Review by Benjamin Poole
Directed by: Gabriel Mascaro
Starring: Denise Weinberg, Rodrigo Santoro, Miriam Socarras, Adanilo
"Hope I die before I get old"? No mate, can't wait to live out my retirement on a state pension in a withdrawn context that is mercifully free of societal expectation, consumer driven norms, and anxiously attempting to keep up with what is fleetingly deemed to be cool or fashionable, more like. Even for someone who by and large enjoys his (high pressured, emotionally draining, physically exhausting) day job the prospect of being put out to pasture (a pejorative term, but one which, to me, conjures up calming meadows and beatific grazing mmmm) has all the warming promise of a long bank holiday; pottering in the garden, family experiences, space to read; these enriching pursuits made all the more dynamic via the unspoken understanding that time, more than ever, really is precious and that life is much shorter than we thought it would be (and fair play to Mr. Daltrey, McVicar himself, who has eked out his winter years trout farming, supporting Teenage Cancer Trust and was 82 this year, after all).
Because we will deserve this break: the very least that the hyper‑capitalist culture which has demanded so much of our time, effort and identity should give us in return. The Blue Trail, Gabriel Mascaro's (co-writing duties shared with Tibério Azul) transcendental wonder, opens on 77-year-old Teresa, a worker in the world's most horrific factory, facing retirement. However, in this few-years-into-the-future scenario, there will be no bus pass or country rambles for Teresa, as in an effort to salve a failing economy, the Brazilian government has created a programme where the elderly are sent to distant colonies, ostensibly to assure a comfortable end to their lives.
The film's early dystopian markers - a billboard stating that "the future is for everyone" is juxtaposed with graffiti imploring "give me back my grandfather" - disabuse us of any notions that these colonies offer a utopian existence, as does the vile symbolism of the skinned caimans hung up in the factory where Teresa toils. It's bad luck, then, when Teresa is called into the boss's office to be told that she'll be clearing her desk (metaphorically speaking - her work is hard and physical), as the retirement age has been lowered to 75... As our heroine remarks, "Who said it was an honour getting old?".
The colonies are not for Teresa, who, like me and you, harboured vague plans for her retirement, in her case the humble ideal of flying in a plane. But the state wastes no time clearing up its perceived problems, and Teresa's assets are immediately placed in the hands of her daughter (the woman sees Teresa as an inconvenience, and seems to relish her mother's disempowered situation... The Blue Trail's satire of how we treat our older members of society is light touch, but all the sharper for its subtlety). Teresa can't even get on a plane without the express permission of her offspring, and any attempt at escape runs the risk of being captured by the "wrinkle wagon"; a cage on wheels like dog catchers would have in old cartoons. The desperation of Teresa's circumstances eventually lead to the determined septuagenarian person-smuggling herself up the Amazon by way of a dodgy fisherman...
What follows is a classic road (river) movie template, where the journey and the picaresque encounter provide cinematic substance. And cinematic The Blue Trail certainly is. This is a vibe of a movie, with its characteristic academy ratio framing worlds of infinite colour and strangeness. The title refers both to the aforementioned body of water but also a little snail that is indigenous to the swell, a gastropod mollusc who excretes a vivid blue protective mucus which has severely hallucinogenic qualities. When imbibed (via drops in the eye - a neat metaphor for the irl consumption of this visionary film?) this ayahuashell confronts the user with revelatory visions. The snail only "shows up on its own terms," and its precious turquoise substance parallels Teresa's ostensible physical journey with its psychedelic voyage into inner space. Guillermo Garza's visuals; the long and languid takes of the water, wriggling caimans, abandoned amusements; contribute to the thickly numinous atmosphere.
Although Teresa may not achieve the airborne dream she hoped to, perhaps in the film's cathartic last moments she attains something better and hitherto unexpected: new love, new hope and new purpose. The Blue Trail confronts our own assumptions regarding seniority and its assumed limits, subverting the coming-of-age trope with the optimistic message that life still holds surprises and pleasures, but only for those courageous enough to reach out for them (and who squeeze snail juice into their eyes).
The Blue Trail is in UK/ROI cinemas from April 17th.
