22 Sep TIFF REVIEW – ‘7 Prisoners’ is a harrowing portrait of exploitation and a gripping tale of morality

A harrowing portrait of exploitation and systemic corruption and a gripping tale of morality, co-writer-director Alexandre Moratto’s 7 Prisoners is tense and disturbing but so urgent and necessary. Moratto crafts an unflinching insight into the world of human trafficking and fuses it with a coming-of-age narrative where moral dilemmas abound at every turn. It’s still early days, but we may have found Brazil’s deserving submission for Best International Feature Film at this year’s Academy Awards.

Set in present-day São Paulo, 7 Prisoners centres on 18-year-old Mateus (a terrific Christian Malherios) who leaves his home in rural Catanduva for a job opportunity at a metal shop in the big city that promises to secure money for his impoverished family. After excitedly taking a five-hour car trip with three other young male workers, Mateus arrives at the derelict junkyard where the quartet soon realise they’ve been duped.

Overseen by the callous owner Luca (a menacing Rodrigo Santoro), the shop is more like a prison where young men are forced to work until they’ve paid back their travel and accommodation “debts” or risk brutal retribution for themselves and their families. With the local police paid off to look the other way and barbwire-covered walls locking them in, the group has no choice but to comply.

In a bid to potentially earn himself an early release, Mateus develops a strategy to impress Luca with his work ethic and ability to follow orders, which naturally puts him at odds with his fellow prisoners. But as Mateus begins to become Luca’s right-hand man, he’s soon faced with choices that may turn him from victim into aggressor.

Co-written by Moratto with Thayná Mantesso, the compelling premise of 7 Prisoners taps into notions of moral ambiguity while presenting a stark snapshot of the very pertinent problem of human trafficking. Moratto takes his time to establish Mateus as our endearing protagonist who loves his adoring but naive mother and longs for nothing more than to earn funds to take care of her. He’s kind, caring, and optimistic, which is why it’s so crushing to watch him fall victim to an exploitative scheme that will ultimately corrupt his gentle soul.

In a deeply layered, nuanced performance, Malheiros shines as the sensitive youngster forced into making impossible choices for his own release. As Mateus grapples with the nagging realisation his decisions to push for his own freedom are at the detriment of his fellow captives, it’s the damage to his own principles that will really come with a hefty price. Malheiros is given several scenes of fury, but his performance soars in the quieter, contemplative moments where Mateus internally attempts to justify his behaviour and avoid accepting the realisation he’s slowly becoming someone who’s no better than Luca.

Playing completely against type, Santoro is supremely impressive as the cruel, unforgiving puppetmaster of this wicked con. It’s a terrifying performance, but one that’s somehow still entirely engaging, particularly as Moratto and Santoro slowly peel back Luca’s layers to reveal he’s more than just a one-dimensional villain. For all his brash bravado and bullish behaviour, we soon realise Luca is also just a pawn in this game. He may hold dominion over these young men, but he’s equally at the mercy of his own masters who could dispense of him at any moment.

Luca was likely once just like Mateus, yet has risen one level higher by cannibalising his own. Whether that is Mateus’ eventual destination remains to be seen, but the growing Stockholm Syndrome-like connection between the two is certainly putting the teenager on a path he never wanted to travel. Moratto and Mantesso’s screenplay explores the idea that evil men are often created from a need to survive rather than a desire to dominate. It doesn’t excuse Luca’s behaviour, but his actions are not as clear-cut as they first appear.

There are no easy answers to be found in 7 Prisoners. Nor does it shy away from showing the brutal nature of human exploitation we often refuse to acknowledge. As Luca comments, the copper wires his captives strip are ultimately used in the city’s electricity cables, suggesting without his unscrupulous business, São Paulo would have no power. The city turns a blind eye for their own benefit, which is entirely the choice Mateus has to face to gain his liberation.

It’s the immense power of world cinema to showcase the stories you won’t find on the nightly news. Human trafficking exists in every corner of the globe, and Moratto’s film is demanding we pay attention to a crisis in his own backyard. But 7 Prisoners digs even deeper with its fascinating depiction of the moral dilemmas capitalism forces on those who foolishly believe it’s a game with fair rules. It’s heartbreaking to witness Mateus’ naivete collapse as he realises his hopes for a better life in somewhere as harsh as Brazil requires abandoning your soul. It’s an immense work from Moratto and one that deftly announces the filmmaker as one to watch.