From Gabriel Mascaro (Neon Bull) comes the question “Does human bureaucracy exist, or is that just another name for privilege?” Brazil 2027, a time when the party of Supreme Love has surpassed Carnival as the country’s #1 attraction. Joana (Dira Paes) uses her position as notary at the divorce registration office to persuade couples to keep their marriages alive by joining the party of technobeat addicted, God-fearing, orgy-throwing sybarites. The warm side she extends cult followers is nothing compared to the cold and judgmental treatment afforded all who oppose. Infertility plagues Joana. No matter how hard she and her husband Danilo (Julio Machado) try to conceive — a process that entails his hanging upside down, bathed in ultraviolet rays — it appears God wants to punish her womb. At least that’s what she tells the priest at the drive-thru ministry. Part of the swinging God squad schtick dictates that no matter how many partners he has, a man may spill his seed only in his wife. When Joana finally does find herself with child, it’s impossible for her to pinpoint the father. What did she expect, having unprotected sex with so many partners? Or was the baby immaculately conceived? Mascaro offers up another helping of bull surrealistically flung against a neon backdrop. In my youth I never thought I’d say it, but I could have done without the repetitious simulated sex acts. On an up note, unless memory fails, not since Frank Tashlin’s The First Time has a film been narrated by a fetus. Now streaming at the Digital Gym. (2019) — Scott Marks
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