BRAZIL Revisited: Gilliam’s Dystopian Sci-Fi Masterpiece

If any of Terry Gilliam’s films can be considered his opus magnum, it is Brazil. Moreover, although it was not a financial success at the time of its premiere in 1984, the creator of 12 Monkeys’ film is today regarded as one of the most important achievements of the art of cinema. And rightly so.

It seems that in the category of dystopian science fiction films, the American’s work is a finished, almost perfect creation, which to this day remains a model for legions of filmmakers. Gilliam’s work can be seen, for example, in the Coen brothers’ Hudsucker Proxy, in Alex Proyas’ Dark City, or even recently in Richard Ayoade’s The Double. The list could go on forever.

So what is Brazil about? What determines its expressive power? What are the pillars of its success? The film opens with a scene informing us of the time of the action. Somewhere in the 20th century – says the text on the screen. And this is a significant clue. After watching the film, we know that the world presented is different from the one that existed in the present and past for the production of the film. At the time of its creation, only a dozen or so years remained until the next century.

So why did the creators not set the action in the 21st century, or further? Well, because Gilliam gives us a clear signal with this that, unlike 1984, which inspired him, he uses fictional elements to present observations or phenomena contemporary and familiar to Western society of the 1980s. In other words, unlike George Orwell’s book, he is not talking about things that might happen, but about things that were happening at that time — that were reality. Brazil is thus something of an anti-1984.

For just as the famous novel is a statement about a totalitarian regime, perfect in its function, Gilliam’s film presents not a fascist regime, but a bureaucratic regime, where, additionally, nothing works and it is run by incompetent people who allow, for example, absurd arrests. It is known that when speaking of matters as significant as governmental systems, one can easily become pretentious and pompous. Gilliam, however, thanks to his innate dose of black humor and excellent direction, gives us a film that not only gives food for thought, but is also funny and always visually exciting.

Brazil is a satire. This is made clear already in one of the first scenes, in which an official of the so-called Ministry of Information, while killing a fly, triggers a clerical error that has implications for further events in the life of the main character. The protagonist is Sam Lowry, a young, intelligent employee of a lower branch of power, who dreams of rescuing a damsel in distress. The motif of dreams appears throughout the film, and their course is an indicator of what is currently happening in the man’s life. When he is overwhelmed by reality, his dreams become nightmares.

Sam Lowry, played spot on by Jonathan Pryce, is a multi-layered character who is not a brave hero without fear (as he is in the dreams). His character is human, not devoid of flaws, but also of kindness. Although he seems to be the smartest of the surrounding company of bureaucrats, who appear to be deprived of humanity and, like Nazis, execute orders without question, he feels comfortable in his workplace.

Against, or in defiance of, his mother, who thanks to her high position is able to secure him a job at the Ministry of Information, he chooses to remain at a lower rank. He only changes his mind when he finds in reality the woman he dreams about. Involved in the clerical mistake from the beginning of the film, Jill (Kim Greist) is now wanted by the authorities and considered an accomplice of terrorists who allegedly disturb the ideal life of society.

Their supposed leader is a certain Harry Tuttle (Robert De Niro), a rebellious state worker who interacts with Sam at the beginning of the story. Played by De Niro, just like the rest of the supporting cast — for example Ian Holm as the protagonist’s clumsy boss, or Michael Palin as his ruthless old friend — he is convincing. Surrounded by this personal mix, and in love with Jill, Sam delves into and rediscovers the world around him.

The world of Brazil, like its characters, is remarkably intriguing. Bureaucracy is everywhere. It is unbearable and inept. To get anything done, one needs a sea of paperwork, permits, and stamps. Sam initially accepts this, later questions it, and finally fights against it. Brazil is therefore full of scenes or sequences that are on one hand funny, and on the other frightening. This dissonance is simultaneously instructive and thought-provoking.

Absurdity is not the only attribute used to amuse the viewer. Slapstick also does the job. It is particularly visible for example in the scene when Sam is suspended on the cab of Jill’s truck and is trying to draw her attention. There are of course more such moments. These moments form the tonal background of the film and are close to the coarse humor of Monty Python. It is worth mentioning for instance Sam’s mother, who is such a great enthusiast of cosmetic surgery that she spends the entire Christmas holiday undergoing procedures.

Christmas, which is the backdrop of the film’s events, is reduced to generating minor gags rather than something that leads or propels the plot in a specific direction. And this is good. Thanks to this, the film feels richer. It is impossible not to mention the visual side of Brazil. Gilliam’s film is a brilliantly, meticulously prepared masterpiece of film form and world-building. Next to Blade Runner, it is the best example of how to create an internal universe without computer support.

The city’s design should be described as something between retro art and futurism. This is visible in both costumes and technology. The computers in Brazil have something of typewriters, small cathode televisions, and magnifying lenses. A mixture truly bizarre — yet one that works. Gilliam combines styles, makes references to the past, and his vision resembles something a futurist of the 1930s or 1940s might imagine when thinking of the 1980s. The 1940s are also palpable in the atmosphere of the film, which at times strongly references noir cinema.

This noir element can also be felt when listening to some parts of Michael Kamen’s excellent soundtrack. The musical layer is very important in the film of the creator of The Fisher King. First of all, it is worth noting that the title of the film was taken from the famous 1930s Brazilian song Aquarela do Brasil, which appears in the work as a leitmotif and was one of the main inspirations for the creation of the screenplay.

In the end, Brazil emerges as one of the best films ever made, which — perhaps with the exception of Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove as a political satire — has no equal. Gilliam’s film possesses everything that is most excellent: surreal imagery, dramatic tension, buffoonish jokes, and a remarkable atmosphere. There is also a bit of action, which may not be directed in the most skillful manner, but that is a minor flaw. Above all, after all these years, Brazil still works — reminding us of the absurdity of our world and the principles by which it is governed — and each new viewing reveals new things we had not noticed before. And that is probably the most important thing.