. While it does seem that most Brazilians jump right in with both feet moving to a samba beat, others merely tolerate the crowds and the noise as best they can, relying on ear plugs to get through the nights. Some people travel to a resort and spend their entire holiday week at the beach. A friend of ours uses this time to explore his zen side at the Mosteiro Zen Budista, a retreat in the mountains of Espírito Santo.

Carnaval at the Sambadrome

I myself once thought carnaval was one big, disorganized, loud mess, to be avoided at all costs. I had no idea what a samba school was or what it represented. But when it slowly dawned on me how much like a Broadway musical the carnaval show was I sat up and took notice. (I always did love my Broadway musicals.) Before long I began to see beyond the skimpy costumes and the deafening percussion to the intricate, backstage details. I began to understand the strict rules that regulate the competition. (Yes, this "spectacle" is actually an  aggressively-fought competition.) And as I learned more and more about Rio's carnaval in particular, one personality jumped out front and center, the crucially important carnavalesco. It takes many talented people to stage a Broadway musical: a writer, a producer, a director, a set designer, a costume designer, an art director and a lighting director. But the carnavalesco — with a healthy dash of help — is the samba school's art-set-costume-lighting producer and director all in one.

In the 1930s and 1940s the carnavalescos were usually amateur members of the samba schools they supported. They did the best they could and made up in enthusiasm what they lacked in professionalism. As for payment, they wouldn't accept one centavo. Nowadays? The highly-compensated and extremely professional carnavalesco can work as a hired gun for several samba schools in the course of his career. He's the one who comes up with the school's theme each year, researches it, develops how it is to be organized and presented, and who, along with a team of artists and designers, designs the characters, the costumes, and the accessories. The carnavalesco also works with engineers and architects to build the floats. On the night his school parades, the carnavalesco is responsible for getting all 4,000 or so participants costumed, assembled and down the runway without a hitch, and within the allotted 80 minutes.

Paulo Barros

I know I'm a Johnny-come-lately to carnaval, but my personal favorite carnavalesco is Paulo Barros, a former airline steward. He burst on the scene in 2004 and broke through years of sameness with his now-famous "DNA float," which used people instead of mechanical pieces to represent DNA particles. He went on to astonish the public the following year with jaw-dropping magic tricks no one could figure out, and the next year with heads that seemed to fall off shoulders, only to be replaced with a smile, over and over again. Paulo Barros doesn't always win, but he is always given a standing ovation by the public. And we can't wait to see what this most innovative carnavalesco has in store for this year's extravaganza. (Mind you, we'll be watching on television. I'm done with the Sambadrome.)

Here's a piece of Barros magic from 2010:



And some mystery from the following year: