As the effects of late-stage capitalism become not only more pervasive but also irreversible, it’s understandable that the art created will reflect a range of reactions to aspects of our crumbling reality. Whether they’re depicting alternate futures or presenting heightened versions of what we presently experience, it’s encouraging that these films in this dispatch road map serve as vessels for that rage.
Messy as some of these expressions might be, there’s an invitation in each one, as if the filmmakers are asking viewers to brainstorm new ways of surviving. What does become clear is the filmmakers’ belief in the enduring spirit of humanity, and that maybe the way to survive increasingly digitized lives is to press into the messiness, awkwardness, and inconvenience of in-person relationships.
Brazilian cinema has been having an exciting moment in the cultural limelight thanks to the success and visibility of projects like “Apocalypse in the Tropics,” “I’m Still Here,” and “The Secret Agent.” The thrills of the Brazilian action film “Beast Race (Corrida Dos Bichos)” are a little more straightforward, taking its themes around government malfeasance and corrupt authority figures and slipping them into the straitjacket of a story that feels a bit like “The Hunger Games” by way of “The Running Man” and a dash of “American Ninja Warrior.”
I’ll always support watching the rough gems of a country that may not otherwise get the same airtime as “elevated” art house fare (from Korea, I champion “Extreme Job” as much as “Burning”) and while there’s enough to admire, the film feels like a diminutive exercise as its most thrilling moments will most likely have you thinking of the other films its drawing from. The result is a film that has both too much going on and not enough to set itself apart.
The ambition and world-building are undeniable from the first frames by directors Fernando Meirelles, Rodrigo Pesavento, and Ernesto Solis, where an on-screen crawl expedites the necessary information before we’re thrust into the film’s propulsive premise. Set in a future where Rio de Janeiro undergoes a drastic transformation after Guanabara Bay dries up, the powerful and wealthy take advantage, using the arid land as a launchpad for cruelty.
The city hosts the titular beast-race competition, where under-resourced participants run across the terrain to reach the finish line. They face not just each other but the locals who bristle at having their homeland transformed into a playground for the well-off’s appetites for violence. Those who run have to also offer someone for “collateral”–usually a family member–who will become the property of the wealthy person sponsoring them should they lose. Mano (Matheus Abreu) is the latest unfortunate soul to be drafted into these games and races to save his sister, Dalva (Thainá Duarte).
The titular races are thrilling, with Gustavo Hadba’s cinematography capturing them with a kind of panache that makes it feel like we’re on the ground with the runners as they duck and weave through obstacles. But at over two hours, there is perhaps one race too many, and they rarely feel that different from one another.
Thematically, the film feels a bit muddled: Mano’s struggle is with whether he can beat the system through his participation, and without spoiling the film’s ending, the message of his struggle feels confused; is it best to give up? Is the only way out through? His relationship with his sponsor, Nadine (Isis Valverde), is also a point of narrative tension, but it seems too shallow and rushed to ever quite resonate.
If you are interested in seeing dynamic set pieces, “Beast Race” will deliver, but the story in between never feels compelling enough for one to want to stick around. I’m all for a big swing, but the punch has to connect, and what we’re left with is a bunch of scattered blows looking for somewhere to land.
The scale of Jonás Cuarón’s “Campeón Gabacho” may not be as large, but that doesn’t stop this pertinent story from trying to tell its narrative in a big way. It’s one of the most visually inventive films I’ve seen at the festival, and it moves with an excitement that’s hard not to be enraptured by. It’s as much a celebration of the endurance of the human spirit as its creativity, a beautiful testament to our ability to bounce back when we have the right people in our corner. Seldom do movies like this nail the balance between the heartbreaking and the entertaining, but this film flies effortlessly between those modes.
Cuarón’s effervescent film follows Liborio (Juan Daniel García Treviño), a migrant from Mexico who arrives in NYC in search of a better life. Within moments, Liborio realizes the bitter truth: it turns out it’s quite easy to start anew in the land of the free, you just have to deal with the xenophobia, exploitation, police brutality, unrequited love, economic disparity, and sense of self-loathing that seems endemic to all who try to escape where they come from. Priding himself on his ability to take hits, both physical and emotional, he is drawn into the orbit of Abacuc (Rubén Blades), who runs an orphanage and encourages the young man to channel his anger and rage into boxing.
This isn’t a film of small emotions, and so much of “Campeón Gabacho” serves as a gleeful exploration of how we all universally feel emotions in new ways. Treviño gives a truly singular performance as Liborio, playing the wide-eyed, thin-lipped fighter with an inner pain that can barely be concealed by fighting. He frequently takes breaks from what’s going on and turns to the camera–“Fleabag” style–and speaks with a satirical tone; he believes all he’s good for is being thrown around as life’s punching bag. It’s rewarding to witness him transform from a solo act into someone who embraces the responsibility of being an icon and visionary; the very perseverance he hates himself for is the very thing that will inspire the people around him.
There are surrealist flourishes that give the film its personality; Cuarón seems to suggest that the emotions these characters feel are metaphysical, letting the world outside them react to what goes on inside. Take a moment when Liborio and Aireen (Leslie Grace) begin to fall in love: the film shows the two of them being lifted from the rooftop they’re on and flying into the sky, eventually into the cosmos.
It’s a touching moment and an example of the film feeling alive, wanting to showcase and honor its characters’ emotions. There’s much to trade blows at in the world and much to solve behind anger and fists. “Campeón Gabacho” gives space for our anger and hope, saying both are needed if we are to survive this world. Ultimately, a riotous crowd pleaser that tells the struggles (and hopeful triumphs) of immigrants with flamboyance and whimsy.
The horror anthology “Grind” tackles its questions about capitalism and exploitation head-on. Directors Brea Grant, Ed Dougherty, and Chelsea Stardust direct vignettes exploring the various vocations that have emerged from the gig economy, from food delivery to influencer work.
The various shorts are succinct enough to be enticing just at an elevator pitch level but it’s more rewarding to see how far each director takes their film’s concept: “ML” focuses on a woman whose failure to sell a certain number of leggings results in terrifying consequences for her and her husband, “Delivery” follows a driver who finds himself caught in a time loop after he drops of food for a suspicious client, “Content Moderation” focuses on someone who goes crazy after subjecting themselves to the worst videos of the internet, while “Union Meeting” mixes creature feature thrills with a group of people at a coffee shop who are thinking about unionizing. They all fall delightfully off the rails, a testament to the directors’ confidence in their twisted visions.
These anecdotes bleed seamlessly into each other, which makes it feel like you’re drinking a demented smoothie of insanity in all flavors. This works in “Grind’s” favor as microdosing each one might have sapped the project’s momentum. The films vary in tone and effectiveness, but there’s a sobering quality to their absurdity. Grant, Dougherty, and Stardust aren’t content to let their stories stay in the realm of satire. We may not have an axe-murderer sent our way yet if we miss a couple of deadlines here and there, but as corporations are backed by technologies that enable those in power to enforce work cruelly, that possibility isn’t entirely out of the question.
While the jury’s still out on the timeline our robots will take over for us, this in-between state we find ourselves in is one characterized by rampant exploitation. It’s far easier for companies to promise 1-day shipping, higher quotas, and faster delivery services if they don’t care about the people who put their bodies and minds on the line doing such work. “Grind” films offer a collage of the people who are being sacrificed on the altar of “magic.” Do we consider the people who race to deliver the duct tape that we wanted expedited? What’s going on with the souls of those people who have to subject themselves to violent images every day and have to filter through them? It may not be perfect, but it acts as a pulpy wake-up call to wake us up from our doom-scroll-induced slumber.
