Film Review: BACURAU
BACURAU © Victor Jucá
As one of the lost souls whose life blood is films, the Corona Virus shutdown has threatened to turn me into an aimless zombie - stretching the smallest tasks into time-filling projects.
There are plusses and minuses obviously. When something goes awry, there is time to deal with it instead of just letting it go until it turns into a monster of neglect. And filling the void by watching old overlooked films is still only partially adequate if one is programmed to review a new film each week. No one wants to read about a three or four-year old film. And, of course there are always Netflix and Amazon new releases. But I am sufficiently old-fashioned to feel that it is not quite the same. Therefore, it felt like an answered prayer to discover Lincoln Center taking the bold and innovative move to sell tickets to the films which would have currently been in the theatre to make them available for home viewing. Those who want to watch them online can buy a ticket online and have access for five days. This is both good for the theatre and good for the films. Also good for those of us who hunger and thirst for the latest and best. It is totally brilliant. Bravo.
BACURAU © Victor Jucá
Bacurau was included in the 57th NY Film Festival. This hard to categorize film is so densely packed with surreal incidents, indelible characters, and a delivery method which engages so completely because nothing is given away. Bizarre things just keep happening and there is no omniscient point of view for the viewer. For most of the film, the audience is as much in the dark as the villagers of Bacurau, a remote town in the north-eastern Sertão, the Brazilian outback. The townspeople of Bacurao, descendents of escaped slaves, are insular and mistrustful of outsiders and anything resembling modernization, fearing exploitation. They are not wrong, given the politics of the land under President Bolsonaro. Although their lives are primitive and hardscrabble they are nobody’s fools. They have all got cell phones and are acutely aware of what is going on in the wider world.
BACURAU © Victor Jucá
The threat to their own existence is something harder to fathom. Their village is so remote that every arrival is a cause for great curiosity. The only regular deliveries are coffin deliveries and the water truck. This is because the dam controlling their water has been blocked for months with no explanation and no respite from the government, and the people are being mysteriously picked off and brutally killed. There is a palpable sense of being under siege.
They have had to take matters into their own hands to bootleg the water which is rightfully theirs. They have become artfully cagey at avoiding scrutiny all the while developing clever diversionary tactics and guerilla-style actions.
BACURAU © Victor Jucá
Their early warning system is so effective that they can disappear within minutes when the local corrupt politician comes to town. Among the disturbing things that bring things to a head is the loss of all satellite communication and the subsequent disappearance of Bacurau from Google Maps. The arrival of a pair of absurdly outfitted biker tourists who cruise arrogantly into town, followed by the grisly murder of a farmer and his family, who owns a herd of horses, who then stampede through the town, galvanizes the villagers for all out war.
BACURAU © Victor Jucá
The enemy is finally revealed when we follow a drone shaped like a flying saucer which is relaying information to a demented group of American mercenaries holed up near the town. They are a blood thirsty bunch of white-nationalists, armed to the teeth and following orders from an older charismatic German/American leader (Udo Keir). Their prey is the villagers of Bacurau. They get points for every “kill”. There no stated purpose for their targeting of these villagers except perhaps that they seem expendable and good for “sport” killing.
BACURAU © Victor Jucá
These nasty murderers have seriously underestimated the Bacurauans, who have a secret weapon. Their revered leader and teacher hands them each a tiny pellet which is a powerful psychotropic, which renders them fearless and hyper-focused. Like so many isolated communities with tribal affinities, they have unorthodox ways of communicating and protecting themselves. They repatriate a notorious member of their village, a dangerous drag-queen named Lunga, to lead them into battle. As the dénouement ensues, many issues are revealed. The film deals with racism, income equality, government and corporate corruption in a visceral way. The violence of the second half verges on Tarantino territory.
BACURAU © Victor Jucá
The first half reminded me very much of Alejandro Jodorowski with a whole crew of amazingly motley characters. Dr. Domingas, played by an almost unrecognizable Sonia Braga, is superb as the village witch doctor, with heightened insights and wisdom. There is a marvelous guitar player who dresses like a cross between a Mariachi and Elvis and serves as the occasional plot narrator. The Bacaurauns are a sui generis, very colorful lot and one cannot help but empathize with them. They seem to have won the battle. But it is doubtful they will win the war. It is a wonderful, well directed, well acted, beautifully filmed and well-told story.
