I watched Divino Amor, directed by Gabriel Mascaro, and can say it is a disturbing film. The story takes place in Brazil in 2027. The country has become a place dominated by technologies of control and religious moralism.
The main popular celebration is no longer Carnival but ultra-high-tech gospel parties with lights and electronic music, where the faithful dance themselves into exhaustion for the glory of the Lord. Beaches are no longer what they used to be. All the women wear concealing clothes: leggings, skirts, and long-sleeved tops. Only men can walk around in swimming briefs and without shirts.
At the entrances to public places, people are scanned and a panel indicates whether they are married or divorced and whether the women are pregnant. In this dystopian panorama, religion and its ceremonies and gatherings are the main—and only—spaces of social life. There are no longer churches or places of worship. The faithful are served by a pastor through a drive-through system. Instead of receiving a Big Mac, they get advice at their car window and are entitled to hymn “downloads”; in extreme cases, they may be referred to the CAF, the Center for Assistance to the Faithful.
There is a complete loss of boundaries between public and private. This becomes starkly apparent through the routine of the protagonist, played by a superb Dira Paes: a clerk responsible for certifying divorces who uses her position to try to save marriages on the verge of collapse.
The film matters not only for its warning about the near future but also because it opens a discussion about contemporary Brazilian cinema.
Divino Amor and Ancine
This brings us to the debate about Ancine, but not only that. A few days ago, during one of his Facebook livestreams, the president expressed a desire to abolish Ancine, a proposal he has since withdrawn—not least because it would have to go through parliament. One reason for abolishing the National Cinema Agency was that it was not the State’s role to “sponsor cinema.” It is worth making clear that Ancine is not responsible for producing films; it is a regulatory agency.
He did, however, transfer the Superior Cinema Council (CSC) from the Ministry of Citizenship to the Office of the Chief of Staff.
One argument for this change was that he could not allow public money to be used for films such as Bruna Surfistinha.
There were many responses to this statement, drawing attention to cinema’s importance as an industry and its potential to generate jobs. But I would like to focus on another point. Cinema is much more than industry and employment. Cinema is a way of thinking about the world, as Gabriel Mascaro’s film, which I discussed here today, makes clear.