A great film arrives: João Dumans and Affonso Uchôa's quietly magnificent ARABY

"Stick with it, please." I've said this before, but I don't think it has ever been more necessary or appropriate than with ARABY, the new movie from the writing/directing duo of João Dumans and Affonso Uchôa: If you stay with this quiet little film -- despite its leisurely pacing, refusal to overly dramatize, and a protagonist who suddenly shifts from the expected one to an entirely different person -- by the time you reach the conclusion of this 98-minute movie, you will have experienced labor, the workplace, love, life, death and maybe as close to the whole of humanity as any single movie is able to provide.

Filmmakers Dumans (above, right) and  Uchôa (above, left) build their small monument to the life of 90 per cent from this statement uttered by their protagonist early on: "In the end, all we have is what we remember." From this, they have crafted a tale that concentrates on but one man (Aristides de Sousa, shown below) yet takes in much of our world, building via an aggregate of detail to a conclusion that, though in no way surprising, still suddenly seems to expand into enormous compassion and understanding.

How in hell did the filmmakers manage this feat? As best TrustMovies can tell, it comes via a kind of visual and verbal poetry that, like all else here, goes nearly unnoticed -- until it suddenly begins resonating like crazy. (I may simply be slow; all this might resonate a lot earlier with you.) Maybe it has to do with that trickly transfer of feeling for a single human being into an understanding of humanity itself.

This is a Brazilian film, after all. I've long thought that Brazil seems to treat its people about as cavalierly, if not in downright uncaring fashion, as any supposedly "democratic" South American country. We see this in a government that spends oodles to host the Olympic Games only to put its populace in ever more dire straits. And via films from Elite Squad and its follow-up (that bang you atop the head with violence against the people) to the quieter, probing films of Kleber Mendonça, the great preponderance of humanity is alway given the shaft.

In Araby, this is true all over again, and yet via its protagonist and the people he meets along his journey of laboring-just-to-survive, we enter the world of the masses in a manner subtly different from other films. Here, it's via a kind of memoir our hero has composed (when we at last learn why and where he began this memoir, it becomes ever more meaningful and humane) that tells his story as best he is able.

The lovely, heartbreaking irony here comes from the fact that our hero, Cristiano, feels that he cannot communicate or express himself very well. Yet the filmmakers provide him voice and view so that he is able to give us everything we need to understand the love he feels, the loneliness he experiences and his constant need to not simply survive but to communicate.

I would think that there must be millions of workers in China and India -- hell, even some Trump acolytes here in the USA -- who could identify with and understand this movie.  There are no "labels" attached to any view here, and yet Dumans and Uchôa offer up enormous political commentary. By the time the film has come full circle, its impact has burgeoned into such collective power and momentum that, days after I've viewed it, I am still reliving and thinking about this movie.

From Grasshopper Film, in Portuguese with English subtitles, Araby opens this Friday in New York City at the Film Society of Lincoln Center, and then will hit another four cities on either coast, with -- one hopes -- even more cities to follow over the weeks to come. Click here and then scroll down to the bottom of the page and click on Where to Watch to view all currently scheduled playdates, cities and theaters. 

Life (or something like it) in an Indian textiles plant: Rahul Jain's bleak/beautiful MACHINES

Documentaries about the workplace don't come much bleaker-- nor more beautiful in terms of composition, color and artistry -- than MACHINES, the new 71-minute movie from Rahul Jain. This is his debut feature and on which he acted as director, co-editor and -producer, and even helped with the sound. Visually, it's a stunning debut, but it's a good deal more than that. Via visuals and interviews with a number of the workers, the film puts you pretty firmly into their shoes -- if and when they mange to have shoes, that is.

The first thing you may notice in Mr. Jain's doc (the filmmaker is shown at right) is that the initial worker we see manning the ovens has no goggles to protect his eyes form the sparks and flames. This, as it turns out, proves the least of the problems. Because there is no narration/ explanation (other than the visual one), we simply follow along as we see different parts of the factory in which some beautiful textiles are made, along with the workers and their various jobs.

We may have questions -- what's that dark liquid that looks like chocolate in the vat the worker is dragging along behind him via some wide white material? -- but, too bad. Just watch and learn what you can.

Fortunately we see plenty that's educational here. And after awhile, Jain begins allowing the workers to talk to us, telling us about their experience in this factory. In the background, and nearly ever-present, is the noise of the machines, whirring, whirring, whirring.

When the interviews begin, we learn some very interesting things: For instance, one man actually must take a loan out in order to get to work and earn some money at this factory. "Poverty is harassment," notes one fellow. "You can't do anything. There is no cure." Workers travels 36 hours on a train, standing up the entire time, with nothing to eat or drink unless they bring it themselves.

By the time we get to the child labor (though the kids look at least like early or middle teenagers), we're privy to moments such as one child yawning, then briefly falling asleep as he works. We also get a montage of workers sleeping. Then we finally meet or observe the owners (or maybe just their salesmen) talking about fabrics and pricing.

The coup de grâce comes with the interview with a manager/or maybe owner who is so pompous, entitled and nasty that you'll want to put your fist through his ugly face. Unionization? Well, we're told by one person here that "the workers don't unite. There is no unity here." Another explains that when the workers do unite, the bosses then learn who their leader is and have him killed. This has happened over and over again.

The end result -- those textiles -- are certainly beautiful, but at what price? As one worker explains it: "I know from my room to here, and from here back to my room. Neither do I know who the boss is nor how he looks." This may bring to mind that wonderful James Taylor song, Millworker, from the splendid but sadly unsuccessful Broadway musical, Working:
"May I work this mill for as long as I am able, and never meet the man whose name is on the label."

Finally, Mr. Jain does something both bracing and brave, as the workers confront him and his crew to tell him, "People just come here, look at our problems, and leave. Nobody takes any action." And then the fellow looks at the filmmaker and asks, "What will you do?" I would sure as hell like to think that this film might make some difference. But as one of those interviewed caps it off: "My only satisfaction is that everyone dies. Even the rich take nothing with them." Yeah -- but if India is anything like America, they leave it all to their kids.

From Kino Lorber, in English and Hindi with English subtitles, Machines has its U.S. theatrical premiere in New York City at Film Forum tomorrow, Wednesday, August 9, for a one-week run. Elsewhere? Nothing, it seems, has been booked as yet (click here and scroll down to keep current on this). But let's hope for a wider audience soon, as this documentary deserves to be seen and will pay off time spent in major dividends.