Tomorrow Was Another Day

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Themes

"Aquarela do Brasil"

The title Brazil is taken from a 1980s Ary Barroso hit entitled “Aquarela do Brasil,” or “Watercolor of Brazil,” which was later translated into its English version “Brazil” by S.K. Russell. Terry Gilliam’s inspiration for the film came when walking along the beach of Port Talbot, a steel town in Wales; the beach is covered in black soot, and the splendor of the sunset over the open ocean contrasts strikingly with the desolate shoreline. Gilliam had a mental image of a lonely man sitting on the beach, tuning in a portable radio, when all of a sudden the song “Brazil” comes on—“music he’s never heard before—there was no music like that in his world” (Rushdie). The song transports him to a better world than the one he knows. This dream world was what South America was to the United States during the forties; people were constantly “going down to Rio” to escape life. Yet at this time, when governments worldwide were becoming more oppressive, there were cases in South America of people being thrown in jail and then being forced to pay for their incarceration (Rushdie). The situation in 1940s South America gave Gilliam the idea of a society where fantasy is the only means of escape from ultimate oppression and exploitation.

For the lyrics of the song "Brazil," click here.

Flights of Fantasy

	Sam’s fantasies transport him out of the real world to one of his own creation, where he is a macho winged superhero who soars through the skies above a peaceful country valley in pursuit of a beautiful semi-clad woman calling his name. Terry Gilliam describes the dream sequences of Sam flying above the clouds, sheathed in gleaming silver armor, with a huge set of white wings, as his "Icarus fantasy" (Sterritt and Rhodes 27). Sam believes he is powerful enough to take on the dystopian system, but as he ascends higher and higher, becoming all the while more human, the world around him becomes more bureaucratic and less human. In his vanity, Sam crosses the boundary, flies too close to the sun, and falls back to Earth with singed wings and a broken soul. Events are set in motion when Sam’s dream girl appears in the real world. The harder he tries to find her, the more the city impinges on his fantasies. Skyscrapers burst from the valley below, trapping the woman in their midst; a horde of ragged urchin-like beings all sporting horrific doll masks (representing the bureaucrats who hide their true emotions and pretend to be something they’re not) cage her and pull her through the streets; a giant samurai made of computer parts (a physical embodiment of “the system” and its technology) blocks Sam’s path, forcing him to do battle. The real world plays out in a different manner than in Sam’s dreams. Jill Layton is a far cry from the helpless, feminine maiden Sam envisions himself rescuing from the terrors of the city. In actuality, Jill is a highly independent woman; her hair is cropped short, she wears men’s clothing, and she drives an enormous delivery truck, or “cab,” through the narrow city streets. She turns out to be a stronger character than Sam, who cannot bring himself to fully distrust the government, and as a result is destroyed when he timidly attempts to thwart the system (Ashbrook 46).

Sam’s fantasies transport him out of the real world to one of his own creation, where he is a macho winged superhero who soars through the skies above a peaceful country valley in pursuit of a beautiful semi-clad woman calling his name. Terry Gilliam describes the dream sequences of Sam flying above the clouds, sheathed in gleaming silver armor, with a huge set of white wings, as his "Icarus fantasy" (Sterritt and Rhodes 27). Sam believes he is powerful enough to take on the dystopian system, but as he ascends higher and higher, becoming all the while more human, the world around him becomes more bureaucratic and less human. In his vanity, Sam crosses the boundary, flies too close to the sun, and falls back to Earth with singed wings and a broken soul.

Events are set in motion when Sam’s dream girl appears in the real world. The harder he tries to find her, the more the city impinges on his fantasies. Skyscrapers burst from the valley below, trapping the woman in their midst; a horde of ragged urchin-like beings all sporting horrific doll masks (representing the bureaucrats who hide their true emotions and pretend to be something they’re not) cage her and pull her through the streets; a giant samurai made of computer parts (a physical embodiment of “the system” and its technology) blocks Sam’s path, forcing him to do battle.

The real world plays out in a different manner than in Sam’s dreams. Jill Layton is a far cry from the helpless, feminine maiden Sam envisions himself rescuing from the terrors of the city. In actuality, Jill is a highly independent woman; her hair is cropped short, she wears men’s clothing, and she drives an enormous delivery truck, or “cab,” through the narrow city streets. She turns out to be a stronger character than Sam, who cannot bring himself to fully distrust the government, and as a result is destroyed when he timidly attempts to thwart the system (Ashbrook 46).

Creative Plumbing

	A striking feature of the set design of Brazil is the ducts: an extensive network of ducts runs through the city and into homes and businesses, providing electricity, heating, air conditioning, and plumbing. In most cases, the ductwork entirely overpowers the structure of the room and destroys any ambiance that the owner tried to create. The stylish club where Sam dines with his mother, her companion Mrs. Alma Terrain and her daughter Shirley is swamped by exposed ducts spouting from the center of the room and running across the ceilings and walls in an ungainly fashion completely at odds with the intended elegance of the restaurant. The Buttle home is similarly overwhelmed by ducts; in fact, a scene which Gilliam had hoped to include in the film but which was cut in the end showed the Buttle abode far out in the middle of a vast plain, with a single duct stretching out like an umbilical cord to connect the house with the city (Sterritt and Rhodes 26). Gilliam meant to show that, no matter how isolated one tried to be, the system always managed to be present in some form. The idea of the ducts as umbilical cords, bringing life and vital resources like electricity and plumbing to citizens, mimics the intended function of the bureaucracy. The government is meant to provide security to its people when in actuality it oppresses and terrorizes them. The ducts, an extension of the state, are also constantly short-circuiting to the point where Central Services is unable to keep up with repair calls. Instead, the ducts become a liability, and they weigh down upon residents with oppressiveness equal to that of the government.

A striking feature of the set design of Brazil is the ducts: an extensive network of ducts runs through the city and into homes and businesses, providing electricity, heating, air conditioning, and plumbing. In most cases, the ductwork entirely overpowers the structure of the room and destroys any ambiance that the owner tried to create. The stylish club where Sam dines with his mother, her companion Mrs. Alma Terrain and her daughter Shirley is swamped by exposed ducts spouting from the center of the room and running across the ceilings and walls in an ungainly fashion completely at odds with the intended elegance of the restaurant. The Buttle home is similarly overwhelmed by ducts; in fact, a scene which Gilliam had hoped to include in the film but which was cut in the end showed the Buttle abode far out in the middle of a vast plain, with a single duct stretching out like an umbilical cord to connect the house with the city (Sterritt and Rhodes 26). Gilliam meant to show that, no matter how isolated one tried to be, the system always managed to be present in some form.

The idea of the ducts as umbilical cords, bringing life and vital resources like electricity and plumbing to citizens, mimics the intended function of the bureaucracy. The government is meant to provide security to its people when in actuality it oppresses and terrorizes them. The ducts, an extension of the state, are also constantly short-circuiting to the point where Central Services is unable to keep up with repair calls. Instead, the ducts become a liability, and they weigh down upon residents with oppressiveness equal to that of the government.

Have You Got a 27B-6?

A point that Gilliam makes with this film is that society is so caught up in the minor details of life that people often fail to see the big picture. The arrest of Archie Buttle is a prime example: the Ministry official cuts into Mrs. Buttle’s hysterical screaming and offers her a clipboard and a pen, asks that she sign on the line, takes off the top sheet and points to another signature line (requesting that she “press harder this time”), hands her a receipt for her husband, tears off what he calls “my receipt for your receipt,” and marches her husband out of the room (Brazil). The fixation on official documentation is so crucial to the functioning of the government that Harry Tuttle declares he could never work for Central Services because he “couldn’t stand the paperwork” (Brazil). Instead, Tuttle works independently and as a result is far more efficient than his bureaucratic counterparts. In the end, however, Tuttle is beaten by the system; he disappears in a pile of the very paperwork he had tried his entire life to avoid and defeat (Ashbrook 46).

A point that Gilliam makes with this film is that society is so caught up in the minor details of life that people often fail to see the big picture. The arrest of Archie Buttle is a prime example: the Ministry official cuts into Mrs. Buttle’s hysterical screaming and offers her a clipboard and a pen, asks that she sign on the line, takes off the top sheet and points to another signature line (requesting that she “press harder this time”), hands her a receipt for her husband, tears off what he calls “my receipt for your receipt,” and marches her husband out of the room (Brazil). The fixation on official documentation is so crucial to the functioning of the government that Harry Tuttle declares he could never work for Central Services because he “couldn’t stand the paperwork” (Brazil). Instead, Tuttle works independently and as a result is far more efficient than his bureaucratic counterparts. In the end, however, Tuttle is beaten by the system; he disappears in a pile of the very paperwork he had tried his entire life to avoid and defeat (Ashbrook 46).