Brazil
As much as I respect, and kind of love, Terry Gilliam as a filmmaker, I must admit that “Brazil” alludes my deepest appreciation of his work. I am roughly 15-20 years removed from my last viewing of his 1985 fantasy, and while I admire it more than I did then, I don’t find it quite as engrossing as “The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus,” “12 Monkeys” or “The Fisher King.” But man, that Michael Kamen score. That’s worth watching the film for alone.
The film takes place “sometime in the late 20th Century,” in a city where bureaucracy is run amok, and the slightest error by said bureaucracy can lead to terrible consequences when it comes to government trying to reign in terrorist attacks. At one government building, for example, someone swats a fly on their ceiling, and the fly gets stuck in his typewriter, leading to the accidental incarceration, and death, of a husband and father named Buttle, rather than suspected terrorist Tuttle. Thrust into this drama is Sam Lowry (Jonathan Pryce), a drone from Records who dreams of saving a young woman and flying high in the sky away from the life he lives day in and day out. When he is sent to deliver a check to the newly-widowed Mrs. Buttle, Sam sees the girl in his dreams (Jill Layton, the Buttles’s upstairs neighbor, and played by Kim Greist), and his life becomes complicated with love, responsibility, and adventure when he tries to find her.
Gilliam and Universal famously battled it out in the press over “Brazil,” with a much shorter cut intended for release before Gilliam took his intended cut, and screened it for the Los Angeles Film Critics, who gave it Best Picture of the year, and forced Universal’s hand to releasing his cut. I’ve only seen Gilliam’s intended cut, although I’m certainly curious about Universal’s famous “Love Conquers All” version of the film; both are available courtesy The Criterion Collection, although I’ve never bought it because I’ve never really loved Gilliam’s film. (For the record: I’m fairly certain I would hate the “Love Conquers All” version, and consider it a curiosity more than anything.) As with Ridley Scott’s “Blade Runner,” this is a seminal science-fiction film from the ’80s that has always felt at arm’s length with me- even after a couple of decades of warming up to Gilliam’s fascinating idiosyncrasies as a director, “Brazil” feels visually rich, but emotionally doesn’t land with me. I feel as though it IS too long, but I struggle with the length from a pacing concern more than I do the film’s content- I don’t think there’s a single scene that I would take out, but momentum seems to start and stop at random throughout the film, with Gilliam taking time for Monty Python-esque moments of absurdist humor rather than keeping the story going. I love that absurdist humor (whenever fellow Python Michael Palin is on-screen as Jack Lint, or Kathryn Helmond as Lowry’s plastic surgery-obsessed mother, I’m game), but I feel like Gilliam indulges too much in it, at times, rather than making sure the film keeps moving. I think that discipline came into focus later with “12 Monkeys” and “The Fisher King,” when he was dealing with other people’s material, but he doesn’t really have it here.
I don’t know that pacing is my only issue with the film, though upon rewatching it, that was the main one I took away from it. The screenplay by Gilliam, Tom Stoppard and Charles McKeown has some satirical points to make about consumerism; the “nanny state” of soul-crushing bureaucracy; nepotism (Lowry’s mother gets him his promotion, despite his wishes not to take it), and authoritarian government that oppresses and watches over the masses, Orwell-style, but it doesn’t feel focused enough to create a coherent through line between all of these ideas. I think part of the issue is that Gilliam’s story starts not with Lowry but with the bureaucracy- his first moments are about setting up the world (which plenty of filmmakers do), but Lowry is a very passive protagonist at the start, and he doesn’t really actively engage with the story until he sees Jill. That’s a tough thing for a movie that is very dependent on the emotional journey of a man trapped by his circumstances, but whom wants to be free in his life. As with “Blade Runner,” it’s the emotional connection with the story that doesn’t land with me, and it’s kind of frustrating. I love the world Gilliam sets up and the darkly funny tone of the film, but it feels slightly at a distance from me.
I’ve mentioned “Blade Runner” twice now when discussing “Brazil,” and it’s an apt comparison. Like its 1982 predecessor, Gilliam’s film is a technical marvel that just sucks you into the world Gilliam establishes even if the story doesn’t. Norman Garwood’s production design has been as influential as “Blade Runner” was in establishing a cinematic vision of a dystopian world overrun by consumerism for the modern era, and it’s impossible not to be in awe of how clearly Gilliam sees this world with his cinematographer, Roger Pratt. It’s easy to see why people have been so transported by the film over the years, and Gilliam continues to march to the beat of his own drummer. With a backing orchestra of actors in Pryce, Robert DeNiro (as Tuttle, an air conditioning repairman/terrorist), Palin, Helmond, Jim Broadbent, Bob Hoskins and Ian Holm adding distinctive personalities to the film, and an all-time great score by Kamen literally backing the film, Gilliam has so many pieces in place I can’t help but enjoy. Unfortunately, his film’s lack of focus can’t help but leave me feeling empty at the end of it all.
