Brazil is a complicated country. Under the facade of warmth with which we normally sell our image across borders, there is a place of contradictions. Under the cloak of the “higher good,” any remnant of moral restraint dissolves under a veil of hypocrisy.
We don’t have to go far to see this “average Brazilian” in action. Just turn on the news for the last few days to find hordes of “good people” promoting a coup d’état in our democracy. All under the pretext of a “greater good”. homeland and such.
I don’t know the size of screenwriterdirector Carolina Markowicz’s crystal ball, here in her first feature film. But there’s no denying that by carving out a microcosm embedded in an interior that only seems to flirt with civilization, the socalled “deep Brazil”, she makes “Carvão” an uncomfortable portrait of who we are and what we are capable of doing when the belt tightens.
The simple plot brings power and a sense of urgency, coupled with an absolute mastery of technique and a deliciously snarky sense of humor. Following the structure of apparent peace, torn apart by the introduction of a foreign element, the film follows a family who, due to adverse circumstances, decide to host an Argentine drug dealer in their home.
It centers on Irene (Maeve Jinkings, a colossus) who is in fits and starts holding her family core, which is completed by her husband Jairo (Rômulo Braga) and their son Jean (Jean Costa, a revelation). The livelihood guaranteed by the charcoal factory on the family property falls into serious financial difficulties, which are exacerbated by the almost vegetative state of Irene’s father.
Fate seems to change when Juracy (Aline Marta Maia), a community health worker, makes a sinister proposal to the family. When a deal is accepted, they soon get Miguel (César Bórdon), a fugitive Argentine drug dealer who, while evading the look of the law, guarantees Irene and her entourage extra money to raise the family standard.
Absolutely nothing in “Charcoal” is what it seems. At a time when cinema is rapidly adapting to algorithms and new production and distribution channels, Markowikz focuses on originality and the unusual. Every choice your characters make feeds the next moment in a progressive game full of surprises and twists. The feeling of isolation, geographically and personally, is almost unbearable. Consequently, of course, the mystery will not remain in the shadows.
In “Carvão” the isolation is geographical and personal
Image: Pandora
Incidentally, it is secrets that move the characters in “Carvão”. Traditional family dynamics so trumpeted by advocates of contrived conservatism are shattered in the director’s text to reflect realworld hypocrisy. The maxim is that when all is going well, or at least some semblance of normality, then infidelity and violence, greed and death are acceptable sins.
In the hands of a filmmaker looking for a platform, this amalgamation of elements would sound discursive and wordy. Carolina, on the other hand, understands the importance of humor as a comma that enhances the impact of drama. The heaviness of the action is broken and humanized with an injection of nervous laughter. Markowikz knows how to tell a story and the care here is exceptional.
Even in the far reaches of deep Brazil there is a connection. It is precisely this connection that makes “Carvão” an absolutely universal film, at the same time undeniably Brazilian. Whether in the zombies marching today with flags on their backs, or in a family nucleus fragmented by the presence of a stranger, reflection is disruptive. That’s why we couldn’t stop looking.