
2025 · Kleber Mendonça Filho
Brazil, 1977. Marcelo, a technology expert in his early 40s, is on the run. Hoping to reunite with his son, he travels to Recife during Carnival but soon realizes that the city is not the safe haven he was expecting.
dir. Kleber Mendonça Filho · 2025
A political thriller set in Recife during Carnival 1977, The Secret Agent is Kleber Mendonça Filho's most overtly genre-coded film since Bacurau (2019) and his most direct engagement with Brazil's military dictatorship (1964–1985). A man in his early forties — Marcelo, described as a technology expert — attempts to slip through the festive noise of Carnival to reach his son, only to discover that the city harbors its own surveillance architecture beneath the costumes and percussion. The film arrives in a period of renewed international interest in authoritarian memory films, and it consolidates Mendonça Filho's position as the pre-eminent chronicler of Recife's layered social and political life.
Mendonça Filho has built a production infrastructure rooted in Recife rather than São Paulo or Rio de Janeiro — an unusual choice in Brazilian cinema that carries both artistic and industrial significance. His production company Cinemascópio has anchored all his feature work, and The Secret Agent continues that pattern of regionally embedded, director-controlled production. Brazilian co-production with European partners has been standard for his later work — Aquarius (2016) carried French investment, and Bacurau was a France-Brazil co-production with Wild Bunch handling international distribution. The specific financing architecture for The Secret Agent had not been comprehensively reported at the time of writing, but the film was selected for the Cannes Film Festival 2025, continuing a relationship with that festival that began with Neighboring Sounds's ACID sidebar and deepened substantially through Aquarius and Bacurau. Cannes has been structurally important to Mendonça Filho: Bacurau shared the Jury Prize in 2019, and the festival's sustained attention has underwritten international distribution in markets that might otherwise overlook a Brazilian film set in Recife.
The casting draws on the network of performers — some internationally recognized, some embedded in Brazilian television and theater — that characterizes his ensemble approach. Specific cast details were not fully confirmed in available records at the time of writing; any attribution beyond what is directly documentable would risk fabrication.
The film's title and its diegetic premise both mobilize technology as a contested resource. In 1977 Brazil, surveillance technology was a central instrument of state control: the SNI (Serviço Nacional de Informações, the national intelligence service) and the DOI-CODI (the military's internal security apparatus) operated wiretapping infrastructure, informant networks, and photographic surveillance with increasing sophistication. A "technology expert" in this environment occupies a dangerous position — potentially a builder of the state's instruments, potentially a defector who knows too much about them, potentially someone recruited by resistance cells to counter state communications.
Brazil in the mid-to-late 1970s was also undergoing a distinctive domestic technology policy push: the government's nascent informatics nationalism, which would eventually produce the "Lei de Informática" of 1984, was already taking shape, and mainframe computing was being introduced into state bureaucracies and private industry. The film's historical moment therefore stages technology not merely as surveillance hardware but as a domain of ideological contest — who controls technical knowledge, who can disappear inside its circuits, and who can be made to disappear because of them.
Mendonça Filho's visual grammar has been developed in close collaboration with cinematographer Pedro Sotero, who has shot his features since Neighboring Sounds. Sotero's work with the director established a recognizable optic: long focal lengths that compress Recife's dense residential fabric, an attention to the relationship between interior and exterior light (the equatorial sun bleaching facades while interiors pool in shadow), and a documentary-inflected patience — shots that hold long enough for behavioral texture to accumulate. For a film set during Carnival, the visual challenge is pronounced: Carnival is noise, density, moving bodies, firelight and artificial color. Mendonça Filho's previous films have typically inhabited the stillness that Carnival temporarily ruptures; The Secret Agent must work inside the rupture itself. Specific cinematographic credits for this production were not fully available in reported sources at time of writing.
Mendonça Filho's editing in earlier films — Bacurau especially — deploys a structural patience punctuated by sharp discontinuities. The genre hybrid of Bacurau used editing rhythm to manage tonal oscillation between deadpan community drama and genre violence; the thriller template of The Secret Agent presumably demands more pressure on the cut, more rhythmic anxiety. Whether the film presses toward the procedural thriller's clipped economy or preserves Mendonça Filho's characteristic durational investment is one of the central formal questions the film poses.
Recife is not background in Mendonça Filho's cinema — it is argument. From Neighboring Sounds's gated residential block to Aquarius's beachfront apartment building to Bacurau's sun-hammered sertão village, the built environment functions as a map of power relations. The 1977 Recife of The Secret Agent adds a temporal dimension: the city that Mendonça Filho has filmed in the present is now rendered as it was half a century earlier, and the continuities and ruptures between these two versions of the same city form part of the film's implicit argument. Carnival, with its street stages, sound trucks, and costumed crowds, reorganizes the city's spatial hierarchy temporarily — and that reorganization is exactly the kind of liminal condition a fugitive requires. The staging presumably exploits this: moving bodies as cover, festive anonymity as tactical resource, the Carnival's sonic envelope as concealment.
Sound has been a conceptual anchor in Mendonça Filho's work since his first feature's title announced it. Neighboring Sounds organized its entire social argument around acoustic permeability — who can be heard, who can hear, what sounds penetrate which walls. Bacurau used the drone of the drone itself as a sound-design event. The Secret Agent inherits this lineage and extends it into one of the most acoustically specific environments in Brazilian culture. Recife's Carnival is not Rio's — it is defined by maracatu (African-derived percussion ensembles of considerable volume and ceremonial density), frevo (the fast, brass-heavy Pernambucan street music), and the batuque of the blocos de rua. This sound world is simultaneously celebratory and overwhelming, joyous and disorienting — a Carnival that deafens as much as it reveals. For a thriller about surveillance and concealment, sound is also always epistemology: what can be heard, what can be overheard, what is masked by the noise of the street.
Mendonça Filho's direction of actors tends toward behavioral naturalism within heightened structural conditions. His protagonists — the neighborhood observer of Neighboring Sounds, Clara of Aquarius, the community of Bacurau — are embedded in specific social and spatial matrices that generate meaning through accumulation rather than dramatic declaration. The thriller mode of The Secret Agent presumably places its protagonist under acute external pressure while maintaining that behavioral register. The interplay between Carnival's performative exuberance and the controlled concealment of a hunted man creates a natural dramatic tension between visible performance and invisible interiority.
The film operates in the mode of the political chase thriller — a genre whose grammar was largely fixed in postwar European and American cinema (from Carol Reed's The Third Man to Costa-Gavras's Z and State of Siege) but that carries particular charge in the Latin American context, where the political persecution it dramatizes is historical reality rather than generic convention. The Carnival setting introduces a carnivalesque inversion of normal social order — Bakhtin's formulation is directly applicable here — in which hierarchies are suspended, identities are masked, and the state's surveillance apparatus must work against a social environment designed to defeat it. Whether the film resolves into escape, capture, or something more formally ambiguous is consistent with Mendonça Filho's preference for endings that refuse consolation while remaining emotionally precise.
The Secret Agent belongs to a global cycle of films revisiting authoritarian periods through genre frameworks. Brazilian cinema has a significant tradition here: Bruno Barreto's O que é isso, companheiro? (Four Days in September, 1997) and Sérgio Rezende's Zuzu Angel (2006) addressed the kidnapping of U.S. ambassador Burke Elbrick and the murder of the dress designer by the military respectively; more recently, Walter Salles's I'm Still Here (Ainda Estou Aqui, 2024) returned to the dictatorship period through the story of Eunice Paiva, whose husband was disappeared by the regime. The cluster of 2024–2025 Brazilian films engaging the dictatorship era reflects both the long shadow of the Bolsonaro years (2019–2022) and the political urgency of reconstructing democratic memory in a polarized present. Mendonça Filho's contribution to this cycle is the most generically self-conscious — the thriller framework foregrounds the mechanisms of state terror rather than its domestic aftermath.
Kleber Mendonça Filho trained first as a film critic, a formative discipline visible in the analytical precision of his mise-en-scène and the density of his film-historical awareness. His debut feature, Neighboring Sounds (2012), emerged from years of short films and was developed through deep knowledge of both Brazilian and international film history. His Recife trilogy — the first two films treating contemporary Recife, Bacurau displacing to a near-future sertão — represents a coherent body of work united by spatial intelligence, class analysis, and a sustained attention to how power inscribes itself on bodies and buildings.
The political sharpness of Bacurau — which was understood by Brazilian audiences and international critics alike as a fury directed at the Bolsonaro era's authoritarian drift, even as its narrative was technically set in the future — gives The Secret Agent's historical setting a layered temporality. Writing about 1977, Mendonça Filho is also writing about now; the film joins a tradition of historical allegory in Brazilian political cinema that runs from Glauber Rocha through Nelson Pereira dos Santos and forward.
His collaboration with Sotero on cinematography and his long working relationship with sound designers across his films has produced a consistent audio-visual language. The Secret Agent appears to push that language into more overtly thriller-coded territory while retaining the authorial signatures — the spatial intelligence, the acoustic density, the political specificity — that distinguish his work from generic filmmaking.
Mendonça Filho occupies a specific position in contemporary Brazilian cinema: rooted in the northeast rather than the southeast, connected to a Pernambuco-based filmmaking community (including Juliano Dornelles, his Bacurau co-director, and the constellation of Recife directors who emerged in the 1990s and 2000s), and oriented toward international festival circulation while maintaining deep regional specificity. The "Pernambuco film revival" is a recognized phenomenon in Brazilian film history — a cluster of films from the state, beginning in the mid-1990s, that drew on low budgets, local landscapes, and a distinctive irreverence. Neighboring Sounds marked the moment when this regional movement produced a work of unambiguous international significance.
The Secret Agent is set in the Recife of 1977, when the Pernambuco film community that would eventually produce Mendonça Filho did not yet exist. But the film claims that earlier Recife as his own — an act of temporal possession, of asserting authorship over the city's entire history.
The Brazil of 1977 sits at a specific fulcrum in the military dictatorship's arc. General Ernesto Geisel, who governed from 1974 to 1979, pursued a policy of distensão — gradual, controlled political relaxation — while maintaining the apparatus of repression. The AI-5, the institutional act of 1968 that had suspended habeas corpus and concentrated emergency powers in the executive, remained in force until December 1978. The "Pacote de Abril" — Geisel's unilateral closure of Congress and rewriting of electoral rules — occurred in April 1977, just weeks after Carnival. A fugitive moving through Recife during that Carnival inhabits a moment when liberalization is being promised but repression has not yet been dismantled; when a careful reader of political signals might believe the worst was over, and when that belief might prove fatal.
Recife's specific position in this moment included a significant university sector (the Universidade Federal de Pernambuco and the Universidade Católica were centers of opposition culture and student organizing) and a labor movement that would gain force in the late 1970s. The city's African-derived Carnival culture also carried its own forms of political resistance — maracatu and coco had survived colonial and state suppression and carried continuous memory of resistance.
Power and its spatial inscription; the city as surveillance apparatus; festivity as both cover and exposure; the fragility of fatherhood under state terror; the relationship between technical knowledge and political danger; memory and the unreliability of the "safe haven" as concept. Recurrent across Mendonça Filho's work is the theme of contested habitation — who has the right to remain in a space, who is expelled, and what mechanisms of power enforce that expulsion. The Secret Agent literalizes this concern by making the protagonist's presence in his own city a criminal act. The reunion with his son, as narrative motor, introduces familial continuity against the state's drive toward erasure.
The Secret Agent premiered at Cannes 2025, and early critical attention was consistent with the festival's treatment of Mendonça Filho's previous work: serious engagement with the film's political argument, attention to its genre architecture, and placement within both his authorial trajectory and the broader Brazilian moment. Specific prize outcomes and review aggregates were not fully available in sources accessible at time of writing.
Looking backward, the film's influences are identifiable. The Costa-Gavras political thriller tradition is directly relevant — Z (1969) and State of Siege (1972, set in Uruguay under similar conditions) established the grammar of the left-political thriller that The Secret Agent inherits. John Boorman's The General and Carol Reed's The Third Man provide models of the morally compromised protagonist in a landscape turned hostile. Within Brazilian cinema, the political films of the Cinema Novo period — Glauber Rocha's Terra em Transe (1967), Nelson Pereira dos Santos's How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman (1971) — provide a national framework, though Mendonça Filho's approach is less aesthetically radical and more formally classical than Rocha's agitation. Walter Salles's I'm Still Here (2024), which won the Academy Award for Best International Film, is an immediate predecessor in the cycle of contemporary Brazilian films addressing the dictatorship's human cost.
Looking forward, it is too early to assess the film's canonical position or lasting influence. What can be said is that The Secret Agent arrives at a moment when Brazilian democracy has survived a significant authoritarian stress test, and when the cultural reckoning with fifty years of post-dictatorship memory is actively underway. Mendonça Filho's decision to work in genre — to make a thriller about the terror rather than a memorial drama — may prove to be its most durable formal contribution: the argument that the mechanisms of state repression are best illuminated not by elegiac distance but by the present-tense machinery of suspense.
Lines of influence