Carnival doesn't start until the 10-foot-tall John Travolta arrives

It was near the start of one of Brazil's most famous Carnival celebrations, in the northern coastal city of Olinda, and the town square was packed with thousands of revelers. They were all waiting for their idol.

Just before 9 p.m., the doors of a dance hall swung open, a marching band entered the crowd and out stepped the star everyone had been waiting for: a 10-foot-tall John Travolta puppet.

Confetti was sprayed and the band started playing a catchy tune and the audience sang along: “John Travolta is really cool. Throw a great party. And the best carnival in Olinda.' (It rhymes in Portuguese.)

The giant John Travolta, seated on a puppeteer's head, then led a parade through the cobblestone streets.

The “boneco,” as such gigantic dolls are known in Brazil, wore a glamorous disco-era turtleneck and suit, with a black pompadour, a la John Travolta in “Saturday Night Fever.” The boneco is celebrating its 45th anniversary this year and is about as old as that film.

But is the resemblance to the real Mr. Travolta?

“It doesn't look anything like him,” said the man who made the doll more than 40 years ago, Silvio Botelho, 65, in his studio in the shade of a mango tree. The clay and papier-mâché face has changed over time, making the eyes a bit strange. “The humidity took over,” he said. “Everything is crooked.”

Mr. Botelho has begged to have it recreated, but the family that owns the boneco says they — and thousands of their neighbors — love it the way it is.

“People are in love with this boneco,” said Eraldo José Gomes, 56, a grandfather who was among the group of disco-crazed boys who came up with the idea of ​​making a John Travolta doll in 1979. “We are afraid of making a mess. with it.”

The John Travolta boneco (pronounced BO-neh-koh) is one of hundreds of giant puppets that parade through Olinda for four days every February, becoming the calling card of this city's famous carnival – which ends this week with the celebration of Fat Tuesday – and a show that shows how Brazil's pre-Lenten festivities are much more than just Rio de Janeiro's extravagant Samba Parade.

For locals here in Olinda, a city of about 350,000, the bonecos also serve a deeper purpose. They are a kind of totems that play an important cultural and social role and often bring revelers to tears. Olinda's oldest boneco, The Midnight Man, is even considered a sacred religious object by followers of Afro-Brazilian religions, with specific religious instructions for its handling.

“I grew up with John Travolta. He is my brother. He is the uncle of my children,” Valeria dos Santos, 41, said of the John Travolta boneco. The housekeeper began to cry as she explained how her mother loved that boneco, ironed its clothes for years and died in 2007, the day it paraded through the streets.

The bonecos first arrived in the region in 1919, in a town seven hours away, when a Portuguese priest told of similar dolls used in Europe for religious celebrations, said Jorge Veloso, an Olinda historian who studies the bonecos in Brazil .

In 1932, carnival revelers in Olinda created The Midnight Man, which paraded every Saturday night at midnight for decades, a moment that was broadcast live on television.

In 1967, Carnival groups created a second boneco, The Daytime Woman, as the wife of The Midnight Man – there was a Carnival wedding ceremony – and then, in 1974, came their son, The Afternoon Kid.

Later, a group of seven boys, fascinated by “Saturday Night Fever,” convinced Mr. Botelho to create a John Travolta boneco. Mr. Botelho, who was just starting out and knew the boys in the neighborhood, agreed to do it for free.

From there, bonecos exploded all over Olinda. There are folkloric figures, fictional characters and dolls based on famous revelers. Local politicians order them for their campaigns, companies make them for promotions and people order them as gifts.

Most are the creation of Mr. Botelho, a self-taught doll maker who estimates that he and his team have made more than 1,300 bonecos. He used to work with paper mache and Styrofoam, but now he mainly pours fiberglass and epoxy over a clay sculpture, paints it and adds hair and clothing. “I created a culture,” he said.

About 15 years ago the competition came along. A businessman, Leandro Castro, began setting up bonecos in the neighboring metropolis of Recife, Brazil's eighth largest city. His idea – to create a boneco museum – became a great success, largely because he had a good gimmick: all his bonecos would depict famous figures.

His one-room museum is filled with Brazilian and international celebrities, including Elvis, Pelé and Pope Francis.

Mr. Castro receives a lot of attention in the Brazilian media, partly because of his stunts with politics. He has President Biden's bones; Xi Jinping, the leader of China; and President Vladimir V. Putin of Russia. He has arranged a meeting between the bones of former President Donald J. Trump and Kim Jong Un, the leader of North Korea. And he proudly displayed a message from Brazil's former president Jair Bolsonaro, thanking him for his own boneco.

While Mr. Castro is the face of the company, the secret to its lifelike bonecos is a little-known sculptor, Antônio Bernardo, who on Friday in his dingy studio a few blocks from the museum was sculpting a giant clay head next to his sleeping man. dog, darling.

Mr. Bernardo has sculpted nearly all of Mr. Castro's 750 bonecos and was now racing to finish a new politician for Mr. Castro's annual Carnival puppet parade: President Javier Milei of Argentina.

Mr. Bernardo said creating his own art gives him satisfaction, while the bonecos are a job. “This doesn't please me,” he said, gesturing to Mr. Milei's head. “I am dominated by it.”

The dueling puppet tycoons, Mr. Botelho and Mr. Castro, have become rivals of sorts. Mr. Botelho called Mr. Castro a “pirate.” Mr. Castro criticized the craftsmanship of Mr. Botelho's bonecos, specifically mentioning John Travolta. Mr. Castro said he planned to make a better John Travolta next year.

The John Travolta boneco has an unconventional look – and an undeniable charm.

“It's terrible, but beautiful,” said Maria Helena Alcântara, 30, a reveler who waited for the boneco's arrival on Saturday evening. “He touches our hearts.”

As the crowd grew in the plaza, more than 100 people partied in the ballroom at a private John Travolta party. They wore John Travolta shirts, danced to the catchy John Travolta tune and posed with the John Travolta boneco in the corner.

“There isn't much of a link with the actor these days. Now he is John Travolta from Olinda,” said Diego Gomes, 25, a relative of the founders of the John Travolta boneco. He had watched 'Saturday Night Fever' for the first time that week. “It was interesting,” he said.

Throughout the city, several children wore smaller John Travolta bonecos on their heads as carnival costumes. And at one point in Mr. Botelho's workshop, 5-year-old Victor Calebe walked in, looked at the various bonecos and asked, “Where's John Travolta?”

Boneco's founders said they had been trying to reach the real Mr. Travolta for years but never heard back.

“He will say: what kind of madness is this?” Mr Botelho had predicted it. “Are they drunk?”

However, when asked for comment, the real Mr. Travolta felt differently.

“Your music, your dance and your passion fill me with a feeling of completeness!” the actor responded in an email when asked if he had a message for the Olinda partygoers. “I am proud and honored to be the icon of your carnival! It makes me so happy! Always sweet, John Travolta.”

Laura Linhares Mollica contributed reporting.