Chicó, by contrast, remains the lovable coward, but his role expands. Where Grilo is the strategist, Chicó becomes the accidental moral compass. His famous retelling of the “cão chupando manga” (dog sucking mango) story recurs as a motif, but now the story changes each time—a metafictional commentary on memory, truth, and the unreliability of narrative itself. In a brilliant sequence, Chicó’s conflicting versions of the same event become evidence in the heavenly trial, forcing the angels to confront the nature of truth in a world of oral tradition.
Auto da Compadecida 2 (2024), again directed by Guel Arraes, answers this challenge not by overwriting the original but by extending its metaphysical logic. The sequel acknowledges that the first film ended with a kind of grace: the characters were saved, forgiven, and returned to life. But grace, Suassuna knew, does not erase human nature. Thus, the sequel asks: What happens after salvation? The answer is a darker, more self-aware, yet still uproarious journey that transposes the sertão’s battle between justice and trickery into a contemporary—and even eschatological—key. The plot of Auto da Compadecida 2 cleverly mirrors but inverts the original’s structure. In the first film, João Grilo (Selton Mello) dies, goes to heaven, and is sent back thanks to the intercession of the Virgin Mary (the “Compadecida”). In the sequel, after years of surviving by his wits alongside the cowardly Chicó (Matheus Nachtergaele), Grilo faces a new cosmic crisis: the system of divine judgment has become bureaucratic, corrupt, or simply exhausted. Death itself is malfunctioning. Souls are stuck in limbo, and the heavenly tribunal—now depicted as a chaotic, backlogged celestial office—threatens to erase Grilo and Chicó from existence unless they can prove that humanity is worth saving. auto da compadecida 2
Introduction Few Brazilian cultural artifacts enjoy the quasi-mythical status of O Auto da Compadecida (2000), the film directed by Guel Arraes and adapted from Ariano Suassuna’s 1955 play. A masterpiece of Northeastern Brazilian literature and cinema, the original blended medieval morality plays, cangaço folklore, and baroque Catholic theology into a wildly comedic yet profoundly humanist fable. For over two decades, the prospect of a sequel seemed not only unnecessary but perilous: how could one revisit João Grilo and Chicó without betraying their already perfect, circular narrative—complete with resurrection and moral summation? Chicó, by contrast, remains the lovable coward, but
Unlike many sequels that forget socioeconomic context, Auto da Compadecida 2 insists on the sertão’s material reality. The drought continues. The powerful still exploit the weak. Grilo and Chicó’s schemes are still born of hunger. Yet the film avoids miserabilism: laughter is not a distraction from suffering but a weapon against it. One memorable scene shows a rich landowner in heaven trying to buy his way into a better seat, only to discover that celestial currency is kindness—something he never accumulated. In a brilliant sequence, Chicó’s conflicting versions of