International industries: the view from Brazil

In the latest of our international industries series, we turn to Brazil – tracing a cinematic tradition shaped by political upheaval that’s enjoying a renewed wave of global recognition

Words Oliver Webb 

Brazilian cinema is experiencing a determined resurgence. In 2024 alone, 312 local feature films were released theatrically – a record high and more than double the annual output seen before 2017.

That surge has coincided with unprecedented global visibility. Walter Salles’ I’m Still Here (2024) not only earned nominations for best picture and best actress for Fernanda Torres at the 97th Academy Awards, but also became the first Brazilian-produced film to win best international feature. The following year, Kleber Mendonça Filho’s The Secret Agent (2025) extended that momentum with multiple nominations, marking a second consecutive best picture nod for a Brazilian film.

 

A fragmented industry

Brazilian cinema has passed through distinct historical phases. For actress Fernanda Torres, who has worked across film, television and theatre since the eighties, its evolution is inseparable from the country’s political history.

“I started in the period following Cinema Novo, the Brazilian Nouvelle Vague,” says Torres. “Cinema Novo was marked by a remarkable generation of directors – Glauber Rocha, Nelson Pereira dos Santos, Arnaldo Jabor and Joaquim Pedro de Andrade. It was an intellectual cinema that sought to translate Brazil. By the time I became an actress, that era had already passed, and the military dictatorship had closed the country off from the world.”

As Torres came of age during the seventies, Brazilian cinema was shaped by Embrafilme, a state-owned company created under the military government to support national production.

“Iconic films such as Xica da Silva (1976) and Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands (1976) existed thanks to this subsidy, facing direct competition from American blockbusters,” Torres explains. “Cinema never truly flourished as an industry in Brazil, unlike television. The only film industry capable of sustaining itself through box office revenue was the pornochanchadas – Brazilian soft-core comedies. Many directors who dreamed of being Glauber Rocha but were faced with censorship found a way to survive in this niche, creating a genre known as pornochanchada cabeça, a mix of sex and anthropological thesis.”

Torres’ own debut in Inocência (1983) stood apart from this trend, reflecting a moment when Brazilian cinema was still searching for identity under constraint.

Favela films

With the return of democracy and the end of censorship in the mid eighties, Brazil’s audio-visual landscape began to change rapidly, opening up new space for filmmakers.

Directors such as Jorge Furtado, Fernando Meirelles and Walter Salles emerged from this period of industrial expansion. Brazil’s society had become more urban, unequal and violent, and its cinema reflected this. Films such as Héctor Babenco’s Pixote (1980) and later Fernando Meirelles’ City of God (2002) appeared as defining works in what is known internationally as the favela film movement, named after the informal, precarious urban settlements in which they are set.

At the same time, Torres notes how the tensions of Brazilian storytelling are shaped by inequality. “Brazil was the last country in the world to abolish slavery – a historical wound never resolved, reflected in our cinema,” she adds. “It is not possible in Brazil to film a drama based on bourgeois problems. It’s hard to take the trauma of someone going to a psychoanalyst seriously when millions of Brazilians lack basic sanitation.”

Cinema mirrors its historical moment. “I’m Still Here and The Secret Agent, the two Brazilian films that received awards and international recognition in the past two years, emerged as responses to the rise of the far right in Brazil,” says Torres. “The idea that the dictatorship was not so harmful gained traction during the 2018 election. People held signs calling for the return of military rule at protests and demonstrations. It seemed history might be rewritten.

“The films by Salles and Mendonça are aesthetically very different, but driven by the same need to recover a memory beginning to fade, reminding audiences what it truly means to live in a country that suspends its citizens’ civil rights.”

Political interruption

Government policies have historically impacted the country’s cinema; Torres believes this will always be the case. “Brazilian cinema relied on Embrafilme until the nineties, a state entity rooted in the nationalist protectionism of the military dictatorship,” she says. “Later, funding mechanisms were created based on taxing foreign films shown
in Brazil, through ANCINE.

“Now, there is major debate about taxing streaming companies and big tech. With over 200 million inhabitants, Brazil is a heavy consumer of internet and streaming, but it does not have any taxation policy or requirement to reinvest in the national industry. We came close to passing a law, but there was no consensus. Balancing market openness with the development of local production requires public policy – there is no way around it.”

The end of Embrafilme in the early nineties shows how abruptly support can vanish. Its closure by presidential decree coincided with a period of economic collapse, marked by runaway inflation and the confiscation of personal savings. For much of the industry, cinema ceased to be a viable profession.

“Many filmmakers became journalists or teachers because cinema simply stopped existing,” Torres recalls. “Brazil was experiencing a crisis that lasted over a decade. Many Brazilians went into exile; I was one of them. I worked in Mexico and Portugal and turned to theatre.”

Her early collaboration with Walter Salles on Foreign Land (1995) reflects that displacement. “It tells the story of Brazilian youths in exile in Portugal due to a lack of economic prospects. It mirrored my own experience. Things only changed with the Real Plan, which ended inflation. Then cinema returned with strength.”

The following years saw a renewed national industry, producing films such as Central Station (1998) and City of God. However, Torres argues this resurgence has never been stable. “In the recent four years of far-right government the crisis returned with a sharp production decline. It began to recover after Brazil overcame an attempted coup. I believe Brazilian cinema will continue this cycle – dying and being reborn at the mercy of its political and economic circumstances.”

Karim Aïnouz, whose films include Love for Sale (2006), Firebrand (2023), The Invisible Life of Eurídice Gusmão (2019) and Motel Destino (2024), argues there is legal footing in place for Brazil’s filmmakers, albeit with hiccups.

“There has always been public policy for Brazilian cinema,” he says, “but there was a major interruption in 1994 when the film agency was discontinued, which created a hiatus until around 2000, with a few exceptions. Then, in 2002, with the election of Lula, many of those policies returned.” According to Aïnouz, the film industry experienced a prolonged period of expansion over the next two decades before getting disrupted again in 2018. “Many projects were halted, and during that period streamers largely took over the market,” he says.

Following the 2022 election, that shift has since begun to reverse. “It’s exciting to see how quickly things are recovering,” he adds. “Cinema, in a country where television has such dominance, is a vital cultural and economic space. It requires sustained public support.”

Building momentum

Carol Duarte, who played the titular role in The Invisible Life of Eurídice Gusmão as well as starring in acclaimed films such as La Chimera (2023) and Malu (2024) explains that, despite recent progress and visibility, producing films in Brazil is still no easy feat. “There were important public policy advances under previous governments, but not enough for a country of Brazil’s scale. They suffered significant interruptions in recent years.”

Public policies take time to deliver results and recover after disruptions. “Today, many directors and producers still face considerable challenges,” says Duarte. “Filmmaking is always complex, but here the process can take years, and projects often fail to materialise. We have many talented professionals with original ideas who encounter barriers getting projects off the ground. For this reason, it is essential to invest in new filmmakers and in a diversity of productions, not only those aimed at major awards. The more diverse the cinema, the richer the industry becomes. The audio-visual sector generates employment, income and drives the economy. It is not a favour from the government, but a relevant productive sector.”

There is also a fundamental cultural dimension. “In a country like Brazil, which has experienced a military dictatorship and faced recent threats to democracy, maintaining active cultural production is a way of sustaining it,” says Duarte. “Cinema is a vital part of a country’s identity. When policies weaken this sector, not only does the economy  suffer, so does culture.”

According to Torres, the biggest issues facing filmmakers are the same as always: “Producing good stories, raising funds, establishing a sustainable industry, protecting independent cinema and creating laws that ensure support for national production – all at a time when fewer people are going to movie theatres. This is a habit that needs to be preserved.

“Streaming platforms have entered film production, but they provide limited theatrical release windows that should not be allowed. Streaming itself will suffer if movie theatres disappear, along with the collective audience experience.”

One other big challenge is reaching audiences. In a country where television has long been the dominant form of storytelling and has an overwhelming presence, cinema struggles to compete on an equal footing.

“The challenge is threefold,” Aïnouz observes. “First, we need to build a more accessible and democratic network of cinemas – improving distribution and exhibition so going to the movies is not an elite experience. There is already a strong foundation for production, but gaps in distribution and exhibition need significant attention. For instance, ticket prices often make cinema inaccessible to many and that imbalance needs to be addressed.”

Secondly, Aïnouz contends that the idea of what production can be should be broadened. “It is not only about the traditional feature film. There are other formats worth exploring, such as shorter series and episodic storytelling, which open up exciting creative possibilities.

“Finally, there is the question of financing and sustainability. We need to think about mechanisms like taxing streaming platforms, so they contribute more directly to local production. That could have a transformative impact on the industry.”

Looking ahead

What gives Duarte hope about the country’s future is seeing how recent momentum has inspired Brazilian people to make more films. “We are seeing more international co-productions, as well as new filmmakers emerging and finding ways to produce their work. A generation is coming of age that is following this recognition of Brazilian cinema and becoming more interested in it.”

Duarte also notes that audiences are more engaged in watching, discussing and valuing Brazilian films. “It was not as strong a few years ago,” she adds. “This blend of new talent, increased audience interest and international collaboration points to a promising future. It is something that will be reflected not only in the present but in Brazilian cinema for years to come.”

For Aïnouz, a number of extraordinary developments are taking place and we are witnessing a great rise in Brazilian cinema. He suggests that, while cultural waves of growth and decline can be disheartening, they reflect something distinctly Latin American – a continual process of reinvention.

“What is especially compelling is the emergence of a new generation of Brazilian filmmakers from increasingly diverse backgrounds,” he says. “This shift is also geographical; voices are coming from far beyond the traditional cultural centres. For a long time, film, television and fiction production were concentrated in the southeast. That is now changing. Today, we are seeing a broader range of stories that more accurately reflect Brazil’s history and its social and regional diversity.”

Overall, Aïnouz finds the moment very promising. “Alongside exhibition and distribution issues, we need to strengthen development, especially in training and screenwriting,” he notes. “Brazil does have a history of filmmakers developing projects independently, but expanding prospects in these areas would be valuable. At the same time, there is clear renewal underway. Voices and regions that were previously excluded from the conversation are now emerging, and that is exciting. There is also a growing ambition to position Brazil as a hub for international productions, although that is still in its early stages.”

Torres highlights an interesting thesis about the ‘Brazilianization’ of the rest of the world. “The world is more unequal, more insecure, more chaotic and less predictable than 50 years ago,” she says. “Brazil has been living in chaos since its founding, with stark social inequality, extreme income concentration, insecurity and growing violence. Economic unpredictability is the norm here. I think the world is increasingly resembling Brazil, and our stories seem to have something to say about this new global order.”

She adds that uncertainty in culture and the film industry reflects this shift: even major studios like Marvel cannot guarantee hits. “If we combine this with the Brazilianization of the world, we can say this is a good moment for Brazilian cinema,” says Torres. “But what Brazil urgently needs is legislation to regulate streaming and big tech. That alone would create a foundation for an industry less vulnerable to the political and economic instability that repeatedly affects the country.”

With over 200 million inhabitants surrounded by the sea and Spanish-speaking countries, Torres says Brazilians are inward-looking. “We consume our own culture and, with a sizable domestic market, we enjoy a degree of self-sufficiency,” she concludes. “This does give me hope, but also sadness, because I wish other cultures knew about Nelson Rodrigues, Machado de Assis, João Guimarães Rosa and Macunaíma or the characters Riobaldo and Capitu. Apart from Brazilian music, other art forms are limited by language and geography, and we have very little communication with the outside world.

“I think we struggle to produce universal films and feel immense pride when a Brazilian breaks out of our isolation. I believe we will continue like this – on the margins, but with a great capacity to surprise.”

This article appears in the June/July 2026 issue of Definition