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Untying Brazil

I recently viewed a film that I had nearly brushed off as one of the most extraordinary Hollywood productions I have ever seen. Its chaos nearly blinds its point, but, with a watchful eye and an attitude that contradicts the likes of an 'oh, that's weird' mentality, I came to the conclusion that it would bring me great joy to deconstruct it. The movie is Terry Gilliam's 1987 surrealist film, Brazil. Set "somewhere in the 20th century", in a city that looks straight out of the German Expressionist movement of the 1920's; echoing the long lived cityscapes and bizarre sets of Fritz Lang's masterpiece, Metropolis. It is truly sci-fi, but does not possess the typical clichs of it genre, focusing, instead, on paranoia, bureaucracy and romance. Set in a corporation-ruled world where the mistake of a B' in the place of a T' can result in an innocent man's sentence to death and create a conspiracy that would alter the life of protagonist, Sam Lowry, forever.

The city is absorbed with a gothic atmosphere; huge emotionless statues nourish dirty streets, eerie lighting nearly drains out all color to the point of indistinguishable black and white. Its buildings are a construction of mass produced box-like flats, placed one on top of the other; they are simply purchased and shipped out. Exposed heating ducts of all sizes and colors are the fashionable dcor of the home. Life's main goal is efficiency and space is saved wherever possible. Offices are space saving cubicles; on room made into two with a desk shared between the wall of the adjoining cubicles. Life is sought after but not given any respect or consideration. The aged, unless improved' by plastic (or acid) surgery, are ignored and considered useless. They are a constant reminder of death, an incredibly unpleasant subject in this society that is avoided at all cost. The corporation refrains from even using the word death', replacing it with words like deleted, canceled or no longer available. Most have an obsession with youth; even still, there is a complete disregard for happiness and the things that make life work living. Destruction and the death of others hardly fazes anyone; the 1950's, American ethic of ignorance being bliss, is taken to a satirical extreme. Bombs maim and kill people on a daily basis but are considered little more than a nescience to anyone unhurt. The wounded are treated like eyesores; waste that is cleaned up by the department of Information Transit.

Information Transit is a

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