Chelsea Alexandra
At its core, I Only Rest in the Storm is less about the mechanics of foreign aid than the uneasy moral terrain beneath it. Director Pedro Pinho digs into the grey areas of what it means to “do good” in a place still marked by the aftershocks of European power. Sérgio, the Portuguese engineer at its center, isn’t a villain so much as a mirror. Pinho never lets anyone, or anything, off the hook. That’s what makes the film so sharp: it’s not about pointing fingers, it’s about admitting how deep the complicity runs. It’s a sprawling drama that captures the messiness of good intentions in a neocolonial world.
I Only Rest in the Storm (O Riso e a Faca) follows Portuguese environmental engineer Sérgio (Sérgio Coragem), who travels to Guinea-Bissau to assess the impact of a proposed highway connecting the desert and the forest. Immersed in the expatriate and local communities, he becomes entangled in a fragile bond with Diara (Cleo Diára), a charismatic bar owner, and Gui (Jonathan Guilherme), a nonbinary Brazilian expat reconnecting with their ancestry. What begins as a story of intimacy gradually expands into a layered examination of colonial legacies, desire, and the contradictions of humanitarian work.
At 217 minutes, I Only Rest in the Storm wears its ambition on its sleeve. The length can feel daunting, but it’s also what allows Pinho to build a film that sprawls, digresses, and doubles back on itself, just as real life does. The length allows room for vignettes that might feel tangential on their own but, together, create a mosaic of messy encounters and uncomfortable truths. It’s the story of systems too large, too tangled, to ever be reduced to a tidy two-hour narrative. Pinho wants the audience to sit with the contradictions of colonialism, NGOs, and desire for as long as it takes. It’s an ambitious, slow-burning work that’s as visually hypnotic as it is morally ambiguous.
As I Only Rest in the Storm digs into the world of foreign aid, it exposes an underbelly as tangled and compromised as any other industry. Pinho doesn’t portray this with broad strokes or easy villains, but through small, revealing interactions. The result is a slow unmasking showing how the structures of neocolonialism seep into everyday gestures. The film raises complex, thought-provoking questions about postcolonial and neocolonial dynamics without pretending to have the answers. There are moments that land beautifully, and the writing feels natural, almost as if you’re watching a documentary. At times, though, it can overexplain itself and lose the natural rhythm of the film.
The performances in I Only Rest in the Storm are grounded and lived-in. Diára is magnetic as Diara, bringing a mix of strength, sensuality, and vulnerability that makes it obvious why Sérgio gravitates toward her. She’s also the emotional anchor of the film. Guilherme, in their breakout role as Gui, is equally striking as the one figure who consistently punctures Sérgio’s illusions and calls him out. Together, their chemistry helps balance the film’s heavier political and thematic weight. Then there is our protagonist, the aptly named Sérgio, played by Coragem. He captures the complexities of a man who wants to belong yet cannot stop centering himself. He wants to do good, and yet there are layers to the good being done. Together, the trio does have an electric and at times uneasy chemistry that holds steady to the ambitious runtime, giving performances that remind us that, beneath all the political themes that run throughout the film, there is still a story about human connection.
I Only Rest in the Storm recently had its North American premiere at the 63rd New York Film Festival (NYFF). I Only Rest in the Storm feels completely authentic and an immersive experience. Pinho wants viewers to inhabit the world he’s created, to sit with the contradictions, discomfort, and moral ambiguity that define it. In that sense, the film rewards patience with moments of genuine intimacy.
