The movie 'Brazil' was written and directed by the rather wonderful Terry Gilliam (of Monty Python fame). It deals with a futuristic nightmare world (a little like a cross between George Orwell's 1984 and Ridley Scott's Blade Runner) with unique and ghastly humour.It's in my personal top 5 movies of all time, nestled next to the works of the magnificent Coen Brothers and possibly Apocalypse Now.Terry Gilliam later made The Fisher King, starring the highly bankable Robin Williams, which seemed to me to be a more commercialised remake of the style of Brazil.
Another noteworthy aspect of this uber stylish film is that it has been massively plundered by advertising creatives (see oxymoron).During the late eighties and early nineties (in Britain at least), I remember seeing at least five different TV commercials that were direct and blatent copies of scenes from this movie.One example that springs to mind is the brilliant scene where Harry Tuttle (the freedom fighter played by Robert De Niro) is finally killed by the state, being smothered and then absorbed by flying litter (it's hard to describe - just see the movie!), which was ripped off by Barclays, a British bank.
This film is an absolute, cast-iron MUST SEE
(thanks to CodeMaster and e-anorexia for the title and language correction)
Brazil Where hearts were entertaining June We stood beneath an amber moon And softly murmured, "Someday soon." We kissed And clung together Then Tomorrow was another day The morning found us miles away With still a million things to say Now When twilight dims the skies above Recalling thrills of our love There's one thing that I'm certain of: Return I will to old Brazil.
There you have it, folks. Hope, desperation, love, and redemption, all in a simple, beautiful little song. Some of the finest artists in the world (and, admittedly, some mediocre ones as well) have honored this song's simple complexity. They just don't write 'em like this anymore. I've heard this song in a variety of styles, from shoegazer to techno to disco to the more traditional jazz or samba versions.
Brazil (the movie) is named after the song, and has many thematic parallels with the tune, chiefly notable in how the score is constructed (most of the music in the film is a reinterpretation of the base melody of 'Brazil' through different instruments or moods). Besides, 'Brazil' makes a better title than the original 'Ministry of Terror'.
Brazil - 1985 (DVD version release: 1999) - Director: the indefatigable Terry Gilliam
Running Time: 142 minutes. Color. Not Rated.
A three DVD set, of which the Special Features include:
Dolby Digital surround sound, 1.85:1 aspect ratio.
Brazil is my favorite movie, and this amazing set from Criterion fully demonstrates the power and necessity of this film. The production disc is enveloping, providing some cool facts about the film (it was originally entitled "Ministry of Terror") and some nifty footage of unused special effects, like a city of eyeballs.
The film itself is, of course, awe-inducing. A faithful transfer provides Gilliam's vision with ferocious clarity.
On the morbid curiosity end of the spectrum, a butchered, made for TV version is also included. This abomination cuts forty-eight minutes from the definitive version of the film, attempting to dumb down the work into a greyish paste fit for mass consumption. Thankfully, it flubbed.
This collection sets the standards for DVD releases. Brazil has its detractors, but it's hard not to be impressed by this set.
Back to DVD Reviews...
RE: the movie, not the sovereign nation
Accept this a commentary, or simply a related fact: Brazil was one of Timothy McVeigh's two favorite movies. The other was Red Dawn. He said that Red Dawn was the favorite of his young adulthood, but as he got older, he came to believe Brazil was a closer to the truth of the world.
Taken from David S. Cowen's website at http://www.trond.com/brazil/
During the movie, tons of propaganda signs appear on the walls. Here is an almost complete list of them:
"The Truth Shall Make You Free" - on a statue. "Information - The Key To Prosperity. Ministry Of Information" - sign above security stall. "Help The Ministry Of Information Help You" - poster on wall. "Be Safe: Be Suspicious" - sign on wall. "Loose Talk Is Noose Talk" - poster on the wall of the computer room "Suspicion Breeds Confidence" - sign. "Happiness: We're all in it together" - Billboard "Mellowfields. Top Security Holiday Camps. Luxury without fear. Fun without suspicion. Relax in a panic free atmosphere." - advert on wall above children playing. "Reality" - graffiti on wall. "Shangorilla Towers" - Shangri-la tower's defaced sign. "DO NOT FOLD, STAPLE, MUTILATE" - stencilled on concrete wall inside. "Trust in haste, Regret at leisure" - poster on wall. "Don't suspect a friend, report him" - poster on wall "Who can you trust?" - poster on wall. "Mind that parcel. Eagle eyes can save a life." - poster on wall. "Power today. Pleasure tomorrow." - poster seen when the house gets lifted. "Consumers for Christ" - banner carried by band in the mall. "Utopia Railways" - ad in the street when Sam blows up the building. "Keep your city tidy" - sign on the trash can.
The lyrics of the singing telegram
Mrs. Ida Lowry requests the pleasure of your company at her apartment tonight, from eight thirty to midnight to celebrate the completion of her recent cosmetic surgery The guest of honor will be Mr. Conrad Helpmann, Dep. Under Minister of State for Public Information, R.S.V.P. by singing telegram
The lyrics of the theme song, Brazil, sung by Kate Bush
Brazil... Where hearts were entertaining June We stood beneath an amber moon And softly murmured someday soon... We kissed... And clung together Then...
Tomorrow was another day The morning found me miles away With still a million things to say Now...
When twilight dims the skies above Recalling thrills of our love There's one thing I'm certain of Return... I will... to old... BRAZIL.
Random funny quotes
Arresting Officer: "This is your receipt for your husband...and this is my receipt for your receipt."
Charlie, Department of Works: "Bloody typical, they've gone back to metric without telling us."
Mrs. Buttle: "What have you done with his body?"
Sam: "Yes, I always used to wonder if she wore falsies. False ears..."
Warren: "An empty desk is an efficient desk!"
Dr. Lewis Jaffe: "Faces are a doddle compared to tits and ass. No hairline."
Spoor: "All you've got to do is blow your nose and it's fixed, in't it?"
Jill: "Care for a little necrophilia?. . .Hmmm?"
I feel a separate write up must be included here for the national soccer team of Brazil. Yellow jersey, blue shorts, white socks. For some of us who spent the best part of our childhood attempting to kick a bit of pigskin between two markers, the word "Brazil" instantly conjures up an ineffable mixture of meaning and emotion. The national side is emblematic of beauty, truth, all that good stuff. It is skill. It is Art. It is impossibly gifted young men - too cool to even have surnames - making oranges dance in the air for infinity on slum streetcorners with the merest flicks of foot, heel, instep, outstep, so that the fruit seems to become the great globe itself, and the footballer the ultimate conjurer and artist, the laughing God, making it all happen. These same young men were to don the famous yellow and strut their stuff against the best the rest of the word could offer. Dance, feign, create!
Consider Barnsley FC. This small club representing the windswept, rainy town of Barnsley spent a historic, solitary season (1997/1998) at the bottom of England's Premiership league before being duly booted back down to a lower division. The euphoria of their fans, however, was inextinguishable throughout. And what did they sing at matches? "It's just like watching Brazil! BRAA-ZIL!"
For some of us, Brazil expresses something about our yearning for the higher things, like oneness with God, or Final Cut Pro. They give the lie to the grinding efficiency of a team like West Germany, whose successes only served to poison us with begrudgery. The Brazilians are exotic. The Brazilians are from South America. In a word, the Brazilians are about flair.
'Brazil' is a rolecall of the Impossibly Cool. They were called Zico and Garrincha. They were called Socrates. (Socrates!) They were called Jairzinho. And, of course, they were simply called Pelé, like a bell ringing inside your soul.
The 1970 World Cup encapsulates all that mythos. I wasn't born in 1970; I know the tournament only through television footage after the fact, which is itself electrifying enough. This was the first World Cup in colour: for those watching on TV at the time, it must have seemed like footballing aliens from the planet Genius had landed among them. Watch the yellow and blue blazing across the green as the sun empathetically blazes down like God's own spotlight. See the haze surrounding pitch enfog the opposition. Observe the Brazilian team themselves shimmering brilliantly, doing things with a ball that should be impossible at the highest level of the game. Certainly, those things were impossible in the Green beside where I lived, as numerous attempts at lobbing the 'keeper, dummying the 'keeper, and pushing the ball into empty space in the anticipation of a blistering strike at goal, will all attest.
That last one... ah, yes. The Alberto Goal.
The television pictures show Pelé moving towards the opposition's box. The defenders back away and back away. In the parlance, they stand off him. They know how good he his. You know how good he is. The man born Edson Arantes do Nascimento is moving now more and more towards the centre of the pitch. He'll take them on! He'll beat them! He'll shoot from where he's standing! The backs can stand off no longer, they begin to try to hold their ground, tense. The tackle it is their profession to time will surely come soon.
Still, Pelé is under no real pressure when suddenly, inexplicably, and (I swear it!) without even a glance, Pelé pushes the ball out to his right with the outside of his right boot. Into. Completely. Empty. Space. There is no one there. Time slows down, as if to account for the befuddled workings of your own brain. What?? Why did?? The attack is going to fizzle out like this? Alberto. Fast. Like a bullet. He comes from nowhere: screams gloriously into the frame and with his first touch sends the ball like death and taxes into the net.
You'll never see anything like it. Brazil.
***
In the aftermath, you'll laugh, because we always laugh at recognition of supertruth, that sneaks up and blindsides us beautifully.
Shots of football magic from '70. On the soundtrack, Primal Scream play Slip Inside This House. Deranged samba. Individual instruments groove and mesh around each other; once a bar, on a loop, is an exclamation and a laugh. The last shot is in slow-mo, the last sample says, "We blew their minds." True? Or did I dream it?
Of course, everything changes. Brazil don't always play like poets of the game. They are capable of cynicism; they have, for instance, played for penalties on occasion. Unthinkably, they may not even qualify for Japan/Korea 2002. In any case, there is a move afoot to have the club game surpass the national in importance, where the teams are assembled not by accident of birth, but rather purchased with big money, and sent out to make it back. Even my idolatry was already something of an inheritance, but kids today are more likely to follow the individual footballers at the top of the money market: Rivaldo, the uni-monikered Brazilian, yes - but also Del Piero, Figo, Beckham, and (the admittedly cool) Zinedine Zidane. Still, it is hard to envisage a club competition ever inducing the same mass mania in its supporters as does the World Cup.
I have a friend... Bill. Bill and I talk about football: identity, class, childhood, social shortcuts, the relationship of son and father, even. Sometimes just football. We both love Brazil. During Italia '90, Bill announced that he had discovered why Brazil played the best football. It was because they had the whitest socks. But why, Bill, do they have the whitest socks? Because beautiful Brazilian girls wash them for them. And why, Bill, (thisdayandageGoddamn&etc.) would these girls do such a thing? Simple. Because Brazil play the best football.
It does not always pay to argue with Bill. Besides, when the camera pans to the crowd when Brazil are playing, there are indeed always women of surpassing beauty, minimally decked out in those colours of which I am already so fond.
Just call me Haru.
Multiple Winners of The World Cup:
Brazil 5 (1958, 1962, 1970, 1994, 2002) W. Germany 3 (1954, 1974, 1990) Italy 3 (1934, 1938, 1982) Argentina 2 (1978, 1986) Uruguay 2 (1930, 1950)
Brazil is the largest country in the South American continent, with an area of 8,511,965 sq km. The country's capital is Brasilia, and other important cities include Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo. The Amazon rainforest covers the northern half of the country, and Brazil has large uranium reserves. It also benefits from hydroelectric power in the form of the Itaipu and Tucurin dams.
Brazil was first settled around 8000 BC, and European explorers from Spain and Portugal arrived in 1500. The new territories,known as Vera Cruz (True Cross), had been allocated to Portugal by the Treaty of Tordesillas in 1494.
Jesuits from Sao Paulo began converting the indigenous natives to Christianity in 1554. The country's mineral wealth became apparent when gold was discovered in 1694 and 1718, and diamonds in 1699. Native Indians were used as slaves in the mines.
Spanish claims to Brazil were ended by treaty in 1777, and Spain was given lands in Uruguay. The Portuguese King John VI came to Rio in 1808 when Portugal was occupied by Napoleonic troops. In 1815 Brazil became a kingdom associated to Portugal, and in 1820 John VI's son Dom Pedro became regent. He became emperor of Brazil in 1822 when he accepted Brazil's proclamation of independence. His son, Pedro II, helped expand Brazil's economy and coffee trade, granting universal suffrage and abolishing slavery. The authoritarian style of Pedro II proved to be his downfall, however, and a military-led revolution led to the proclamation of a republic in 1889.
The new constitution of 1891 established Brazil as a secular, federal, and democratic state. The country's entry into World War I in 1914 on the side of the Allies bolstered its production of wheat and rubber, making it a powerful force in Latin America. Production of rubber by south-east Asian countries, the world economic crisis of 1929, and falling coffee prices in 1930 led to recession and dictatorship under Getulio Vargas. Vargas committed suicide in 1954.
A new capital was officially founded at Brasilia in 1960, and in 1964 the military took control. Political parties were suppressed in favour of ARENA (National Renewal Alliance), the official party. Free elections did not return until 1982. Universal suffrage continued to be suppressed by the military. Democracy was eventually restored by Jose Sarney in 1988. In 1989 Fernando Collor was elected president, but he was accused of corruption in 1992 and 1993, and Fernando Henrique Cardoso became president in 1994.
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