Brazil Blu-ray delivers great video and audio in this exceptional Blu-ray release
Low-level bureaucrat Sam Lowry escapes the monotony of his day-to-day life through a recurring daydream of himself as a virtuous hero saving a beautiful damsel. Investigating a case that led to the wrongful arrest and eventual death of an innocent man instead of wanted terrorist Harry Tuttle, he meets the woman from his daydream and, in trying to help her, gets caught in a web of mistaken identities, mindless bureaucracy, and lies.
For more about Brazil and the Brazil Blu-ray release, see Brazil Blu-ray Review published by Jeffrey Kauffman on June 22, 2011 where this Blu-ray release scored 4.5 out of 5.
Terry Gilliam is undoubtedly one of the most manically creative directors working in contemporary film. He's just as undoubtedly one of the most undisciplined. Any given film of Gilliam's is likely to be a riot of invention, with often stupdenous production design, fun if not always entirely convincing special effects, cartwheeling camera moves and an overall carnival ambience that is often more than not able to cajole an audience into forgiving at least some of the filmmaker's excesses. On the other hand, any given Gilliam enterprise is just as likely to be the repository for half-baked ideas, poorly articulated characters and quite simply too much of just about everything. If Gilliam's early entries found him gingerly feeling his way, often aptly combining surreality with the mundane, his technical prowess certainly has grown by leaps and bounds through the years to the point where films like The Brothers Grimm or even The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus are marvels of filmcraft even if individual aspects about either (or both) of them leave something (a lot?) to be desired. Probably the first full flowering of Gilliam's particular and peculiar genius is what many consider to still be his magnum opus, the 1985 Brazil, a film which created so many retro-future dystopian archetypes that the film certainly can be rightly lauded as one of the most prescient of its generation, influencing all sorts of films which have come in its wake. Brazil had a rather tempestuous production history and was even more maligned after its release, having been so radically recut by its American distributor, Universal, that Gilliam was forced to take full page trade ads out begging that the film be released in something akin to his desired final cut. Universal finally relented, letting Gilliam supervise a sort of compromise which wasn't quite as long as Gilliam's preferred cut but which at least didn't so completely change the film from its originally intended rather bleak and dour assessment of the state of man and society. The Criterion Collection released a stunning three disc DVD set of Brazil well over a decade ago, and that remains the gold standard for content to this day, as it includes Gilliam's preferred, longer cut, copious supplemental material (including excellent commentaries), as well as the botched initial Universal edit which completely recast the film's intent, giving it a standard Hollywood happy ending. This new Universal Blu-ray presents only the "negotiated" Universal 132 minute "middle ground" cut and provides virtually no supplements other than BD Live (which as of this review had no Brazil-centric content).
If you have never seen Brazil, there is simply no adequate way to sum up its anarchic, iconoclastic spirit or storyline. This is an iconic film pitting Everyman (Jonathan Pryce as hapless government worker shlub Sam Lowry—emphasis on Lowry) against a bureaucratic nightmare where something as simple as an errant fly can cause a domino effect that ultimately leads to Sam's imprisonment and "reeducation." Think Kafka on LSD and you have some idea of the lunatic frenzy which awaits in Brazil, a film that wants to simultaneously celebrate the dreaming, yearning spirit of Man while laughing its ass off at the pure, unadulterated idiocy of daring to dream in the first place.
That errant insect which has the misfortune to wreak all sorts of incredible havoc in Sam's life is a fitting symbol of the small vagaries of chance which seem to literally be the fly in the ointment of the well oiled bureaucratic machine which wants us all to be folded, spindled and, yes, mutilated, and happily so, no complaining, please—next!! Sam soon finds himself ensnared with a terrorist named Harry Tuttle (Robert De Niro), the man whose arrest Sam was supposed to facilitate pre-fly, and who now introduces Sam to a hidden world of which he previously had no idea existed. Sam also meets the literal girl of his dreams, Jill (Kim Greist), a scrappy lass whom Sam has been envisioning as a beckoning angel to whom he flies, Icarus-like, on fluffy white dreamer's wings. Along the way we get the typical Gilliamesque sideshow of incredible supporting characters, including an incredible Katherine Helmond as Sam's mother, her very busy plastic surgeon Dr. Jaffe (Jim Broadbent), Spoor (Bob Hoskins) an enthusiastic albeit slightly malevolent repairman, and Mr. Kurtzmann (Ian Holm), Sam's superior who is probably not so coincidentally similarly named to the anti-hero of Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, as well as several others.
Gilliam's natural tendency toward excess actually works brilliantly within the confines of Brazil, aided by a deliciously satirical screenplay co-written by Gilliam, noted playwright Tom Stoppard (Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead) and frequent Gilliam collaborator Charles McKeown. Throwaway punchlines dot the otherwise black landscape in an almost unending series. This is a different kind of humor than Monty Python, though it contains glimmers of that troupe's wonderful combinations of disparate ideas. When Sam is about to be horribly tortured by his friend Jack Lint (Michael Palin), he's urged to confess quickly before it affects his credit rating. It's that kind of bizarre non sequitur around which so much of Brazil's completely unique comedic style is built.
But the film is really a surprisingly thoughtful meditation on individualism and the corporate machinations which seem pre-programmed to chew us all up and spit us all out, differences be damned. Norman Garwood's absolutely incredible production design is perhaps the strongest supporting element in this thesis, as Sam and Jill are surrounded by a Big Brother ethos that seems just as likely to appear via kinescope as it does to utilize anything post-1950. In fact it's one of Brazil's signal achievements that it so effortlessly combines a retro look with a futuristic setting, something many a film has attempted to copy, usually not half so successfully as in this Gilliam opus.
Throughout the film Gilliam utilizes the beautiful Ary Barroso standard "Aquarela do Brasil" as a paean to escape, a dreamer's lullaby which transports Sam to lands of fantasy and happy endings. What's so singularly fascinating about the song, and ultimately the film, is how a celebratory anthem, and by comparison the film by extension, slowly takes on a dark and menacing aspect so that it ultimately becomes nightmarish. Brazil is undeniably a very funny film, but it's a humor laced with arsenic, a bitter pill for anyone who has ever raged against the machine and seen the machine win.
Are we about to have another Spartacus sized controversy? Some readers thought I was too easy on Universal's Blu-ray of Spartacus, especially when compared to the Criterion (DVD) release, but I stand by that assessment as being fair, hopefully dealing with both transfers' pluses and minuses. That same comparative issue is no doubt going to rear its (ugly?) head with regard to Brazil, though in this case I think the Blu-ray results are a good deal more convincing. Encoded via AVC, in 1080p and 1.85:1, this new Universal BD of Brazil sports much more solidly saturated color than the nonanamorphic Criterion DVD, with a rather substantial uptick in clarity and sharpness, though any longtime fan of this film will know going in Brazil was never a model of sharpness, and indeed has always had a pretty soft overall image. The two issues that will probably trouble the most persnickety videophiles, however slight they both are in my own estimation, are the color timing and some moderate DNR (don't get apopleptic, keep reading). The BD sports more or less the same color timing as the Criterion DVD, though flesh tones are noticeably pinker in selected shots. The overall color spectrum is just slightly more lurid than on the Criterion DVD, no doubt largely due to increased saturation. While some moderate DNR does seem to have been applied, it is certainly nowhere near the levels of some of the other catalog releases we've seen from most of the majors. In fact some of the opticals, which of course are going to have increased grain, seem "natural" looking, by which I mean they're soft and a little dirty. The scrubbed ambience is slight, albeit noticeable, but it never approaches "smeary" levels. Black levels, while generous, do occasionally suffer from crush.
Brazil has been sonically upgraded to a lossless DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 track, and the results are mostly convincing, if only because they're not skewed wildly in order to approximate immersion. The bulk of this film's soundscape is centered in the front channels, but there are some nice touches of surround activity, including some of the bombastic fireworks scenes when Tuttle's troops get involved in Sam's predicaments. Mostly, though, everything remains largely in the front (and occasionally side) channels, with sterling fidelity and an overall very artful mix. Dialogue is well handled, and is occasionally directional, though never very dramatically. The film does boast a moment or two of boisterous LFE, and Michael Kamen's score, as well as the repeated "Aquarela do Brasil," sound great.
The one major disappointment with this release is the absolute lack of supplemental material. While the disc is BD Live and D-Box enabled, that's it. We'll have to wait for the Criterion Blu-ray to get all those spectacular extras on the vaunted 5 DVD set, I guess.
Brazil is in its own way as singular an achievement as is Citizen Kane or Gone With the Wind, and I well realize what I'm alleging with that statement. This is not to argue the relative merits of these films, as they're all (to paraphrase Gilliam's previous employer Monty Python's Flying Circus) "completely different," it's only to suggest that each of this films is so unique, so distinctive, so utterly their own creature that comparisons fall by the wayside, as ironic as that may seem considering the gist of these closing comments. Gilliam's films can be a rowdy mess a lot of the time, but they're rarely dull. Brazil is probably his most personal statement, and it's one where his tendency toward nonstop hyperbole is able to work some considerable magic. You'll never think of flies or ductwork quite the same way after watching Brazil, and watch Brazil you most certainly should. While this release is sadly lacking in supplemental features, it should suffice quite nicely until a Criterion version comes along. Highly recommended.
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