I first interviewed filmmaker Ana Petta about her powerful debut feature documentary, When Lack of Air (Quando Falta o Ar, 2022), co-directed with her sister, physician Helena Petta. The film portrayed the COVID-19 pandemic in Brazil through the eyes of public health workers on the frontlines and won the Best Brazilian Documentary Award at the It’s All True Festival (É Tudo Verdade).

Now, Ana returns with a deeply personal work, Amora, premiering at the 49th São Paulo International Film Festival (Mostra Internacional de Cinema) from October 16 to 30. Produced by Clementina Filmes, Amora continues Ana’s exploration of memory, resilience, and social transformation, but from a more intimate and emotional perspective.

A story born from demolition and resistance

In Amora, Ana turns the camera on her own life. The film begins when she, her ten-year-old daughter Maria, and her four-year-old son Pedro learn that their small housing complex, a villa in central São Paulo, will be demolished to make way for a new building.

Ana started filming to preserve the memory of a space that was about to disappear, ensuring her children could have images of the house where they were born. Watching Pedro, at just four years old, trying to make sense of what was happening through his imagination, she realized that there was something there adults needed to pay attention to.

Narrated from Pedro’s perspective, Amora becomes both a meditation on urban space and a reflection on the kind of cities we want to build for our children. Ana, Maria, and Pedro were the last to leave the villa, living there alone for months. The filming became an act of resistance against the demolition while giving the children time to process the changes. The project highlights how both large and small struggles shape human experience.

The poetics of urgency and memory

Like When Lack of Air, which captured the urgency of a country in crisis, Amora addresses an emergency rooted in the intimate and everyday. The film focuses on small moments, imagination, affection, backyards, and lessons from children that exist outside the logic of financial capitalism. It seeks to denounce destruction while inviting viewers to reconnect with their own childhoods. Pedro’s astonishment at the changes around him provides a lens through which adults can reflect on the world’s absurdities.

The collaboration with editor Paulo Celestino and sound designer Edson Secco was essential for shaping the film’s aesthetic and sensitivity. Events from the adult world, such as a public hearing at São Paulo’s Conpresp (Municipal Council for Historical, Cultural, and Environmental Heritage Preservation), are woven into Pedro’s imaginative universe through the montage.

Preserving what we can still remember

With Amora, Ana emphasizes a painful truth about Brazil’s relationship with memory. The demolition of historic and green areas to build functional but soulless towers is devastating in São Paulo and occurs across the country. While elites may admire preserved European cities, they sponsor demolitions at home. Ana argues that imagining new worlds requires preserving backyards, memory, nature, and beauty.

I Interviewed Ana Petta and Pedro About Amora: A Child’s Eye on Memory and Change in São Paulo.

Origin and narrative

How did you get the idea to turn the demolition of the villa into a documentary?

We received news that we would have to leave the villa because it would be demolished to build a high-rise. At first, I started filming to preserve the memories of a century-old villa that would no longer exist. But it was the children’s reactions that made me realize their perspective could be an interesting way to tell this story.

When did you realize that Amora could speak to something bigger than your family’s memory?

São Paulo is undergoing a process of erasing its memory. Historic and natural sites are being demolished to make way for buildings without a social purpose. The decision to demolish our villa was part of this process. I realized that what we were experiencing was not just personal but part of an urban development model based on real estate speculation.

How was it to tell the story from a child’s perspective?

Pedro was four years old at the time. We began “playing” with the idea of making a film, and it was through this playful relationship that we discovered a dynamic where his spontaneity was the absolute priority. Everything was filmed at his pace, and many scenes were filmed by him.

Before deciding to make a feature film, what kind of records did you start creating—videos, drawings, or photos?

I wanted the children to have images of the place where they were born, so I began filming the spaces, the residents, and the celebrations. I also organized photos, documents, and other memories of the villa.

How did you balance the desire to preserve these memories with the responsibility of making a film for others?

It’s not simple to separate what is just personal from what belongs in the film. Working on the editing and talking with Paulo Celestino helped me understand what made sense to include and what should stay “in the drawer.” When you put material in the film, it shows you its best place. Even so, I often doubted whether some images would make sense to other people. Only when the film was screened did I realize that personal images connected with the audience.

City and memory

What did the villa mean to you and your family at the time?

I chose the villa to build my family. Maria and Pedro were born there and spent their childhood there. It was an open community, with parties, nature, and a lot of solidarity among neighbors.

Do you feel the film also critiques policies that erase the city’s memory?

I think the film, through a child’s point of view, speaks about an urban development model that is erasing the city’s memory. The villa has architecture from the 1920s and 1930s, representing a way of living in the early 20th century, and it is important for the community. But for real estate speculation, it means nothing.

Can the demolition of the villa be seen as a metaphor for the lack of historical preservation?

I think so. We started from a personal universe that symbolizes society as a whole. The Brazilian elite travels to Europe and admires how everything is preserved, yet here in Brazil, they sponsor the demolition of historic places. Ending the villa also means ending a type of communal life, affectionate relationships, and a freer childhood. I think this is very symbolic.

What kind of city would you like children to grow up in, and how does cinema help reflect on that?

I wish all children could grow up in a city that, in addition to guaranteeing rights to education, health, and housing, also provides access to spaces for play, nature, and imagination. I believe films can help people understand the importance of this.

For Pedro: What kind of city would you like to live in?

I believe I want to live in a city for people, where housing is meant for residents. It sounds simple, but in São Paulo, the city is built for companies. I want the next generation to inherit a city designed for our needs, and I will fight for that.

Childhood and imagination

What did you learn by seeing how he processed the loss of the house through imagination?

Today, I understand that he was processing the suffering through imagination, and the space of the villa, nature, and the piano helped. Imagination is a very powerful tool because, in addition to translating events through fables and imaginary characters, it also projects other worlds and possibilities. He always believed we could defeat the giant and helped me believe it, too.

Do you think children perceive changes in the world more freely or more painfully than adults?

Children are seeing things for the first time, and their astonishment at absurdities we adults have normalized is essential for us to rethink our attitudes. I think the perspective is definitely freer.

How was it to participate in scenes with your family, living and recording at the same time?

It was only possible because we followed a “home” logic, not a professional production. We filmed in real time with events, while it was comfortable for everyone. Some “shooting days” lasted just ten minutes, the time Pedro wanted to play while filming. It had to be like that to respect the children and our experience.

For Pedro: How was it directing the scenes with your family?

Well, I was just a child like any other—I didn’t intend to make a film; my only idea was to have fun. Because of that, it was really enjoyable at the time. They respected my wishes completely, never asking me to perform any scenes. Everything happened very naturally. It was almost like playing at making a film, but at the same time, I was serious.

Aesthetics and impact

How did working with Paulo Celestino and Edson Secco help shape the film? And how was it to be “directed” by your son?

Paulo and Edson immersed themselves in Pedro’s imagination. The editing follows the flow of Pedro’s thoughts and how he is experiencing events. The soundtrack was created by Edson based on the elements and characters Pedro imagined. This gave structure to the film.

It was fun to be “directed” by him. This playful approach helped us give meaning to what we were living, and today, Amora is a real instrument to defend the villa.

How did you create the audiovisual language to show his imagination?

Our approach was to let Pedro be free, without trying to direct him. His imagination is part of him and was his way of reacting to everything. It’s a beautiful age where reality and imagination coexist, so the best approach was to allow spontaneity and film with whatever was at hand, without preparation.

What do you hope the audience takes away from watching Amora?

I hope the audience connects with their own childhood and feels indignation alongside Pedro at seeing the memory of a city erased to build buildings where no one lives. I hope people value human relationships, affection, and the beauty of small things.

For Pedro: Do you have any idea of another documentary or film you want to make?

I’m not planning to make another film, because Amora is simply me living. But time is the master of our destiny, so who knows, right?

Amora (Brazil, 2025, 76 min) is directed by Ana Petta and written by Petta and Paulo Celestino, who also serves as the film’s editor. The sound design is by Edson Secco. The film marks another significant work in Petta’s growing body of socially engaged cinema.

A graduate in Performing Arts from the University of São Paulo, Ana Petta previously co-directed When Lack of Air with her sister Helena Petta, a documentary that won multiple awards, including Best Brazilian Documentary at It’s All True (2022), the Audience Award at FAM – Florianópolis Audiovisual Mercosur, and Best Film at the Santos Film Fest (2023). She also created and starred in the TV series Unidade Básica (Globoplay), which earned the ABRA Award for Best Screenplay. Her earlier projects include Osvaldão (co-director, 2014) and Repare Bem (producer, 2012), the latter winning Best Foreign Film at the Gramado Film Festival.

Produced by Clementina Filmes, an independent Brazilian production company dedicated to reframing contemporary social issues through cinema, Amora continues the studio’s tradition of impactful storytelling. Clementina Filmes has co-produced notable works such as When Lack of Air, which qualified for the Academy Awards, and Osvaldão, both screened at the São Paulo International Film Festival. The company also co-produced Unidade Básica, winner of the 2017 ABRA Award for Best Screenplay.

Following its São Paulo premiere, Amora is set to screen at several international festivals, including DocsMX – Mexico City International Documentary Film Festival (2025), Atlantic Doc – Uruguay International Documentary Film Festival, and the Festival de Málaga (2026).