Bacurau
nightjar

The pandemic year of 2020 saw more than its share of simple-minded, heavy-handed allegories and parables released to screens of all sizes. Some, like Natalie Erika James's Relic, were welcome, but most, such as George Clooney's vapid The Midnight Sky and Craig Zobel's feeble The Hunt, were best skipped. So now that the 2019 Cannes Jury Prize winner from Brazil has dropped onto streaming platforms, it provides a much-needed shock to the system.

From Brazilian writer/directors Kleber Mendonça Filho and Juliano Dornelles (who previously collaborated as director and production designer, respectively, on the acclaimed Aquarius and Neighboring Sounds) comes a thrilling mix of the sci-fi and western genres that aligns perfectly with their country's rich tradition of political cinema. Set in the near future, the action takes place in Bacurau, a fictional outback town in the Northeast region of Brazil—at least until it suddenly disappears from Google Maps. The culture and traditions of Bacurau and its inhabitants get quickly and stirringly established in the picture's engrossing first act. A few characters emerge as potential protagonists, but moreover, we're given a palpable sense of all the area's residents—their work, their customs, their social order, and their history. We also quickly come to understand their current circumstances, such as the fact that they've been cut off from their water supply, and that their smiling but universally distrusted local politician will soon be running for re-election.

What follows is a riveting, deeply satisfying narrative full of analogs to Brazil's political situation that never makes the mistake of drawing any direct parallels to specific leaders or social/political groups. The ominous threat to this fictional community is never fully spelled out, but this in no way limits our investment and engagement in the violent, bloody climax. Bacurau is not a pseudointellectual watch but rather a truly visceral cinematic experience. We undergo the confusion, the fear, and the call to populist retribution that the characters feel, and the picture leaves us with plenty to ruminate on after it's all over.

Filho and Dornelles wield cinematography, editing, and sound design with the same dexterity with which they harness the power of the various narrative tropes they mix and subvert, delivering a film that's both thrilling and astute. The cast, a mix of non-actors, up-and-comers, and legends like Sonia Braga and Udo Kier, create a vivid, multidimensional world that drives home the anti-colonialist themes better than most documentaries on the subject can hope to do.