Director: Terry Gilliam
Writers: Terry Gilliam, Tom Stoppard, Charles McKeown, Charles Alverson
Photography: Roger Pratt
Music: Michael Kamen
Editor: Julian Doyle
Cast: Jonathan Pryce, Katherine Helmond, Kim Greist, Ian Holm, Robert De Niro, Michael Palin, Ian Richardson, Bob Hoskins, Derrick O’Connor, Peter Vaughan, Kathryn Pogson, Jim Broadbent, Sheila Reid
I like the array of genre labels at IMDb for director and cowriter Terry Gilliam’s dystopic SF comedy. Besides the predictable—"dark comedy,” “dystopian sci-fi,” etc.—there is the perfectly apt “steampunk.” That gets to the heart of both what’s good and not so good about Brazil. It is dystopia practically by the numbers and wants it all ways it can get it: nightmares of calcified bureaucracy, ongoing random terrorist bombings, brutal police state, rampant incompetence, nothing mechanical really works, humanity is benumbed and disappearing into plastic surgery for the rich and misery for the rest. The future is crowded, overheated, and overstuffed. The technology is semi-powerful PC computers in Victorian garb. Office workers look at Marx Brothers movies on them when the boss isn’t looking. Yes, steam is visible.
Jonathan Pryce is Sam Lowry, a low-ranking bureaucrat happy to hunker down in his specific situation. He wants no further responsibilities. But his mother (Katherine Helmond) is rich, can’t stand the stigma of his lack of ambition, and keeps pulling strings to get him promoted. He has so far resisted them successfully. At night he has dreams of a woman and then he thinks he sees her in real life. He uses the surveillance power of the state via his job to track her down. She’s Jill Layton (Kim Greist), a truck driver who may or may not have terrorist ties. It doesn’t matter for Sam, who has loved her from afar and now wants to love her up close. What could possibly go wrong?
I like the array of genre labels at IMDb for director and cowriter Terry Gilliam’s dystopic SF comedy. Besides the predictable—"dark comedy,” “dystopian sci-fi,” etc.—there is the perfectly apt “steampunk.” That gets to the heart of both what’s good and not so good about Brazil. It is dystopia practically by the numbers and wants it all ways it can get it: nightmares of calcified bureaucracy, ongoing random terrorist bombings, brutal police state, rampant incompetence, nothing mechanical really works, humanity is benumbed and disappearing into plastic surgery for the rich and misery for the rest. The future is crowded, overheated, and overstuffed. The technology is semi-powerful PC computers in Victorian garb. Office workers look at Marx Brothers movies on them when the boss isn’t looking. Yes, steam is visible.
Jonathan Pryce is Sam Lowry, a low-ranking bureaucrat happy to hunker down in his specific situation. He wants no further responsibilities. But his mother (Katherine Helmond) is rich, can’t stand the stigma of his lack of ambition, and keeps pulling strings to get him promoted. He has so far resisted them successfully. At night he has dreams of a woman and then he thinks he sees her in real life. He uses the surveillance power of the state via his job to track her down. She’s Jill Layton (Kim Greist), a truck driver who may or may not have terrorist ties. It doesn’t matter for Sam, who has loved her from afar and now wants to love her up close. What could possibly go wrong?
In fact, this central love story plot point, spoilers, must be taken at face value, although it is unbelievable and there is zero chemistry between Pryce and Greist. In spite of the stalkerish approach to Jill, it's given as a good relationship in a mad Booji Boy world. Sure, uh-huh. I found myself saying that a lot in my third viewing of the picture the other day. I did not like Brazil the first time I saw it when it was new. Then, in the Netflix DVD 2010s, I looked again and thought I had been too hasty. It was entertaining, and look, there’s Robert De Niro. How cool. But alas, I was less than impressed the other day.
I have long struggled with Gilliam’s aesthetic, start there. His scenes, by design, are dark, dirty, cluttered. They feel filthy—I appreciate how palpable it is, but it is also palpable, like when you realize you must have stepped in shit somewhere because now it’s on the bottom of your shoe. In some cases this can be overcome—I have long thought of The Fisher King as my favorite by Gilliam, because it does exactly that so well, transcends its mise en scene to become something sublime. At least, that is, as I recall. I should note it has been some time since I’ve seen The Fisher King.
To be sure, the dystopic steampunk vision of the future in Brazil is thoroughly imagined, inhabiting every frame. I suspect that, more than anything, is what gets it into the top 300 best movies of all time on the big list at They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They? Gilliam’s only other placement in that 1,000 is a co-credit with Terry Jones for 1975’s Monty Python and the Holy Grail (at #891). I followed the syndicated Monty Python’s Flying Circus with great pleasure in the ‘70s, though I have to say with some sadness that it is too often lost on me now. No, I don’t think it was the dope I was smoking back then. Absurdism so boldly, baldly indulged felt more fresh then, or something. Gilliam onscreen was never particularly a favorite of mine among the troupe, but he had a lot to do with the production, getting his director’s chops. He feels analogous to me with Keith Moon.
He has indeed turned out to be an original—a visionary, even. But it appears for me he is a matter of mood. Many of his pictures have hit me different ways on separate viewings. Brazil is just the case at hand. I went two ways on The Adventures of Baron Munchausen and 12 Monkeys. I despised, to be frank, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas—maybe I owe myself another look there? I don’t know. I haven’t seen anything he’s done since, and I’m afraid the latest look at Brazil is not making me inclined for any catch-up rounds.
I would also like to register a complaint here, because I don’t know anywhere else to do it. It is not remotely related to Gilliam. It is what I call “gist subtitles.” I routinely flip on subtitles for most movies I look at whenever I can. Live theaters are of course out of the question, though I think some multiplexes offer special screenings. Anyway, it’s partly a matter of some hearing loss on my part, partly a matter of eating chips, and partly a matter of mumbling in the sound design of some pictures, or sometimes accents I can’t easily make out. My expectation always, a reasonable one, is for a literal transcription of the words spoken. It makes it all more transparent for me. But with gist subtitles the transcriber is too—I’m just going to call it—lazy to type all the words (in fairness, perhaps too rushed) and instead inserts only the gist of what’s said. It’s a really terrible experience, taking me out of the picture practically every time. In fact, it usually just makes me shut them off and struggle along for myself with what I pick up. Certainly I have to put the chips away. Hmph. Gist subtitles are what you get with the version of Brazil on Amazon Prime. Boo, hiss!
I have long struggled with Gilliam’s aesthetic, start there. His scenes, by design, are dark, dirty, cluttered. They feel filthy—I appreciate how palpable it is, but it is also palpable, like when you realize you must have stepped in shit somewhere because now it’s on the bottom of your shoe. In some cases this can be overcome—I have long thought of The Fisher King as my favorite by Gilliam, because it does exactly that so well, transcends its mise en scene to become something sublime. At least, that is, as I recall. I should note it has been some time since I’ve seen The Fisher King.
To be sure, the dystopic steampunk vision of the future in Brazil is thoroughly imagined, inhabiting every frame. I suspect that, more than anything, is what gets it into the top 300 best movies of all time on the big list at They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They? Gilliam’s only other placement in that 1,000 is a co-credit with Terry Jones for 1975’s Monty Python and the Holy Grail (at #891). I followed the syndicated Monty Python’s Flying Circus with great pleasure in the ‘70s, though I have to say with some sadness that it is too often lost on me now. No, I don’t think it was the dope I was smoking back then. Absurdism so boldly, baldly indulged felt more fresh then, or something. Gilliam onscreen was never particularly a favorite of mine among the troupe, but he had a lot to do with the production, getting his director’s chops. He feels analogous to me with Keith Moon.
He has indeed turned out to be an original—a visionary, even. But it appears for me he is a matter of mood. Many of his pictures have hit me different ways on separate viewings. Brazil is just the case at hand. I went two ways on The Adventures of Baron Munchausen and 12 Monkeys. I despised, to be frank, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas—maybe I owe myself another look there? I don’t know. I haven’t seen anything he’s done since, and I’m afraid the latest look at Brazil is not making me inclined for any catch-up rounds.
I would also like to register a complaint here, because I don’t know anywhere else to do it. It is not remotely related to Gilliam. It is what I call “gist subtitles.” I routinely flip on subtitles for most movies I look at whenever I can. Live theaters are of course out of the question, though I think some multiplexes offer special screenings. Anyway, it’s partly a matter of some hearing loss on my part, partly a matter of eating chips, and partly a matter of mumbling in the sound design of some pictures, or sometimes accents I can’t easily make out. My expectation always, a reasonable one, is for a literal transcription of the words spoken. It makes it all more transparent for me. But with gist subtitles the transcriber is too—I’m just going to call it—lazy to type all the words (in fairness, perhaps too rushed) and instead inserts only the gist of what’s said. It’s a really terrible experience, taking me out of the picture practically every time. In fact, it usually just makes me shut them off and struggle along for myself with what I pick up. Certainly I have to put the chips away. Hmph. Gist subtitles are what you get with the version of Brazil on Amazon Prime. Boo, hiss!
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