The Edge of Democracy (dir. Petra Costa), 2019

The last 30 years of Brazilian politics is more than just a solid foundation for a film, it is an entire beginning, middle, and end. Filmmaker Petra Costa attempts to capitalize on the rise, fall, and deceit at the heart of Brasilia, the modern capital of Brazil and center of its politics. The Edge of Democracy is a visually stunning and impressive work, with incredible access into unfolding historic events for the country, as well as the orgasmic modern architecture of the capital city.

Following a decades-old dictatorship, where dissenters were tortured and often killed, Costa poignantly states that at age 30, she is the same age as a democratic Brazil. Costa narrates much of the beginning of the film, providing necessary historic context before transitioning into the idealist Brazil under Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, known simply as Lula. Sadly, this is not where Costa ends her often try-hard narration. With the access Costa had, this documentary needed little added voice over. We are witness to footage from the last decade as though we were a fly on the wall: we see intimate political discussions, heated phone calls in cars, and vulnerable moments from some of the highest progressive voices in Brazil. Coupled with archival footage and leaked phone conversations, the viewer realistically has all they need to navigate the troubled world of Brazilian politics. Instead, Costa desperately tries to instill her own political beliefs on the viewer, despite the fact that most would come to the same conclusion by the end of the film (if not far earlier). Documentaries always have a point of view, but Costa effectively saying “this is bad and corrupt” in as many big words as possible, takes away from the viewer feeling like they came to the same conclusion on their own. Do we need an interjection about how bad something is, when we witness what arguably is a coup? No. Nor do we need such an interjection when we hear a phone call as former Brazilian president, Michel Temer, (who only achieved office after impeaching elected president Dilma Rouseff) orchestrates hush-money payment once he claws his way into the top office.

The politics of Brazil are fascinating to watch and, at moments, eerily similar as an American observer. The theme of the film is how fragile democracy is and how easily it can be lost with ill-intentioned politicians with a party majority. The congress of Brazil in 2015 is a mirror to one we witness in the United States in 2020. Perhaps this is why the film has resonated with an American audience and is nominated for Best Documentary Feature at the Academy Awards. The rise of Lula and uneven footing of Rouseff, despite their best intentions, is an engaging story. To witness the universal political tragedy of entering office with best intentions, only to fall victim to corruption cemented in the political system, and all that leads to and results from the act is remarkably intimate. And, in the end, it was all The Edge of Democracy needed. If I had been able to mute 90% of Costa’s narration, save for the beginning and end (and perhaps a line or two in between), The Edge of Democracy would have been a stunner. The film is still worth a watch for the access and visuals alone, but it is frustrating to see a film held back from excellence due the frequent insertion of its own creator.