Queimada

One of the most under-rated films of all time. Marlon Brando is at his best playing the cool, witty Sir William Walker. The film is taut and fast paced. Add to this an intelligent script and beautiful scenery as well as an ironic political story and you have an excellent film. Brando carries the film in his portrayal of Sir William Walker, who is ready to play either side of the political struggle to satisfy his government's (Great Britain) needs. He is equally at ease with the rich upper class plantation owners as with the slave sugar cane cutters allowing him to take advantage of both. Where the film triumphs is in its ironic showing of how colonial powers will stop at nothing to get what they want no matter what the cost. Are the islanders of Queimada any better off as an independent country but relying on the British for trade, or as a colony of Portugal? Hard to say. The sugar cane cutters are no better off that's for sure. The musical score by long time Sergio Leone contributor Ennio Morricone captures very well the senselessness of the revolution as well as the fact that the slaves are just pawns in a much larger and dangerous game.Apparently the actor who plays Jose Dolores was an illiterate sugar cane cutter and had never even seen a film. Even with this handicap, he still manages to give the heroic Jose an air of dignity. It is nice to see a film that does not accept that everything is all right in the world and that such a trivial thing as having sugar for our tea, can have life and death consequences for so many people. A film not to be missed.

In the 1830's, the island of Quemada in the Antilles is a Portuguese colony - that is, until an English agent provocateur arrives and inspires the black slaves to rise and expel the colonial authorities. However, as is always the way with revolutions, a group of middle-class power brokers seizes political control and the people's aspirations are betrayed.

Ten years pass, and the sugar industry now requires peace and stability on Quemada. The continuing guerilla campaign by the dispossessed blacks is harming profits. The very same English adventurer is once more despatched to the island, this time to hunt down and eradicate the revolutionaries he created.

Marlon Brando plays Sir William Walker in his best Fletcher Christian English accent and a blonde wig with a life of its own. His is a thoughtful performance, putting across the complexity of the man, a character who is undoubtedly cynical and unscrupulous, but who is also an emotional man and something of a political philosopher. He is certainly effective at what he does.

The direction of Gillo Pontecorvo is somewhat erratic at times. There are points where the narrative is confused, and the gold robbery which drives the plot somehow got left on the cutting-room floor. Jose Dolores' rise to power is the most significant event in the story, but we see nothing of it. During the voodoo carnival, two of the participants are wearing 20th-century soccer shorts. The film's central pivot, the passage of ten years between Walker's two visits to the island, is handled very sketchily by means of a few incongruous London scenes and a voice-over narration.

But there are good things, too. When Santiago's widow hauls her husband's body away, the masonry of the fort stands as a silent metaphor of colonial power - harsh, overbearing and sterile. Brando has some fine speeches, musing on the nature of political legitimism. The fire scenes are visually arresting (though it would have sufficed to have two or three guerillas being shot as they emerged from the burning sugar cane: seven or eight is labouring the point), and Walker is positively luminous against the tortured black shapes of the charred forest, showing in symbolic form that this man thrives on the suffering of the blacks, and that destruction is his natural element.

Marlon Brando here perfects the portrayal of an upper class Englishman that he first essayed in Mutiny on the Bounty. His British agent, Sir William Walker, is patrician, duplicitous, sardonic, manipulative, charming - the embodiment of perfidious Albion. This exploration of colonialism is one of the better films Brando made in the sixties, if not the best. In it he was able to realise his long-expressed wish to make films of a serious, political nature and this one, which charts Britain's involvement in a Portugese colony in the Antilles during the mid 19th century, offers an unequivocally Marxist analysis of the struggle for freedom on the part of the black sugar cane workers. Gillo Pontecorvo, the Italian director, had previously made the much admired Battle of Algiers on the theme of French colonialism.

Walker is sent to the island of Queimada on two occasions in furtherance of British interests in the sugar trade. Initially he is employed by the Admiralty to incite a rebellion against the Portugese and install an independent government. Ten years later he returns, this time on behalf of a major sugar company, to destroy the rebel leader he himself has created.

Walker, however, is an ambivalent figure, only too aware of the contradictions in his nature. His stance is that of the professional who tries 'to do a job well, and to see it through'. At the same time, he admires Jose Dolores, the rebel leader, and is contemptuous of those not fighting alongside him. ('Why aren't you up there with them on the Sierra Madre?' he asks a bemused government soldier.) When his successful counter-insurrection leads to Jose Dolores' capture, Walker offers him the chance to escape execution, and is then puzzled by his refusal. As a man without political conviction, Walker cannot comprehend it in others.

The film is not without its flaws. Some fairly ruthless cutting leaves the plot difficult to follow on first viewing. The middle section, accounting for the intervening years in Walker's life, is unconvincing. If he is a disillusioned man, reduced to drinking and brawling (through self-loathing?) there is no sign of it on his return to Queimada. And whatever happened to his next assignment in, ironically, Indo-China?

The rest of the multi-national cast are no match for Brando, who has most of the dialogue and is seldom off screen. Jose Dolores, for example, is played by a young Colombian who had never seen a film before, let alone acted in one, and the imbalance between the two performances is all too evident. Pontecorvo orchestrates the big crowd scenes well, and they have the documentary feel of Battle of Algiers, but they cause the film to swing unevenly between action and ideas.

Making the film was apparently an unhappy experience for all concerned. Shot mainly in Colombia, working conditions were appalling with the cast and crew subject to illness, bad weather and threats of violence. With Italian, French, English and Spanish speakers involved, there were major problems of communication. Brando and Pontecorvo had different views on the main character - the director wanted him portrayed as an unmitigated force of evil while Brando pushed for more light and shade - and relationships between the two deteriorated rapidly. Filming was finally completed in Morocco after Brando, who was at a very low ebb in his life, walked off the set and threatened to quit the production altogether.

Despite its flaws, it remains a fascinating film, with a literate script, a strong anti-racist message and a central performance of great intelligence and wit. Why has it never been released on video in the UK?

Seldom has a movie set in an earlier century displayed such contemporary relevance. Brando plays a British version of the CIA sent to wrest a Carribbean island away from the Portuguese empire and its slave-holding planters. It all seems rather noble, until we discover that he is to deliver the emancipated Africans into a fresh form of slavery: the wage slavery of the global sugar market. The machinations fly fast and furious as Brando double-deals a British company into the reins of power. His character proves a sometimes fascinating study in professional pride versus grudging respect for the darkskinned foe. Film-maker Pontecorvo (Battle of Algiers) is particularly alert to the many subtle and not-so-subtle modes of European domination, and I like the way he lingers over African crowd scenes, neither romanticizing nor denigrating their presence.

Small wonder this film disappeared quickly from American screens. It's a no-punches-pulled, heady stuff even for the rebellious 1960's. Brando was always an anti-imperialist, and I suspect this film amounted to the one he long hoped to make, despite many years of bad choices. The movie itself remains an insight into the ugly realities behind the dressed-up facade of history books, proxy armies, and cosmetic governments. And although, not Brando's best performance (dialects never brought out his best), the screenplay stands as a testament to a political conviction which, despite the early years of McCarthy red-baiting, never wavered and even smouldered to artistic heights during that same period. ( Disregard Leonard Maltin's characterization of the film as "muddled"-- his staff apparently failed to follow the twists and turns of the power struggle, which, despite Maltin's myopia, pursues a reasoned course on all sides.) Then too, catch up with the uncut European version if you can.

Marlon Brando's involvement in the making of "Burn" came about directly as the result of his politician idealism and his desire to make films with a comment on the human situation… In 1968 he was deeply concerned in supporting civil rights causes, particularly those to have reference to black and Indian conditions, and, according to his friends, he was greatly disturbed and depressed by the assassination of Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King…

"Burn" begins in 1845 as Sir William Walker (Brando) arrives on the island of Queimada, truly as far as can be judged as a harmless traveler but actually an agent of the British government ordered to incite a revolution that will shatter the Portuguese control on the island and permit the British to put their hand on the valuable sugar-cane total product… Queimada has a population of two hundred thousand, of whom only five thousand are Europeans…The main town is a well-protected port with a fort and a garrison, a governor's palace, a cathedral, a bank, a hotel and a brothel…

The English gentleman recognizes he must play the part of a political Pygmalion… He looks around for a suitable subject to train as a revolutionary and he selects José Dolores (Evaristo Marquez), a large, handsome black dock-worker with an air of confidence… Walker also recruits Teddy Sanchez (Renato Salvatori), an almost-white clerk with political ambitions… Walker persuades José Dolores to steal the bank of the island, and once he does, Walker reveals his name to the government, thereby turning Dolores into a hunted bandit… The ingenious Walker then teaches Dolores and his followers in the use of firearms and gradually absorbs in them ideas and feelings to overthrow the Portuguese government…

The film is quite obviously political in tone, and is a passionate piece of propaganda in the anti-colonial struggle… Brando's interpretation of Sir William Walker is apt to call up memories of his Fletcher Christian… This is another Englishman, whose gentle speech and soft manners disguise with courage and determination…Walker is not a villain but a cold, inflexible pragmatist with a hard work to accomplish