By Matthew Moorcroft

Highest Recommendation

• Directed by Kleber Mendonca Filho
• Starring Wagner Moura, Carlos Francisco, Tania Maria, Roberio Diogenes
• R

I have spent a lot of time mulling over The Secret Agent. Out of all the films I saw at WIFF this year, it’s the one that has most intrigued me from both a technical and analytical perspective. It’s not my first rodeo with Brazilian cinema – far from it – but it’s most definitely my first with acclaimed director Kleber Mendonca Filho, who has been a blind spot for me for a very long time. As much of a cinephile and political activist as he is a filmmaker, Filho’s work is steeped as much in history as it is in the present day; even a cursory look at his filmography can tell you he’s equally as interested in the cinematic artform as historical document as an art form.

With it’s surrealist flourishes that are mixed in with docu-drama vignettes that explore both life during and after the military dictatorship, The Secret Agent refuses to be locked into a singular vision or genre as we follow Marcelo (if that’s even his real name) trying to find a way to escape the dictatorship. He’s hiding out with other political refugees, all with their own stories that led them to this moment, and he’s working at a social registration archive in order to keep his profile on the down low. While Marcelo’s story is played out like a classic cat and mouse thriller – especially when he comes into contact with the police and strikes up a rapport with them in order to make sure they aren’t on his tail – this is really only half of The Secret Agent.

Indeed, one of the small beauties of The Secret Agent, and by extension it’s main appeal, is how so much of it is purposefully disorganized. You would think this would be an issue; a film with so much to show and say that it can’t really find a focus in the chaos. But the brilliance of The Secret Agent, and likewise what makes it a film that keeps you pondering long after it’s viewing, is how that chaos weaves together to form a tapestry and a vision of time. With it’s hot, sweaty photography and grindhouse leaning in it’s aesthetic, so much of The Secret Agent feels like it actually did come out of the 70s, like Filho went back in time with modern cameras just to photograph it and show what it was like.

And with that dedication to being more of a vibes picture then anything else, The Secret Agent just urges you to get lost in itself. It’s detours are part of the fun, particularly a fun sequence about a killer leg comes up from the water and kills unsuspecting visitors – a sequence that feels indebted to both classic B movies of the era while also playing on the fears of the populace amidst both the regime and the popularity of films like Jaws which the leg itself almost acts like. Of course, that leg doesn’t actually exist within the narrative of the film itself, working as a story within a story. Perspective is everything.

And The Secret Agent itself is a story within a story, as a modern day girl whose seeming disconnect from the film plays into a strong reveal in the film’s final act in how facts are distorted and changed. So much of this era we don’t actually know simply due to the people from this time period becoming ghosts; they might as well not exist. Marcelo, in a way, is both one of these ghosts but not in the way he expected. Marcelo wants to be a ghost for the government, and he ends up becoming a ghost to history. This meta aspect is likely the real intentions to Filho’s screenplay here, which masterfully balances dark humor, social satire, tense standoffs, and a wickedly brutal third act that feels straight out of a Tarantino film with it’s level of violence.

None of this would really work with the incredible lead performance of Wagner Moura at it’s center either, who is just magnetic on screen. Beyond simply being a force to reckon with in terms of looks – he’s just so insanely sexy and attractive here that it adds to his magnetism – his facial acting is sublime and he does so much with very little. Indeed, Moura has to be subdued here cause the character demands it in every second of his waking life, never knowing when the ball is going to drop or when the inevitable rot and corruption of his country will attack him. He’s surrounded by an absolutely stellar supporting cast here, elevating an already tight, layered script that gives all of it’s characters different views on the regime to paint a full picture.

As somebody who isn’t Brazilian, I likely cannot fully grasp the full societal context behind The Secret Agent, but I know an important piece of cinema when I see it. And The Secret Agent, with all of it’s nods to classic cinematic history and it’s glorious grindhouse aesthetics, is not only an important piece of cinema but one that feels right at home with the best throwback pictures. It’s exactly the kind of wild swing that I feel we need more of in not just mainstream fare but also auteur fare – something that feels genuinely unique, different, and off kilter in the best way possible. A fantastic flick and one of the year’s most intriguing, engaging, and engrossing.