Is a cold blooded gangster capable of becoming Robin Hood? When a government fails its people, does kidnapping the rich and holding them for ransom qualify as barbaric? Does a Senator who embezzles billions of dollars, yet manages to use their connections to escape justice deserve to remain in power if his people will it so? Manda Bala (Send a Bullet) is a look into a society that is in near collapse. It’s politicians look out only for themselves. The good and noble of the system run into numerous road blocks in their vain attempts to hold those in power accountable. The poor see no future except for crime. The middle class view the whole situation as somehow fated, and the upper middle class are looking to protect themselves by any means available through their privilege. Such is modern Brazil. From The City of God to Favela Rising, tales of the woes of the Brazilian people have become bankable subject matter. Manda Bala hones in on one very specific issue and uses that national experience to illuminate the lives of a cross section of modern society in Sao Paulo.
Jader Barbalho, a powerful senator from the impoverished area of Para, is the core focus of Jason Kohn’s film. Barbalho came to power by dominating his region through the control of radio, television, and other media outlets. By bribing the populace with food, building materials and medical goods, he has found a way to maintain his position. In the late 1980’s Brazil developed a plan to help the poorest of it’s citizens. SUDAM was to be a grand investment project that would develop homegrown industries and small businesses with the intention of braking the cycle of poverty. The money never filtered down to the people that needed it. Through an elaborate series of faux companies, and laundering fronts, Jader Barbalho managed to steal over $2 billion in the course of a decade. Many of the companies Jader was responsible for investing the government’s money into only existed on paper. Others, like the frog farm the film spends a lot of time with, were fronts. Actually costing only $300,000, Barbalho pumped nearly $3 million into it.
In a country in which elected officials are protected from prosecution in criminal courts can anyone expect someone like Jader Barbalho not to become a bandit? So to in such a place, can one honestly expect the poor and disenfranchised slum dwellers not to turn the tables on the rich and create a cottage industry out of kidnapping? These are the ideas Manda Bala raises. Through interviews with representatives from every facet of society Kohn explores the topic. Special police who have lost faith in their work, rich men who hide in bulletproof cars, judges who can only laugh at the state of events, and kidnappers using their ill gotten gains to build waterlines and health clinics in the slums, the film delves into the heart of their motivations and desperations. It is truly a sad state of affairs, but Manda Bala never over reaches itself. The film never proposes any answers. It merely shines a light on one of the greatest financial scandals in modern politics.
It’s clear that Kohn is styling his film after the social conscious and entertaining films of Errol Morris. While he does capture the flow of Morris’ narrative, and the maestro’s penchant for colorful characters, one thing is missing from Kohn’s effort, namely the entertainment. While Manda Bala is insightful, sometimes humorous, and very timely, it manages to be bland for long stretches. The use of voiceover translation works in places, but more often than not, the speaker would have been better served by more traditional subtitles. It seems that translators weren’t always available as there are parts of the film in which subtitles are used exclusively. The immediacy of the images and body language of the interviewees are better conveyed in this fashion, and Kohn would have done better to stick to this method. It is the sometimes disjointed nature of speaker to translator, cut to imagery and stock footage, and then back to speaker and translator that can bring a sense of urgency to the translation that is not met by Kohn. It is these languid pauses of information that are Manda Bala’s greatest misstep.
Slight misgivings aside, the film works. It works amazingly well. It would have been easy, and familiar, for the filmmakers to present the SUDAM scandal in a PBS style. The engaging personal interviews, rich South American color palette, and countless instances of humor work to disarm the viewer and give pause between revelations. Sometimes these pauses lean on the boring, but when they are executed well the effect is subtle. Between laughs the absolute terror and exasperation of all those involved begins to sink in. Understanding what happened is one thing, understanding the circumstances that would allow such a thing to occur, is different, and much more important. Director Jason Kohn manages to pull all his loose threads into a coherent and comprehensive look at the ills of a society in which the SUDAM scandal could happen.