In a recent interview, film director Terry Gilliam commented on his reluctance to embrace the #MeToo movement, referring to it as a “witch hunt.” This view certainly sets him apart from his peers in Hollywood, but that’s really nothing new for Gilliam. He’s always been a little different. The lone American member of Monty Python, Gilliam is an accomplished provocateur and, while I’m fairly certain his politics probably don’t line up with mine, his tolerance for mob mentality is extremely limited. He makes movies about loners and misfits who, like Gilliam himself, operate well outside the mainstream. Among his filmography are cult classics like “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” and “Time Bandits,” and Oscar-worthy fare such as “The Fisher King” and “12 Monkeys.”
But perhaps Gilliam’s greatest cinematic achievement is his 1985 science fiction film “Brazil.” The story of a naive dreamer oppressed by an authoritarian government will likely sound familiar to most, as it is the core idea behind George Orwell’s iconic “1984.” While obviously inspired by that novel, Gilliam here chooses to embrace his comedy roots and find the absurdity within the darkness, playing up the soul-crushing farce at the core of governmental bureaucracy. The result is a film akin to Stanley Kubrick’s “Dr. Strangelove,” acknowledging the humor amidst horror, bringing the inherent despair to the surface in a way that a straightforward drama never could.
“Brazil” features a premise that many conservatives will appreciate. While many science fiction films like “Alien” and “RoboCop” focus on the inhumanity of corporate greed, Gilliam instead presents the smiling evil of a government with absolute control over its populace. From the drudgery of endless paperwork (“This is your receipt… and this is my receipt for your receipt”) to the chilling assumption of government inerrancy (“Mistakes? We don’t make mistakes”), “Brazil” shows us a world where individualism is constantly, cheerfully suppressed in favor of mindless, banal provision.
Featuring delightful performances from Jonathan Pryce, Ian Holm, and Gilliam’s Python cohort Michael Palin, the nervous politeness of the characters underscores the complete lack of any real personality within this cold, gray world. There is no passion, no romance, no adventure. Everything that we yearn for – the things that make us human – is ignored by this government, replaced by comfort and safety. Of course, should any citizen decide that they’re not totally satisfied with what has been generously provided for them by their leaders, there is the ever-present threat of government force looming over the proceedings.
With “Brazil,” Terry Gilliam provides a funny, fascinating, but ultimately quite depressing image of an ever-growing government that would appear to care for its citizens, but is actually much more interested in retaining its own power. It is a cautionary tale about the travails of being an individual in an increasingly-monolithic society, where refusing to simply go along with the appearance of tranquility and tolerance can get you, shall we say, cancelled.
It is a brilliant film, and one that deserves to be revisited. Because, though it is now thirty-five years old, its themes are more relevant than ever.