Terra em Transe

Following his fascinating portrayal of outlaw Antonio das Mortes and the dying days of banditry, Black God, White Devil (1964), Brazilian director Glauber Rocha - only 28 at the time - made the dazzling, deliberately contradictory and admittedly plodding Entranced Earth, a kaleidoscopic satire of politics in Latin America and the mad dictators who seemed to delight their people only to oppress them once elected. Filmed with the free-styling vigour of the French New Wave, Entranced Earth is often exhausting but consistently breathtaking.

Told through the eyes of poet and journalist Paulo Martins (Jardel Filho), we first encounter him pleading angrily with governor Felipe Vieira (Jose Lewgoy) to fight back in the midst of a social uprising against his administration. We flash back to learn that they were once friends, with Paulo offering his support during the election process, only to see the the promises Vieira campaigned on go out the window as the people go hungry. Vieira's political opponent, conservative Porfirio Diaz (Paulo Autran), was also once Paulo's friend, and has spent his life in luxury away from public view until a chance to rule turns him into a raving, yet highly charismatic, lunatic.

Entranced Earth is quite a confusing film. It strides along shifting back-and-forth in time and between various characters, and the kinetic, in-your-face camera-work makes it difficult at times to decipher just what the hell is going on. As a time capsule and a piece of experimental film-making, it is fascinating and deserves to have each of its frames pulled apart and analysed. It's a leftist view that is without any overt political statements, and instead seems to set out to capture the political counter-culture of the 1960's (or the demise of it). By setting it in the fictional country of Eldorado, Glauber avoids commenting on any country in particular, but is clearly making a statement about Latin America. It may leave you confused and worn- out by the end, but it's political cinema with both an edge and a sense of humour, and takes its technical influences from the greats of world cinema.

While watching this, I kept on going back and forth between a 4 and a 4.5 before I finally settled on a 4.5. Like Rocha's "Black God, White Devil", which I watched a year or two ago, I didn't quite follow everything which went on and somewhat struggled to keep up with the plot. The more of this I watched, however, the more impressed I was with various stylistic touches such as the narration taking on a ghostly feel (the camerawork helps in that regard), various scenes appearing to occur in between Paulo's head and reality, and the film maintaining a dream-like atmosphere at numerous points. The film also captures the blindness of the masses towards accepting the false promises of political figures, and how this blind faith is a pattern which repeats itself over and over again. Thematically, it's interesting, but stylistically, it hits a number of my sweet spots really well and I definitely intend on rewatching it later this year to see if my appreciation of it goes up or down.

"Terra em Transe" (in Portuguese, "Terra" means "Land"; "Transe" has quite some meanings, like "Anguish", "Risk", "Trance", "Transience") is Glauber Rocha's most important film along with his earlier masterpiece "Deus e o Diabo na Terra do Sol" (1964). In "Terra", we see best his cinematic assets (boldness, experimentalism, confrontational non-conformity, red-blooded vibrancy, great and original visual style) and faults (grandiloquence, contradictoriness, verbosity, technical shortages). The main character of the film is his own country, Brazil, and by extension Latin America, amalgamated into the fictional country of Eldorado (the mythical South American dreamland pursued by European explorers in the 16th and 17th centuries).

The films uses avant-garde, fragmented, non-chronological narration and editing because we are witnessing the random thoughts and memories of a dying man (though this is not clear until half-way into the film). That man is the "Artist", Paulo Martins (Jardel Filho at his best), a poet (hence capable of transcending immediacy, materialism and greed) and journalist (hence a man of his time, capable of connecting to reality). Paulo is caught in a paralyzing personal, political and ethical crisis: what's the role of Art and Artists (especially cinema and filmmakers) in the Third World in the 1960s? Apparently, to serve as a sort of Socratic "light" (ethically, sociologically, politically) against the obscurantist, alienating praxis of "Imperialist domination" in Latin America, since movies are a mass media more accessible to the public than theater, books, theses, specialized essays -- movies CAN reach poor, illiterate people. But artists should be aware they're paying a big personal price for their commitment with the "cause" (leftist cause, as it were).

The film poses a series of bold, difficult questions: why is political corruption ubiquitous and endemic in Latin America? Why and how do fascist leaders get legally elected? Why do fascist leaders always fascinate the "masses"? Is it because they speak what people want to hear or is it their power that fascinates people? Why are Latin fascists always connected with the Catholic Church? Is a demagogue better than a fascist? Are the "ignorant, unprepared working classes" ready to take power in their own hands? Do the "masses" want power to promote equality or do they aspire for the privileges of power? Once in power, will they turn down those privileges for the sake of a new political ethics? Is armed revolution more efficient than gradual conquest of civil and legal rights? Is any model of revolution "importable" (from the USSR, Cuba, etc)? Can the "new society" really be less autocratic and corrupt than the "old" one? No easy answers available, but good questions.

"Terra em Transe" is feverish, urgent, frantic, but not preachy or self-righteous: it's uncompromisingly dialectical and that's one of its best qualities. It's the work of a lucid, angst-filled, courageous 28 year-old filmmaker trying to think out the socio-political complexity of his own country and times, trying to make a contribution as an artist. Glauber boldly confronted censorship with his clear allusions to Brazilian military regime and the "subversive" revolutionary counter-actions that were beginning to take shape in 1967 and would explode in 1969 through the mid-1970s. The military censors vetoed the exhibition and distribution of "Terra...", eventually liberated because it was invited to compete at Cannes (where it won 2 prizes) and Locarno (where it triumphed as Best Film) and the military feared a negative international repercussion of the affair.

Some critics complained the film was incomprehensible and too allegoric; but the fact is that Brazil had gotten so complex by the late 60s that no simple traditional narrative could suffice. Glauber employs the Brechtian concept of building characters as archetypes behaving not as individuals but as symbols of their social class, origins and interests. Cinematically, the film was influenced by the Soviet revolutionary "montage" of Einsenstein/Dovzhenko, the French avant-garde of Vigo and Godard, the cinéma-vérité of Rouch, the unbound creative freedom of Buñuel. Dib Lutfi's hand-held camera is mesmerizing, dizzying, practically having a life of its own (and probably influenced by the outstanding Soviet cameramen Urusevsky and Calzatti). Luiz Carlos Barreto's bleached lighting creates diffuse backgrounds and unspecific landscapes of the invented "Eldorado" (and also helped solve budget limitations concerning locations). The all- star cast is committed and vital, acting at the top of their lungs -- Glauber was no fan of understatement or subtlety:)) The only terrible, embarrassing performance is that of non-actress socialite Danuza Leão, whose dialogs were all cut in post-production -- she poses here as a mute beauty.

Made as a fiction film, "Terra..." is also a testimony of the tense shift that Brazil (and the world) was going through in the mid-60s: utopia was breathing her last bittersweet breath. Today, "Terra..." can be seen both as a fiction film AND a historical document, despite (or because of) the fact that it's extremely symbolic, poetic, anti-naturalistic. Suddenly, you're aware of a time in History when a film -- a popular medium of artistic expression! -- was not afraid to raise and discuss political theses or use words like "patriarchalism", "imperialism", "conolialism", "masses" or "revolution" in dialog! To 21st century politically sanitized/fed-up audiences, "Terra..." can be quite an experience. Rocha's daring, confrontational, neck-gripping, thick-blooded art towers over the hordes of predictable, intellectually flaccid, ideologically boneless films of the 2000s.

This is compulsory viewing for anyone interested in Glauber Rocha and/or Brazilian/Latin-American political cinema. It can be confusing, loud and chaotic at times, but it's highly impacting and, most importantly, it urges you to think. It's a good companion piece to key "revolution" films of the mid-60s such as Rocha's own "Deus e o Diabo ...", Ruy Guerra's "Os Fuzis", Alea's "Memorias del Subdesarrollo", Solana's "La Hora de los Hornos", Bertolucci's "Prima della Revoluzione", Pasolini's "Uccellacci e Uccellini", Godard's "Le Petit Soldat", Pontecorvo's "La Battaglia di Algeri", Kalatozov's "Soy Cuba", etc (the list goes on and it's a GREAT list!). Don't watch it if you're not into political art or dislike experimental film-making.

Glauber Rocha is crazy, and here he explores his favorite subject - politics. Rocha shows, I think, that the line between poetry and politics can be blurred, and that they can and is being aproached the same way, in a sense that both dont have a definitive solution and people form different kind of theories. Glauber brilliantly potrays this paradox, and the film is a answer to the great mystery. Its a political essay as well as a cinematic masterpiece. Its poetry and psychedelic merged in to a transic account, following the same logic as in a dream. Godlike.

In the film, Glauber will prepare an analysis, seeking to reflect on the reasons that led to the 'Collapse of Populism in Brazil' in 1964. "Terra em Transe" criticizes social classes and uses 'Theory of Populism' to explain the reasons for the victory of the Coup. Rocha suggests that, the Military Dictatorship installment in Brazil after the Coup of 64', he did not believe that armed struggle would be the best way to defeat the it, because the dictatorship was becoming increasingly repressive and increasingly closed all channels of popular participation in the country's political life. So, what is the way out that Glauber points out to get Brazil out of that situation? In fact, he doesn't know and, precisely because of that, he doesn't point out any solution, he just tries to portray the complex situation with an extraordinary poetic approach.

Brazil was in a situation of impasse and that there was no solution for it at that time. It shows the vision of a political and social situation in Brazil at that historical moment, which was based on the knowledge of some aspects in the Brazilian reality at that time, as well as making it clear how the country came to this situation and what were the main dilemmas and impasses facing the Brazilian nation.

I have decides to add some qoutes at the end of my review to confirm this political thesis of the films intention:

Porfirio Diaz becomes Dictator of Eldorado and says "They will learn! They will learn! I will rule this land. I will put these hysterical traditions in order! By force, for the love of force! By the universal harmony of hells, we will reach a civilization!" Such speech well sums up the reactionary and fascist thinking of a large part of the country's ruling classes and is still very current.

Desperate with the Coup victory, Paulo insists on promoting an armed resistance, but that will be useless, as the Coup has already been victorious. He wonders how long we will endure all this suffering. Sara asks 'What proves her death' and Paul replies 'The triumph of beauty and justice'.

I have seen one other film by this guy, Deus e o Diabo na Terra do Sol, and was completely taken aback at the time: Soviet notions of montage spilled helter skelter over the sunbaked Brazilian plains into the most deranged onslaught of rigorously polemic kitsch. Marx sloganeering via Brecht filmed by Eisenstein and Welles. You either bowed our early or agreed to be annihilated in the cinematic rave.

This has more serious merit I believe, is more pensive, introspective work. Marx is puzzled over. Godard is stripped of hip and ironic complacency. Eisenstein is understood as more than blistering agitprop and in context of the new world the cinematic eye aspires to create. Is such a world worth the effort to materialize? And is it going to be as envisioned?

I recommend it on just the principle that it's a political film promoting discussion, involvement, examination. This is a rare thing to have, especially these days when film consistently shies away from the great turmoils and viewers - understandably so - are becoming increasingly bitter and desensitized to any political involvement that may change the world. Oh we keep voting, but worst of all we have come to terms that it doesn't really matter which way we do, haven't we?

No, this is political work from a time when it was still thought and anticipated that the world could be changed in one lifetime and film could be a tool to assist and herald change. The plot is about a young artist - poet and journalist - who will have to surmise his place and level of involvement in a complex narrative about a nation's past and future strife, the surrogate self of a filmmaker looking for the same.

That narrative is every bit as 20th century Latin American history has affirmed it. On one side there is flag, cross, the capital, the military-secret service complex, bureaucracy, control over state media, counter-revolution. On the other side there are workers' rights, agrarian reforms, redistribution of wealth, democracy, populism, propaganda, socialist rhetorics, the world revolution. The two sides compete for the gubernatorial elections of a fictional county called El Dorado, after the mythical 'Lost City of Gold' that obsessed conquistadors. The modern El Dorado is poor and downtrodden, its people meek and submissive, but still a coveted land for conquest and control. Oil, coal, diamonds, uranium, these are the new riches of mythical proportions.

All told, it's not really hard to discern who is the main recipient of Marxist ire here. Rocha gleefully tears through caricatures but moves on to make another point. Are the latter really ready and able to govern? Do they have a plan beyond bold proclamations? Are they backed by less insidious corporate interests?

Naturally our young poet is puzzled, having been involved with both parties. The film mirrors this inner strife: a non-linear narrative fragmented through many visual cut-ups, hand-held shots, New Wave dissonance, artificiality, internal landscape, poetry recitations, theatrical grandiloquence. Not all of it works, but it's translucent when it does.

As far as political-minded New Wave goes, I believe this has near as much merit as the films of Yoshishige Yoshida from Japan, Eros+Massacre and Heroic Purgatory.

Politics of the region are more complex and subtle than Rocha delves into. Shucks. A key insight into what this is, is the framing device: a dream of delirious death.