Sabu, a member of a primitive Amazonian tribe, is exiled from his homeland. Can he find a place in modern Brazil, or he will he end up jailed or executed for violating the complicated laws that govern the society at THE END OF THE RIVER?
The Tories/Conservatives of Great Britain were great believers in knowing one's place in society, and staying there. This movie is as direct an advocate for that position as I have ever seen. Sabu, once he is exiled from his tribe, is a man lost. He does not understand the customs. He trusts the wrong people -- particularly the members of a shady labor union. He does not trust the great white fathers who do nice things like save his pay for him. Even the local Catholic priest can't do a thing with him, and figures he is on a slide to Hell. So it's no surprise that our hero is on trial for his life, through no particular fault of his own. Everyone in this movie knows that Sabu would have been far better off if he could have just worked things out with his tribe...
Needless to say, the artistic viewpoint at work here produces one peculiar movie. Though everyone in the film is supposed to be Brazilian, some of the actors attempt an accent, and some simply go on screen with their BBC upper-crust or cockney accents intact. The catholic priest is made to mouth sentiments that are completely against Catholic doctrine. And Sabu, who lights up many a film with his aggressive cheerfulness, must play sullen and (even less typically) wear a shirt.
The result of all this is a movie that is, at times, fascinating, with a tragic determinism that suggests film noir and Fritz Lang, and at other times, annoying, suggesting condescending lectures from Prince Charles about the virtues of simple living. Give it a tumble, if you don't think you'll mind the occasional cinematic lecturing. The first half of the film is better than the second, when the script's essential condescension to its main character begins to really hurt Sabu's performance.
The Tories/Conservatives of Great Britain were great believers in knowing one's place in society, and staying there. This movie is as direct an advocate for that position as I have ever seen. Sabu, once he is exiled from his tribe, is a man lost. He does not understand the customs. He trusts the wrong people -- particularly the members of a shady labor union. He does not trust the great white fathers who do nice things like save his pay for him. Even the local Catholic priest can't do a thing with him, and figures he is on a slide to Hell. So it's no surprise that our hero is on trial for his life, through no particular fault of his own. Everyone in this movie knows that Sabu would have been far better off if he could have just worked things out with his tribe...
Needless to say, the artistic viewpoint at work here produces one peculiar movie. Though everyone in the film is supposed to be Brazilian, some of the actors attempt an accent, and some simply go on screen with their BBC upper-crust or cockney accents intact. The catholic priest is made to mouth sentiments that are completely against Catholic doctrine. And Sabu, who lights up many a film with his aggressive cheerfulness, must play sullen and (even less typically) wear a shirt.
The result of all this is a movie that is, at times, fascinating, with a tragic determinism that suggests film noir and Fritz Lang, and at other times, annoying, suggesting condescending lectures from Prince Charles about the virtues of simple living. Give it a tumble, if you don't think you'll mind the occasional cinematic lecturing. The first half of the film is better than the second, when the script's essential condescension to its main character begins to really hurt Sabu's performance.