Lately, social media has become a breaking news platform dominated by citizen journalism, bringing attention to issues and people ignored by the mainstream. An example of this is the case of Ilha de Marajó, which became the focus of many Brazilian influencers and artists last week. They utilized their platforms to address the increasing incidents of child violence and exploitation in the region.
This issue is not new in Brazil. The film "Anjos do Sol" (Rudi Lagemann, 2006) is almost two decades old and is based on NGOs and media reports from 2005 onwards about sexual exploitation, numbers around 937 cities and 100,000 cases. It follows the journey of Luzia (Fernanda Carvalho), paralleling the toxic capitalist cycle. In the not-so-distant backdrop, it intertwines with other issues related to the objectification of women. While it does not contain explicit content, I felt chills due to the trivialization of barbarity and the implications of the scenes. The predominant use of handheld camera suggests the commonality of this issue and the cold colours its location: in the shadows of society.
"Anjos do Sol" begins with Sr. Messias, the hunter of prostitutes, on his way to recruit Luzia, a child. He starkly contrasts with her neighbourhood of straw houses, as his formal attire symbolizes his financial power, while the others lack it. Furthermore, the mention of malaria serves to highlight the impoverished condition of the area. The film portrays Luzia's parents, who previously sold her older sister, Raquel, and now intend to profit from Luzia. However, both believe they would get a breadwinner and better conditions.
They are transported to the nearest major city by boat. The river may symbolize indigenous beliefs about purity, emphasizing Luzia's status as a child who has been rendered voiceless since her sale. Later, she travels by a red truck, accompanied by the playing of a forró song titled "Cuidado, menina!" (Beware, girl!), which serves as both foreshadowing and a symbol of the danger ahead. At this point, Luzia is no longer alone; other girls are hidden in the back of the truck with the merchandise. This claustrophobic and dark sequence of scenes illustrates their social position: invisible and trapped in poor conditions.
The girls arrive in Nazaré’s auction in an isolated location with old male farmers to buy their “goddaughters.” At this sequence of scenes, they are on a stage and treated as merchandise by Nazaré, who sells their advantages to the greyheads. Lourenço buys Luzia (now Maria), and Inês wants to his 15-year-old son to lose his virginity. This change of name pays a relevant role in the narrative. Luzia is the name of the oldest human fossil found in South America. While, Maria symbolizes innocence and purity. In parallel, it portrays a tradition that perpetuates the toxic masculinity values, the old cousin of pornography, to lose virginity with a prostitute.
In the farm, Inês and Maria are received by a Black nameless employee who offers them an alcoholic drink and says them will be his by the end of the month. In parallel with their sexual violence, with one of them being unconscious due to the amounts of alcohol, this reception delves in another issue related to the African slavery. When the slaves worked in the farms and get their owners’ crumbs. That is the root of the institutional racism, which it is still recurrent. Lourenço’s approach to his son to dominate and addresses him "faggot." It indicates this stigma; Brazil is the country that leads in LGBT+ violence.
From the farm, they travel by helicopter to an indigenous and extreme poor isolated community near the Amazon rainforest, named Socorro, which means "help" in Portuguese with gold miners. There, Inês and Maria visit a nightclub brothel called "casa vermelha" (red house), clearly highlighting the danger associated with it. Saraiva, the pimp, assaults one of them (Celeste), who is the only literate person there. This fact plays a pivotal role in highlighting her from the others, who are constantly brainwashed and manipulated by the pimp. They receive gifts to work in decrepit conditions and with limited instructions, without access to safe sex sources. For these girls, there is an extra layer due to their underage status. This emphasizes the claustrophobia mentioned earlier. Each of the women has a moment in the spotlight to share their stories. There are attempts to escape, and the consequence for one of them is Inês's death, a modern approach to a Middle-Ages punishment.
There are moments in the film that utilize metaphors. Celeste's pregnancy symbolizes hope and the promise of a better future, especially as she plans to honour our protagonist. Additionally, there is a scene where they play with shadows cast by their fingers on the wall; one of them creates the shape of a bird, symbolizing freedom. These events foreshadow Maria's eventual escape from the brothel and her journey to Rio de Janeiro. The tense sequence in the rainforest depicts Maria leaving the animalesque humans behind, returning them to their natural habitat in the jungle, as she travels from one end to another via trucks.
In Rio de Janeiro, Maria seeks out a public telephone booth to call Vera, a contact provided by Celeste. Vera assists her in obtaining a new identity legally; Maria becomes Isabela. However, Maria's arrival in Rio de Janeiro does not lead to immediate safety or refuge. Instead, she finds herself in yet another brothel catering to foreign clients. This underscores the global nature of the issue, emphasizing that sexual exploitation is not exclusive to Brazil.
Isabela's journey concludes with her escape, as she hitchhikes with an unknown individual, directionless and uncertain of her future. She resorts to working as a freelance prostitute, exchanging her body for her “freedom.”
"Anjos do Sol" blends fiction with reality at its core. As a result of its viral spread, by the end of last week, Ilha de Marajó had garnered attention from reputable newspapers and subsequently came under investigation by Jorge Messias, the Attorney General of Brazil. However, the local government dismissed the reports as fake news, citing false data and videos sourced from outside Brazil.
Ilha de Marajó fell victim to fake news, but the underlying issue has been occurring silently in the poorest regions of Brazil with limited access and basic sources. They are the citizens of paper. Numbers in the statistics. Subject-matter in the news. Subject-d0es-not-matter to society. Ghosts that haunt the ones who came across everywhere in Brazil from the biggest known cities, like Rio de Janeiro, to smallest unknown villages like Socorro.
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