Brazil (1985)

The Three Orders of Sam Lowry

Objective Review:

 I found that the scene which clicked for me during the film was one of Sam’s dreams. In his attempts to rescue the woman in his dreams, he encounters a giant samurai, dressed in armor and armed with an enormous spear. Even though the other monsters in his dream world are repulsed by it, Sam rushes in to save the woman. Just as he and the samurai prepare to fight, the samurai vanishes. Confused, Sam turns, looking for his enemy. The giant samurai reappears and succeeds in cutting off part of his wing and sending him scrambling for his life. Regaining his feet, Sam darts forward to strike it with his sword, but again it vanishes. Wary now, Sam turns slowly, and when it reappears he engages it in a brief battle before it again vanishes. After one more skirmish, the giant’s spear becomes stuck in the ground. When Sam charges it, the giant vanishes again, but only briefly. It charges Sam, stopped only by his sword in its foot. The samurai suitably occupied, Sam pries the giant spear from the ground and tears open his opponent’s arm and stomach, causing the giant to scream and fall, flames pouring from its wounds. He then approaches and removes its mask, only to find his own face behind the monster.

Reaction:

I find myself tiring of watching films that do not provide intelligent characters. The film seems disjointed at times, with Sam having a firm hold of the Idiot Ball. While not confusing, the ending of the film became emotionally draining very quickly, particularly after it became obvious that it was only Sam’s fever-dreams during torture.

Interpretation:

In order to understand the film, I turned to Lacan’s three psychoanalytic orders. Brazil displays all three extensively, they all “relate to something significant in [Sam’s] daily sense of the world”, and even Sam himself comes to realize that by the end (Loos).

The imaginary takes hold the moment we see Sam. His home has an impressive set up of alarms, breakfast-makers, and other such tools, and they work so long as Sam’s clock does. His work is busy, men in grey coats hustling up and down, papers being finished and spirited away only to be replaced with others. The government is polite and efficient; the girl who answers the Central Services phone is quick to explain, the quick arrival of Central Services to Sam’s home, the kindness of his father’s old friend in getting Sam a promotion, the arrest of “Archibald Buttle.” Everything in Sam’s world is “situated around the notion of coherence” (Loos).

The reality of the situation is much more dire. The moment that Sam’s clock is off or the electricity fails, he has no way to wake up, and, on time or not, his coffee is poured on his toast, rendering both useless. The moment his boss turns his back, the formerly busy workplace is loud with the sounds of the latest movie. The men seem to put more work into maintaining the image of work than doing actual work, as they are all quite busy again by the time their enraged boss opens the door. Although Central Services’ phone is answered by a live person, that person can do nothing for Sam, she doesn’t know if or when help will arrive and can only repeat the same scripted phrase. When, shortly after his call, two agents from Central Services do arrive, he is forced to turn them away so they do not die, protesting “I’m a stickler for paperwork” as they try to barge into his home. In retaliation for this, they tear his apartment to pieces and freeze it. They might not know he saved their lives, but for all they know his home was invaded by a terrorist and he had no idea. His father’s friend is kind, but Sam is miserable at the promotion all but forced upon him, hating the rush of his new workplace. Lastly, a man loses his life for the sake of a letter. The real world is splintered and fragmented, few things being true when looked at without clouded glasses.

The symbolic world is even clearer. While their imaginary world falls apart around the, the citizens of Sam’s world remain determinedly oblivious. His mother ignores not only his protests against her interference in his life, but also the bombing and the bloody people only feet from her. The agents from Central Services hide behind paperwork, holding up papers to allow them to do as they please with Sam. Mrs. Buttle is offered a receipt for her husband. Only a few characters, such as Tuttle and Jill seem angered with the system. Tuttle has disregarded his paperwork in exchange for doing good work and although Jill is baffled by red tape, she pushes until the government wants her dead.

The film is Sam’s realization of these three orders. For all of his life, he has remained in the imaginary. He even ignores those wounded in bombings until Jill corrects his lack of action, despite it being implied that the bombs are responsible for his father’s death. He is thrust into clinging to the symbolic during the film, desperately trying to accept repeated assurances that the imaginary world is real. He even uses this himself, showing his badge to the guards who would arrest Jill to hold them at bay. During his final scenes, he understands the truth. The world is cruel without reason and apologies to no one. The government is infallible, no matter what. He understands the tragedy of Buttle’s death and the foolishness of Jack’s insistence that everything outside of the norm is evil and connected.
The scene brought this together for me when I realized that the giant samurai was representative of Sam's lack of ability to fight back. The real was that Sam could do nothing against the government alone. He couldn't save Jill, he couldn't help Mrs. Buttle, he couldn't even save himself. In his imaginary world, the samurai was symbolic of his helplessness. Every time he tried to fight back, his target vanished.
Sam was a young man of a good family, content with his lot in life, brought low simply because he found truth. Because he and everyone else were part of a world more imaginary than even his own dreams.

Loos, Amanda. 2002. http://csmt.uchicago.edu/glossary2004/symbolicrealimaginary.htm

Forcault. The Order of Things. Preface.

Dylan Evans. An Introductory Dictionary of Lacanian Psychoanalysis