Mark Reviews Movies: THE TERRITORY (2022)

The Territory, National Geographic Documentary Films

Follow on Facebook | Follow on Twitter | Become a Patron

Review by Mark Dujsik | August 18, 2022

The Uru-eu-wau-wau people have land, located in the Brazilian rain forest and legally protected by the country's government, and local farmers, both independent ones and larger operations, want more land. That's the central conflict of director Alex Pritz's documentary The Territory, which follows both of these parties, as well as a passionate ally of the Indigenous group, through the rising tensions, a massive political change, and a seemingly inevitable move toward violence.

This film may look at both sides of this issue, which helps us to understand why there almost certainly will not be a simple solution to the problem. However, Pritz's allegiance clearly—and rightly—rests with the Uru-eu-wau-wau tribe.

If there's a fault here, it's that the Indigenous community almost feels like a secondary concern, compared to either the farmers, invading the protected land and clearly patches of forest, or that ally, a woman who works for a non-profit organization trying to protect the rain forest and the people who live within it. The main subjects, who are being wronged by outsiders and ignored by the very institutions that are meant to defend them, only take the central focus near the end of the film, as a young leader realizes he can use media to fight.

That leader is named Bitaté, who's still a teenager when the tribe's elders name him as the Uru-eu-wau-wau's primary emissary. Pritz's coverage of this story begins in 2018, as things seem relatively peaceful and idyllic for the community, which has seen its numbers dwindle from a couple thousand to fewer than 200 in recent decades. When presidential candidate Jair Bolsonaro promises to do away with the government's protection of Indigenous land rights, there's some worry, and when that man is elected, local or aspiring farmers begin clearing sections of the forest.

Neidinha Bandeira, who has worked with the Uru-eu-wau-wau and other similar groups for decades as part of a not-for-profit organization, is more or less the de facto representative for the community in the documentary. While she is a compassionate and convincing advocate, her story, as her life and the lives of her family members are threatened by anonymous individuals, still feels a step removed from the people who really matter here. A couple years pass. Someone within the community is murdered, and the land-grabbers now bring another threat from the outside world: COVID-19.

The film's shortcomings do become fairly obvious, especially when Bitaté and his clever approach to public relations and fighting back against the farmers show how vital he and his community are to this story. Even without greater participation from the Uru-eu-wau-wau people or more focus on them on the part of the filmmakers, though, The Territory does present a fairly thorough dissection of the conflict here. Admirably, that examination remains from the perspective of understandable human needs—to have a safe home for oneself and one's family—and desires—to make something of value with one's life and work.

Back to Home

Buy Related Products