My Thoughts on Bacurau

With his 2012 debut Neighbouring Sounds, Kleber Mendonça Filho established himself as a filmmaker with a knack for creating beautifully constructed worlds full of compelling, well-drawn characters. Eight years later and two more films under his belt, this is perhaps truer than ever with Bacurau, his latest genre-bending tale of community in crisis. Winner of the Jury Prize in Cannes last year, it's a strange fusion of contemporary western and dystopian action film with a lot on its mind, and for the most part, succeeds as a pounding, provocative assault on the senses. The film revolves around the titular village in rural Brazil, which finds itself plagued by strange happenings- the water supply is rapidly receding, drones are tracking the townspeople's every move and the village itself is disappearing from the maps- all following the death of its 94 year old matriarch. The reason for these strange occurrences won't be spoiled here, but it's clear from the start that Mendonça Filho has his sights set on some seriously pressing sociopolitical issues

The film wears its influences proudly, boasting a style that feels like The Fog by way of Jodorowsky, but Mendonça Filho never lets them dilute the unique style he's been honing over the course of his career. The steady build of atmosphere, broad scope and the constant threat of violence are all tools he's been developing since Neighboring Sounds, and it really feels like he's figured out the perfect formula to use them with in Bacurau. It's a film that sees him lean further into grindhouse beats than the rest of his work, but this proves to be one of the film's great strengths: Mendonça Filho is angry, and he's not going to compromise in how he expresses it. He weaves genre pulp with social concern in such a fascinating way, brazenly matching real world horrors onto pulpy violence, and even if the results might not be for everyone, it is undeniable how confident he is in composing such a blend. It's a film that's unafraid to get its hands dirty, to plunge itself into grit and gore and genre, and although it burns slow, it gives off such a blistering heat that it's impossible not to look at

Perhaps most bizarre, however, is the shift in perspective around two-thirds of the way in, something that is both one of the film's great advantages and its most damning weakness. Subtlety is not a priority in this film, and in doing this, Mendonça Filho is making his point as explicit and obvious as possible. There is little nuance in this portion of Bacurau, and the broadness of it may sour the experience for some viewers, especially when the dialogue grows considerably more clunky and cumbersome. That said, there is still merit to be found in this change. The characterisation is deliberately grossly oversimplified, allowing Mendonça Filho to deliver some beautifully damning blows. It also allows him to effectively set up a gleefully wild finale. The climax is stunning: bloody, cathartic and gleefully chaotic, and the perfect payoff to the uneven but effective stretch of social commentary that preceded it. It is unrelentingly violent but strikes with such force that it's impossible not to admire the sheer audacity of it

Ultimately, Bacurau is a hard film to love. It's abrasive, audacious, and caked with gore, but viewers who stick with it will be rewarded. It's clear how much Mendonça Filho has grown and developed as a storyteller over the last eight years, effortlessly crafting a convincing world and letting it slowly erupt with chaos. It's brazen and bold, tackling the issues of modern Brazil in a uniquely cineliterate way. As an exercise in mood and atmosphere, it's as strong as anything to come out in the last five years. It is disturbing viewing, but those who persevere will find a film that is incendiary, thrilling and expertly assembled. It's a harsh film that shimmers in its sensitive moments and roars in its aggression. It is hypnotic, chaotic and incredibly special

★ ★ ★ ★ ★