On Location: The Secret Agent

Kleber Mendonça Filho’s latest cinematic offering, The Secret Agent, plunges viewers into the vibrant yet menacing atmosphere of Recife, Brazil, in 1977. Far from a mere escapist fantasy, despite its initial sun-drenched, confetti-strewn Carnival scenes, the film is a taut political thriller that meticulously unpicks the insidious reach of Brazil’s two-decades-long military dictatorship. It follows the desperate plight of Armando (portrayed by the compelling Wagner Moura), a man entangled in the regime’s web, as he plots his survival and eventual escape from a country gripped by fear and surveillance. The film masterfully juxtaposes the effervescent joy of street celebrations and the colorful cultural tapestry of the Northeast with the dark, pervasive dread of state repression, creating a layered narrative that has garnered significant attention on the international awards circuit, including mentions for prestigious accolades.

Mendonça Filho, a director celebrated for his incisive social commentary and profound connection to his native Brazil, uses The Secret Agent as an opportunity to return to his hometown of Recife. Here, he paints a complex portrait of a city brimming with inherent contrasts, utilizing its historic movie theaters, bustling public parks, and sultry waterfronts to weave a narrative that is deeply personal yet universally resonant. The director’s intimate knowledge of Recife becomes a storytelling tool, allowing him to navigate Brazil’s past and present through tangible, evocative locations. In an exclusive conversation, Mendonça Filho elucidated how these very real places shaped the film’s unmistakable visual identity and thematic depth.

"We shot 90% in Recife, which is where I come from, and so I know the city very well. It’s a strong character for a film," Mendonça Filho explained, underscoring his deliberate choice to root the narrative firmly in the Pernambucan capital. His familiarity allowed him to write scenes with specific locations in mind, treating Recife not just as a backdrop but as a living, breathing entity integral to the plot. Beyond Recife, the production ventured briefly to Brasília and São Paulo. "I wanted the locations to be very specific," he noted, explaining that while cinematic tricks could easily simulate these cities, he aimed to authentically portray the distinct architectural and atmospheric differences between Brazil’s major urban centers, even in their fleeting appearances.

The journey to Brasília, for instance, offered a specific architectural language. The scene where Armando consults his lawyer, who then seeks a payphone, prominently features the capital’s modernist structures. "We found a wonderful location right at what they call the commercial sector in Brasília, which was mostly built in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s," Mendonça Filho recounted. This era of construction is characteristic of Brasília’s planned urbanism, designed by Lúcio Costa and Oscar Niemeyer, and provides a stark contrast to Recife’s more organic, colonial-influenced cityscape. Similarly, a particular shot involving a postman delivering a telegram was carefully framed to capture Brasília’s unique aesthetic, reinforcing the notion that each city contributed its own distinct character to the film’s geographical mosaic.

Mendonça Filho’s passion for urban landscapes shines through: "I really love cities, and I think cities are great characters in cinema." He drew parallels to iconic films where cities like New York, Los Angeles, London, Madrid, and Rio de Janeiro are not just settings but active participants in the narrative. For The Secret Agent, this philosophy elevates Recife to a central role, allowing its history, architecture, and people to speak volumes about the socio-political climate of 1977.

The film’s primary timeline is 1977, a period deeply entrenched in Brazil’s military dictatorship (1964-1985). This authoritarian regime was marked by severe repression, censorship, arbitrary arrests, torture, and enforced disappearances, creating a climate of pervasive fear. While Carnival pulsed with its traditional exuberance, offering a momentary release from daily anxieties, the shadow of state surveillance loomed large. Mendonça Filho meticulously recreates this era, showcasing how the dictatorship’s "tentacles" reached into every facet of public and private life.

Capturing Recife’s 1977 essence presented a unique challenge and opportunity. Mendonça Filho observed that the city’s downtown area is "preserved—but as I often say, it’s preserved through neglect." Beginning in the 1970s, capital and commercial activity shifted away from city centers to burgeoning shopping malls, a phenomenon mirrored in many global cities. This economic exodus inadvertently safeguarded many historic structures from modern redevelopment. "In the films that I’ve made, I’ve put a spotlight on city centers," he stated, suggesting a symbiotic relationship where cinema can rekindle appreciation for these forgotten urban hearts. Viewers, seeing these vibrant locales on screen, might be prompted to rediscover their real-world counterparts, fostering a renewed sense of civic pride and preservation.

The transformation of the central post office serves as a poignant illustration of temporal change. Opened in the late 1940s, this grand edifice was once a hub of communication, processing countless letters, parcels, and telegrams. Mendonça Filho recalled it from his childhood, a testament to its former prominence. However, with the advent of the internet and digital communication, its functions have dramatically diminished. "They only use 10% of that space and it’s for storage now," he lamented, detailing the extensive clearing required for filming. The building, with its imposing architecture, thus becomes a symbol of technological advancement’s double-edged sword: progress that renders once-essential infrastructure obsolete, yet simultaneously preserving it as a relic of a bygone era. A window shot, revealing the bridge and bustling traffic, starkly contrasts the building’s faded glory with the relentless march of modern life.

Recife’s historic movie theaters play a particularly evocative role in The Secret Agent. The city once boasted about 15 major cinema palaces in its downtown area, two of which have been remarkably preserved. The Teatro do Parque, dating back to 1919 and featuring stunning Belgian cast iron work, underwent a magnificent restoration six years ago. The São Luiz, a central "character" in the film and a 1952 marvel, is currently undergoing its own restoration but remains largely intact, from its original light fixtures to its grand halls. "It’s full of history, because literally, millions and millions and millions of people have gone through the main door at the São Luiz over the last 70 or so years," Mendonça Filho reflected. These theaters, deeply woven into the city’s collective memory, provide an "incredibly photogenic" setting that instantly transports viewers to 1977, embodying the film’s theme of memory and the enduring power of shared cultural experiences even amidst political turmoil.

Other significant locations underscore the film’s profound connection to Recife’s urban fabric. The 13 de Mayo park, a downtown green space, is depicted as a known cruising location, reflecting the often-hidden aspects of urban life and individual expression, particularly poignant during a repressive era. The film’s registry office, a place where Armando navigates bureaucratic hurdles, was ingeniously shot in the Ginasio Pernambucano, the country’s oldest public school. This venerable institution, which educated many luminaries of Brazilian literature and music, lent an authentic, albeit slightly worn, gravitas with its original wooden floorboards and high ceilings. Mendonça Filho recounted his own experience of obtaining his ID card in the late 1980s, recalling the "unforgettable sound" of names being called out, a detail he meticulously recreated. The choice of an educational institution for such a function subtly highlights the state’s pervasive control over individual identities, even within spaces meant for intellectual freedom.

The apartment building inhabited by Dona Sebastiana, a pivotal character who shelters political refugees, is described as "probably the last remaining building of that style from the 1940s." This structure, still home to numerous tenants, represents a resilient way of urban living throughout the 20th century. Mendonça Filho shared an anecdote about showing the film in the building’s yard to 200 residents, revealing its precarious future: a construction company eyes the property for redevelopment. The film, by elevating the building to a "character," has inadvertently galvanized local sentiment, making residents more vocal in their desire to preserve it. This real-world resistance mirrors the film’s narrative of struggle against oppressive forces, blurring the lines between art and advocacy.

A striking aspect of The Secret Agent‘s production was the geographic concentration of its key locations. "Most of the locations in the film are walking distance from each other," Mendonça Filho noted. The cinemas, the central post office, the Carnival celebration site, and even the final barber shop scene are all within a few hundred meters. This tight spatial proximity transformed the downtown area of Recife into an organic, sprawling studio. This unique production approach fostered a positive atmosphere among local residents, who, according to the director, "suspected that the film would make the place where they live cooler, and that’s exactly what happened." The film not only utilized the city but also contributed to its valorization and cultural reawakening.

Brazil’s iconic public phone booths, or "orelhões," are another potent symbol recurring throughout the film. These distinctive, shell-shaped structures evoked deep nostalgia for Mendonça Filho and many Brazilians. Originally yellow when operated by the state telephone company until the early 1990s, they turned blue after privatization, ironically without an improvement in service. "The irony is that they’ve been rediscovered by the film, and on social media, just as the few remaining ones all over the country are going to be removed because they have become obsolete," he observed. The film thus captures them at a critical juncture, memorializing their cultural significance just as they fade from the urban landscape, serving as a powerful reminder of technological evolution and its impact on daily life.

Mendonça Filho, being from Recife, acknowledges that his film inherently shines a spotlight on his hometown, a region often overshadowed by Brazil’s more globally recognized southern cities. He frames this not as a primary goal but as a "byproduct" of authentic storytelling. He draws parallels to Pedro Almodóvar’s portrayal of Madrid in films like Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown and Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!, which offered a refreshing alternative to Hollywood’s dominant urban settings. Similarly, Gus Van Sant’s My Own Private Idaho showcased Portland, Oregon, with an authenticity that resonated deeply.

"When you look at some American films that take place in cities like New Orleans, it’s really the outsider’s point of view on New Orleans—they make New Orleans look and feel really exotic and strange," Mendonça Filho critiqued. His approach, in contrast, strives for an unassuming yet meticulously composed depiction. "I really love something like My Own Private Idaho because it’s just Portland. It’s a city where cinema exists as a storytelling device, but it’s still a city. You can see the streets and the cars and the people." This commitment to portraying Recife with genuine respect, avoiding exoticization, is central to The Secret Agent‘s power. The city is presented as it is—complex, beautiful, flawed, and resilient—a true character whose silent narrative is as compelling as the one unfolding onscreen. Through Mendonça Filho’s lens, Recife transcends its geographical bounds to become a universal metaphor for memory, resistance, and the indelible spirit of a place shaped by its history and its people.