Bureaucracy

One of the main themes of Brazil is how the system’s excessive administration has dehumanised the residents of its world. People are imprisoned and tortured because of faulty information passed through so many departmental layers that no one bothers to check or take responsibility for. The administration then shields itself from consequences because responsibility is obscured at every turn by the administration, which is segmented and deliberately alienating. The system views people as paperwork, numbers, and codes to be shifted around and dealt with according to official parameters. 

You can easily see how it parallels modern stories about the failures of bureaucracy. Think of the numerous people on universal credit or PIP in the UK. Claimants have to navigate a web of forms, meetings and requirements to get the necessary funds to live on. Only to be hit by sanctions that most of the time are overturned. A huge number of which are overturned based on already available information. So long as claimants submit themselves to the time-consuming appeals process. There’s also the hive of bureaucratic failures that enabled the Windrush scandal. These cases paint a picture of ordinary people being impacted by bureaucracy that sees them only as points on a page, with the system then making it difficult for them to seek justice.

Surveillance

Additionally, Brazil showcases a vast surveillance state that constantly keeps track of all its citizens. It records and can access supposedly private phone calls. Security cameras litter the landscape. Programmes allow bosses to keep track of what their employees are doing and there is a massive database full of everyone’s personal information (among other things).

Of course, living in a post-Snowden world, in which it is known that government departments spy on their own citizens in various invasive ways, the world of Brazil feels truly prophetic. CCTV is now also a prevalent part of everyday life. Plus the sheer amount of modern methods that employers use to keep track of employee workplace activity, makes Brazil’s dystopic vision feel quaint by comparison. Apps and monitoring software keep track of employee activity on phones and computers. Scanners time employee activity on the job and devices even monitor the time employees spend at the desk.

Security & “Prosperity”

Beyond the broader themes, Brazil has many details that add to its contemporary feel. There are implications in the story that the government uses the terrorist threat to justify infringing on people’s privacy. Though notably, it does not make people any more safe. All of this sounds very familiar to the actions taken by the US after 9/11 as well as the UK’s supposed anti-terror measures like Prevent. The use of militarised police along with a system which forces wronged people to pay for the damage incurred by the police has also been seen in the US.

We see people like the Buttles ground down and living in cramped accommodations in neglected areas. A problem many working-class people can relate to. Consumerism is rife. Absurd adverts push newer, better pipes and goop has taken the place of prepared food. Which is not far away from fast food, despite what airbrushed promos try to sell us, and other adverts encourage us to upgrade everything. Along with this posters tell people to suspect others and anti-immigrant bile is still found on the streets which all feels right at home in 21st Century Britain.

Sci-fi or Political Cartoon?

Elements like the constant surveillance, the justifications given for the way things are, heavy-handed punishment and the importance placed on money show a society concerned with rigid adherence to a system that most benefits only those closest to the levers of power. Meanwhile, dissent and those seen as less important are dehumanised through the mountains of bureaucracy, state paranoia and racist attitudes. Leading to a world in which those framed as ‘undesirable’ are removed while many are kept disenfranchised with little but dull consumption for comfort. Brazil’s nightmare commentary holds so much resonance it could have been released yesterday.

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In this narrative, Chilean military dictator General Augusto Pinochet (Jaime Vadell) is a 250 years-old vampire who was born in France and after seeing the fall of his beloved French monarchy at the hands of Napoleon Bonaparte decides to move to South America and become the “king” of an impoverished Chile after a coup d’état that culminates with the death of President Salvador Allende, an historical fact that happened exactly 50 years ago.

By opting for Black and White photography, cinematographers Edward Lachmann and Larraín bring a tribute to classic horror movies, and it allows ‘El Conde’ to have some graphic scenes that are not there for gratuitous violence but to represent the ruthlessness and lengths the real Pinochet would delve to impose his will. While his fictional version mauls and bites, the real-life figure would order his opposers to be thrown from flying helicopters to the sea, which is currently being celebrated by far-right movements around the globe.

The allegory of a dictator as a vampire demonstrates how a corrupted regimen not only sucks dry the resources of a country and its people to its benefit but also how it perverts morals under the lie of being a way to revert back to more conservative values when in fact they only apply to those out of the elite bubble that still indulges themselves in many vices be the dictatorship of right or left-wing leanings.

The acting of Vadell shows a Pinochet who avoided death but is a failing and pathetic figure, much different from the way he was portrayed by the government, while also avoiding the clichés of lord vampires as suave and terrifying. Count Pinochet not only has a penchant for slaughtering to keep his power but also is avid for money embezzlement.

The children of Pinochet and his wife represent how those in the upper echelons can become so indulged in luxury to the point that they stop contributing to their country and behave as if their privilege is just birthright. The Catholic church is powerful in the region; however, it isn’t spared as while some sectors heavily opposed the dictatorships others aligned or turned a blind eye to the abuses of power.

The Russian butler, Fyodor played by Alfredo Castro, a longtime collaborator of Larraín, exemplifies the lengths that those born outside the top caste can go to ensure they are not treated as “little people” in these systems while earning to climb further in the ladder. The rest of the cast execute their roles with chemistry and the nun Carmencita (Paula Luchsinger) serves as the point of view character.

One curious point is that although the majority of the movie is spoken in the Spanish language, there is an English-speaking narrator and considering the Chile-Britain relation it makes sense as not only the United Kingdom is perceived as a colonizing power but the elite in the Americas in many times are a colonized and kitsch answer to those found in the North-Hemisphere, hence the writing by Larraín and Guillermo Calderón gives a scope on how we, South Americans, are perceived by them. The way the narrator describes the differences between the taste of British blood to the South American counterpart in the palate of the vampire Pinochet as if comparing wines goes straight to the point.

It’s not the first time that Larraín approaches the dictatorship that ravaged his country as he showed part of it with the picture ‘No’ (2012) starring Gael García Bernal focusing on the referendum that brought democracy to the country. Still, with ‘El Conde’, Larraín does a critique of Chile’s story with humour in a farce that touches on the political past and present of the country that has gone recently through a major economic crisis that accentuated the social inequality.

To mainstream audiences, Larraín is known for the intimate portrayals in Spencer (2020) and Jackie (2016), biopics of Lady Diana and Jackeline Kennedy, respectively. Which makes this movie an interesting showcase of his comedic skills. A lesser auteur wouldn’t be able to pull El Conde without failing to the traps of clichés or breaking the fourth wall with speeches to remind us how bad those times were and that there are those still profiting from them, Larraín respects the public’s intellect and Chile’s history.

Also Read: Review: Oppenheimer

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The post Review: El Conde (The Count) – Pinochet Is a Vampire Sucking Chile Dry appeared first on Big Picture Film Club.

A Brief History of Cinema Novo

Although the term ‘Cinema Novo’ has been used since the 60s, it is more of a retrospective term. The filmmakers of the time did not actively create films to fit into the description of Cinema Novo. It was an open practice which evolved naturally alongside the political and cultural changes of the time.

In the 1950s, Brazil mostly produced comedic musicals called chanchadas in the style of Old Hollywood. However, at the end of the decade, Brazilian films began to focus more on topics of social justice. This was as the country faced political upheaval as it entered the eras of Brazilian Presidents Juscelino Kubitschek and João Goulart. Cinema Novo did not have a defined style, but it picked inspiration from European film movements like French New Wave and Italian Neorealism.

The French New Wave saw the popularisation of the ‘auteur’ theory, which views the director as the creative lead of a film and therefore its author. Italian Neorealism was a style of politically-driven filmmaking in Italy following the 1943 Italian Spring. It explored topics like poverty and injustice, and Cinema Novo followed in this regard. The onset of Cinema Novo was also the first time Brazilian film began to receive international critical acclaim.

Cinema Novo is often divided into three phases:

Phase One (1960-1964)

The beginning of the movement focused on political themes like poverty, racism and social inequality. Violence was a common denominator which reflected the frustration of the society of the time. Films were often shot in black and white as a stylistic choice that deviated from the more polished Hollywood-esque style. The economic instability of Brazil was reflected in the lowered technical precision since filmmakers lacked the funds for higher-quality equipment. Glauber Rocha, who released the cinematic classic Black God, White Devil in 1964, was one of the notable directors of this phase.

Phase Two (1964-1968)

This phase was a reaction to the overthrow of the popular President João Goulart. The population faced disillusionment as many of his progressive changes were rolled back after the military coup. The pro-democracy ideals of the first phase began to seem unrealistic, and filmmakers began to move towards commercialization. The ‘aesthetic of hunger’ which was popular in the first phase gave way to a concentration on middle-class protagonists. This was a bid to create films more relatable to a larger audience. There was also a move from black and white to colour. This was first seen in Leon Hirzshman’s Garota de Ipanema (The Girl from Ipanema) (1967), one of the quintessential films of this time.

Phase Three (1968-1972)

The last phase of the movement is sometimes referred to as the cannibal-tropicalist phase. Its tropical nature refers to the return to colourful aesthetics reflecting the Brazilian jungle. These had been popular before Cinema Novo. Cannibalism, in this case, was both literal and metaphorical. The best example of this is Rocha’s black comedy Como Era Gostoso o Meu Francês (How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman) (1971). The film involved the literal cannibalism of a Frenchman, to represent how necessary violence is in enacting social change.

Impact

Cinema Novo had a definite end in the 70s with Brazilian film moving towards more commercial projects and government-backed film under the Embrafilme company. In spite of this, it has had a lasting impact. Cinema Novo is considered the beginning of the Third Cinema, a wave of socio-political cinema that popped up all across the globe. From Hong Kong to Australia and everywhere in between, the movement of socially conscious films changed how we view cinema. Eryk Rocha, the son of Glauber Rocha, paid homage to the movement through the documentary Cinema Nova (2014) at the Cannes Film Festival.

Also Read: Global Cinema Spotlight: Lollywood

Also Read: Interview: City of God’s Alexandre Rodrigues Discusses The Film’s Impact 20 Years Later

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