‘The Buriti Flower Review: Indigenous History Unfolds In A Striking Mix Of Nonfiction And Drama

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A dynamic and intimate fusion of ethnography and poetic narrative , Buriti lorea ( Crowra ) explores the unique memories of the Crajo people of Brazil. Yet its story, rooted in cultural traditions, political resistance, and a deep connection to the land, is in many ways an American story. It is a story of trauma and resilience. natives die, their ancestral homes survive. And as the recent documentary The Territory makes clear, it is the story of an ongoing and urgent struggle to protect entire ecosystems from destruction and destruction.

Uncertain is the second Jury Prize-winning film from directors João Salavisa and René Nader Mesora, who explored Brazilian indigenous culture and mythology in The Dead and Others (2018). Again in competition at Cannes, and winning the Ensemble prize, they produce another portrait of colonized Brazil and focus on something other than documentation and interpretation of Western views. They wrote the screenplay for The Flower of Buriti with three local residents, two of whom are the main characters of the screen, and it was filmed over 15 months in four villages of the Kraholandia Reserve in the Krahoya area of ​​Tocantins. . .

Mixing non-fiction with sometimes light, sometimes well-drawn and always compelling fiction, the film follows three relatives in a village; Patpro's mother (Ilda Patpro Krakho); and Shaman Uncle Patpro Choyno (Francisco Choyno Crajo).

Patpro is the feminist heart of the film, who wants to join the mass demonstrations in the capital to protest the Bolsonaro government's agricultural and environmental policies. In a subtle twist, local women leaders, including Sonia Guajajara, a political activist from the neighboring state of Maranyao, watched her speech on cellphones. But Jotate, who has nightmares that show his shamanic powers, fears that his mother will go to Brazil, where he will be much smaller than the coupe . It's never clear whether this term repeated throughout the film is "white," "European," "armed exploiter," or some combination thereof, but the impact of the word is felt every time it's uttered.

By maintaining the reserve, the Hoino protect against poachers fueled by a long history of wealthy ranchers who claimed (i.e. stole) land to raise cattle. The camera flashes as he and several others, including a brave old man, rescue one of the local resident's beautiful macaws from a group of intruders; birds are highly respected in large cities.

With bright streams of heavenly beauty, Hoino and his pregnant wife discussed the importance of being wary of natives and loggers, barbed wire fences and cattle herders. Citizens gather to discuss whether or not to go to a meeting in Brazil. On one side of the dispute, led by Patpro and his uncle, there is a hopeful prospect. on the other hand, the accumulation of pain from experiences.

The definition of this brutal saga, the massacre of 1940, plays continuously in the middle of the film. There is no title to designate the date. Salawiza and Mesora immerse the audience in a mesmerizing mix of deception, intrusion and betrayal driven by an off-screen narrative. The effects of prolonged bloodshed were felt years later, when mothers, fearing a second plot to attack the village after the youth left, begged their sons not to go to a distant city for military training.

But the film is full of party energy. At this time, the villagers are preparing for the big Ketuwaja festival and Bunga Buriti is full of children's games and coming of age rituals. Mesora is a cinematographer working in expressive 16mm, and these visuals are incredibly powerful, as are the graphics, whether through vivid night shots, walking ghosts, or the familiar director's intro, all of which are fully revealed in the visuals. contrast - scene of a woman giving birth.

Salawiza and Mesora's films offer a vivid capsule version of nearly a century of aggression and genocide, as well as a vivid picture of the continuing struggle for justice. Kraho, which speculators considered wasteland ripe for commercial exploitation, was considered sacred. It is hard to imagine that the ancients thought of nothing but profit, or to listen to those who chose to live in harmony with the land instead of conquering it. But once again the barrier suddenly fell. At one point in the film, Hoino remembers the town's schoolchildren visiting the town and how confused he was when they tried to touch him and the other Kraho children. "Maybe," he thought, "they want to know that we, like them, are carnal."

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