As a Brazilian, Petra Costa’s “Apocalypse in the Tropics” — a documentary that, in all but name, is her follow-up to the Oscar-nominated “The Edge of Democracy” – is a tough watch. Much like in that previous doc, this is a record of some of the most turbulent, heart wrenching and anxiety-inducing years in the country’s history, specifically the presidency of Jair Bolsonaro and his horrible administration during the COVID-19 pandemic.
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The viral outbreak, however, is merely a chapter of this broad account of how Bolsonaro came to be, who supported him, and how he then abandoned them. The apocalypse in the title is actually a reference to the Biblical book of Revelation (titled “Apocalipse” in Brazilian Portuguese), which points to Costa’s chosen frame of reference for her new, first-person narrated film: Christianity. Or, to be more precise, how the former president and his close circle (or, as she suggests, his silent masters) weaponized millions of the country’s citizen’s thirst for the spiritual during a time of economic and social upheaval. All to transform a once fringe-politician who got by through controversial statements and military sympathy into a manipulative messiah for those in the far-right.
Much like “The Edge of Democracy”, “Apocalypse in the Tropics” portrays the chaotic events of the past election cycles with beat-by-beat precision, and is accompanied by striking imagery and surprising access to key figures of the story, like Bolsonaro’s rival, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, and Brazil’s most prominent televangelist, Silas Malafaia, a fiery pentecostal pastor who had an immense role in recent elections and, the doc occasionally supposes, is perhaps the man behind the man. All of this turns “Apocalypse in the Tropics” into an often visceral watch for Brazilians and, with the support of Costa’s narration (again done in English, though there are two versions of the film — the one with Portuguese voiceover premiered at Venice) will almost certainly help her film attain, once more, international attention.
Costa is, above all, an excellent chronicler of the moods swirling in her nation, but there is a flipside to the way she paints the picture. There is a local expression in Brazil that, translated, would be something like “for a gringo to see.” It is an indication of something made to gain admiration with those unfamiliar with the country, even at the cost of a deeper, more nuanced dive into the cultural roots that form it. Depth is exchanged for ease of access.
Here, this leads to the feeling that she, ultimately, does not have much to say about the relation between the rise of fundamentalist beliefs in Brazil and the return of fascistic doctrine personified by Bolsonaro beyond the fact that a large part of his voters are pentecostal Christians. Why have people turned to them? Is it only because of the powerful who learned how to exploit this through fake news and the demonization of the left? Or was there a deeper need for hope among the inhabitants of this beautiful, tortured land? Something present before and after Bolsonaro, who merely filled a hole that, according to that faith, can and should be exclusive to an actual Messiah?
She does try for more, at least. For all the fervor right-wingers have against her for being clearly on the left, Costa inches towards the subject with surprising candor and curiosity, claiming that she studied the Bible for the first time in order to understand this phenomenon — which she describes as a willingness to trade power away from the hands of human politicians, a “purer” form of government in her eyes, into those of an unseen God — and regularly citing verses, as well as interpretations from members of this faith to explain the logic behind them.
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In looking for answers, though, she seems to settle quite fast. Christianity is, like many religions, composed of different schools and denominations, but those that are not the Assembly of God, Brazil’s hugely popular evangelical church are barely, if ever, examined here. That’s a notable mistake since Catholicism is still a prominent, and less obviously partisan, force. The director takes an upper-middle class view of things that is visually revealed in her constant use of drone and bird’s-eye shots, a choice that conveys the scale of movements and protests in striking fashion while distancing us from the people, particularly those more economically-challenged. Those overhead shots are often only broken up by close-ups of politicians who, in her mind, are either heroes or villains in the fight to restore an older, pre-dictatorship Brasilia — a capital where democracy is, for good and ill, practiced in harmony.
But this approach, combined with her vague and poetic monologue, turns democracy into a story of powerful men versus powerful men, and not one belonging to the people she claims to care so much about. While it is true that she can get amazingly close to senators and candidates alike, as well as getting them talking about anything, clearly conveying their personalities and appeal in the process, common folk are far and few between. They, the real victims of those who turn faith into an instrument in order to achieve political power, are only useful to the director when she needs to underscore a point. Only twice, does she give them the time and space Malafaia, Lula, and other leaders are awarded, and these scenes feel removed, present only so she can say civilians were also interviewed.
Despite some missteps (her biggest is not investigating Lula’s own efforts to earn the Christian vote as a noble last-minute play and nothing more, despite the president telling her, just five minutes before, that he wouldn’t do that), Costa’s work with the politicians is far more rich and enthralling that when she turns her camera to those actually casting the votes. Though that doesn’t undermine “Apocalypse in the Tropics” as a whole — after all, a film about the major players in Brazil’s political scene is still interesting, and she gets shocking statements from Malafaia and others — it does, on the other hand, make her call to hold hands and weep for democracy sound didactic. Frankly, it even sounds naive. That may help “Apocalypse in the Tropics” earn the kind of reputation “The Edge of Democracy” did when it comes to awards, but for a Brazilian audience it falls short.
Grade: C
“Apocalypse in the Tropics” world premiered at the 2024 Venice Film Festival. It is currently seeking U.S. distribution.
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