Lsogn
10-12-2009, 07:40 PM
Thrown into a swirling vortex of confusion, viewers of “Brazil” by Director Terry Gilliam are forced to navigate the oftentimes terrifying boundaries between waking and dreaming, self and state, impulse and restraint, freedom and servitude and ultimately--falsehoods and truth. For 142 anxiety producing minutes, Gilliam assaults the audience with a stream of fractured visuals and a disjointed progression of events in the life and mind of Sam Lowry, a young man entrenched in a monotonous career which is, itself, part of a larger repressive and totalitarian society.
How “Brazil” presents itself to viewers is one distinct way Gilliam’s satirical creation deviates from other films. “Brazil” relies on a heavy-handed use of imagery and sound to push the film forward. Yes, there is dialogue between the characters, but it is often voiced in a clipped and staccato form, exuding more cliché than genuine sincerity. There are limited instances of dynamic and organically created conversational exchanges between Lowry and his coworkers, with his mother, Ida, or even with Jill, the object of love within his visions and varying states of consciousness. For example, early in the film, Lowry’s mother asks him, “...hopes, wishes, dreams? You must want something?” Lowry replies, “No, not even dreams.”
Whether he actually wants his dreams and what he discovers in them or not, it is precisely within this realm that Lowry finds an escape from the tyranny “...and nightmare of the day to day existence” of his life. Roughly ten minutes into “Brazil” the question is raised, “Has anybody seen Sam Lowry?” This is when Lowry first surfaces and the answer is found in visual footage and not through the exchange of spoken dialogue. Adorning wings and taking flight upward through nebulous clouds, Lowry escapes the gravitational tug of earthbound mortals. Larger than life, Lowry’s quest: to find and rescue the archetypal blonde goddess of his dreams. In the byzantine layers of his mind he is free, yet at the same time his portrayed existence remains complicated.
Saying that visual reality is emphasized over dialogue doesn’t mean to imply that words themselves are not important. Quite the contrary--words are scattered throughout “Brazil” in written format on posters lining office walls, in shopping plazas and along busy streets. “Brazil” is visual, nonverbal--yet literate. Multiple examples of the written word are visible to the observant viewer. The most common and recurring poster image is of a “Norman Rockwellian” family on a car trip with the words: “Happiness--We’re all in this together.” A scene near the end of “Brazil” reveals a cross-over between the visual and the verbal “realities” of the film. After Tuttle switches around the ducts in Lowry’s apartment, Lowry peers through a window to see what happens to the workers inside. Their biohazard suits fill with brown liquid and Lowry exclaims, “Shit!” Tuttle responds with a laugh, “We’re all in it together, kid!”
Other examples of written phrases found in “Brazil” include: Suspicion Breeds Confidence, The Truth Shall Make You Free, Luxury Without Fear, Do Not Suspect A Friend--Report Him, Away Day Travel, Be Safe--Be Suspicious, Who Can You Trust? and Utopia Airways. In addition, there are reminders scattered throughout to: Keep The City Tidy. The pacing of these words and phrases in “Brazil” is similar to the Burma Shave advertising signs extending across the roadways of America in earlier decades. Besides being observable on posters, words are also spontaneously written by characters within the film. For example, when Lowry writes “I Love You” to Jill on the windshield while she is driving.
When compared to the elaborately constructed settings of this film, written words are just one small piece of the visual landscape of “Brazil.” In scene after scene, viewers are confronted with a very chaotic and disjointed reality that is filled with wires and machines that never function correctly. This is especially true with the ornate duct systems found in homes and offices which appear at times to take on a life of their own. Lowry’s apartment becomes increasingly filled with wires and mechanical mishaps and represents how physically and mentally stuck he is in this mediated and highly monitored environment. Other important features of the visual design of “Brazil” are all the instances where environments are designed to emphasize the diminishing importance of the individual such as in the cavernous office of drone-like workers and in Lowry’s torture scene at the end where his helpless insignificance is overemphasized by the engulfing walls.
For viewers of “Brazil,” confusion is part of the visceral response to the unfolding images, sounds, dialogues and actions on the screen. Sitting in suspended and jaw-dropping disbelief, experiencing one jolt of Red Bull visual after another, we feel what Lowry feels as he reels from the continuous bombardment of the multiple layers of reality in which he lives. Sometimes his gut-wrenching response is externally induced from a poster on a wall, the sudden falling through the ceiling of terrorists or the age-defying changes on his mother’s face. Other times the source of the attack comes from within the deep synapses of his own mind when he grapples with the confusing authenticity of his visions and various states of wakefulness and dreaming. At issue throughout “Brazil” is the tug and pull of arguments and rhetoric coming at us and whether we are persuaded and swept away by them or remain immune to their powerful hold.
How “Brazil” presents itself to viewers is one distinct way Gilliam’s satirical creation deviates from other films. “Brazil” relies on a heavy-handed use of imagery and sound to push the film forward. Yes, there is dialogue between the characters, but it is often voiced in a clipped and staccato form, exuding more cliché than genuine sincerity. There are limited instances of dynamic and organically created conversational exchanges between Lowry and his coworkers, with his mother, Ida, or even with Jill, the object of love within his visions and varying states of consciousness. For example, early in the film, Lowry’s mother asks him, “...hopes, wishes, dreams? You must want something?” Lowry replies, “No, not even dreams.”
Whether he actually wants his dreams and what he discovers in them or not, it is precisely within this realm that Lowry finds an escape from the tyranny “...and nightmare of the day to day existence” of his life. Roughly ten minutes into “Brazil” the question is raised, “Has anybody seen Sam Lowry?” This is when Lowry first surfaces and the answer is found in visual footage and not through the exchange of spoken dialogue. Adorning wings and taking flight upward through nebulous clouds, Lowry escapes the gravitational tug of earthbound mortals. Larger than life, Lowry’s quest: to find and rescue the archetypal blonde goddess of his dreams. In the byzantine layers of his mind he is free, yet at the same time his portrayed existence remains complicated.
Saying that visual reality is emphasized over dialogue doesn’t mean to imply that words themselves are not important. Quite the contrary--words are scattered throughout “Brazil” in written format on posters lining office walls, in shopping plazas and along busy streets. “Brazil” is visual, nonverbal--yet literate. Multiple examples of the written word are visible to the observant viewer. The most common and recurring poster image is of a “Norman Rockwellian” family on a car trip with the words: “Happiness--We’re all in this together.” A scene near the end of “Brazil” reveals a cross-over between the visual and the verbal “realities” of the film. After Tuttle switches around the ducts in Lowry’s apartment, Lowry peers through a window to see what happens to the workers inside. Their biohazard suits fill with brown liquid and Lowry exclaims, “Shit!” Tuttle responds with a laugh, “We’re all in it together, kid!”
Other examples of written phrases found in “Brazil” include: Suspicion Breeds Confidence, The Truth Shall Make You Free, Luxury Without Fear, Do Not Suspect A Friend--Report Him, Away Day Travel, Be Safe--Be Suspicious, Who Can You Trust? and Utopia Airways. In addition, there are reminders scattered throughout to: Keep The City Tidy. The pacing of these words and phrases in “Brazil” is similar to the Burma Shave advertising signs extending across the roadways of America in earlier decades. Besides being observable on posters, words are also spontaneously written by characters within the film. For example, when Lowry writes “I Love You” to Jill on the windshield while she is driving.
When compared to the elaborately constructed settings of this film, written words are just one small piece of the visual landscape of “Brazil.” In scene after scene, viewers are confronted with a very chaotic and disjointed reality that is filled with wires and machines that never function correctly. This is especially true with the ornate duct systems found in homes and offices which appear at times to take on a life of their own. Lowry’s apartment becomes increasingly filled with wires and mechanical mishaps and represents how physically and mentally stuck he is in this mediated and highly monitored environment. Other important features of the visual design of “Brazil” are all the instances where environments are designed to emphasize the diminishing importance of the individual such as in the cavernous office of drone-like workers and in Lowry’s torture scene at the end where his helpless insignificance is overemphasized by the engulfing walls.
For viewers of “Brazil,” confusion is part of the visceral response to the unfolding images, sounds, dialogues and actions on the screen. Sitting in suspended and jaw-dropping disbelief, experiencing one jolt of Red Bull visual after another, we feel what Lowry feels as he reels from the continuous bombardment of the multiple layers of reality in which he lives. Sometimes his gut-wrenching response is externally induced from a poster on a wall, the sudden falling through the ceiling of terrorists or the age-defying changes on his mother’s face. Other times the source of the attack comes from within the deep synapses of his own mind when he grapples with the confusing authenticity of his visions and various states of wakefulness and dreaming. At issue throughout “Brazil” is the tug and pull of arguments and rhetoric coming at us and whether we are persuaded and swept away by them or remain immune to their powerful hold.