As a man, I am sure that I don’t deserve a say in what’s the right way and the wrong way to depict sexual assault through movies and TV shows. I belong to a culture where things like marital rape, sexual violence, and harassment of women have become such an everyday occurrence that it doesn’t stir the conscience of the nation unless these cases can be used for political gain or to demonize a community. I have grown up through an era where celebrities not only used “rape” to define physical exhaustion but also used it as a punchline to explain why rote learning is wrong (I am talking about Three Idiots). Hence, even if I try to explain what the difference is between a story that deals with this topic in a sensitive manner and a story that veers into the sexploitation subgenre, I think I’ll end up saying something stupid. With all that in mind, I think it’s fair to draw the line at a rape scene shot from the perspective of the victim, right? And since Rivers of Fate crosses that line pretty explicitly, I have to question its intent as well.
Fernando and Quico Meirelles’ Rivers of Fate, adapted from Edyr Augusto’s Pssica by Braulio Mantovani, Fernando Garrido, and Stephanie Degreas, tells the story of Janalice, who has sexually explicit videos of her leaked by her boyfriend. Instead of shielding her from judgement, her Bible-thumping parents, Lizete and Pedro, send her off to her aunt Daiane’s place, so that they remain unaffected by her sinful activities. Daiane’s husband, Ramiro, turns out to be a pedophile, and in an attempt to run away from this household, she ends up in the clutches of the local creep, Mario, who sells her off to a gang that works for Ze Elidio. One of the gang members, Prea, falls in love with Janalice and vows to free her by buying her off his boss. But before he can achieve that goal, he has to deal with Mariangel. Who’s that? She’s a former guerilla fighter who lived with her husband, Joao Mauro, and son, Guilherme. One night, they were attacked by Prea and his team of gangsters, and they killed both Joao and Guilherme. Since then, Mariangel, along with her son’s boyfriend, Ze Do Boi, has been on a quest to slaughter all those who took the lives of their loved ones. Hence, the narrative hinges on two things: Mariangel and Ze Do Boi’s revenge, and Janalice’s escape from the world of flesh trade.
Rivers of Fate is basically Taken if it were turned into a miniseries. It’s here to say that child prostitution is bad, which is something that we all know and agree upon. It wants to show us that we live in a man’s world, which is again something that we all know and hope to change. The only major spin on the formula we get is that instead of a parent saving their child, it’s somebody else’s parent that saves a child while trying to avenge their own child. What exactly does that achieve? Well, given how Janalice’s parents trust God more than their own ability to turn Brazil upside down for their daughter, I guess it’s a commentary on how pointless religion is. But since the writers don’t dwell on it too much, probably because they are too afraid to irk all the religious fanatics out there, that critique of faith doesn’t become all that apparent. As for Mariangel doling out some retributive violence, I suppose it’s a case of a woman in a male-dominated field; you know, because these kinds of stories usually have a man as the white knight. Does Mariangel being a woman offer any new perspective on this theme, or does it just remind women to arm themselves against men? As crude as it may sound, it achieves the latter because it’s simpler to say that.
Now, let’s talk about why Rivers of Fate seems exploitative to me, even though it wants to talk about sexual exploitation. For starters, there’s the victim’s POV of a rape scene. As soon as I realized what the creators were trying to achieve, I was repulsed both by the act that was being portrayed and how it was being portrayed on-screen. If I sound sensitive while trying to explain why I felt that way, please, forgive me. Okay, so, I am assuming that three kinds of people are watching this show: rapists, victims of rape, and those who don’t fall in either of the aforementioned categories. When a rapist is going to see that scene, do the creators really think that they are going to change their mind and be prompted to never commit a crime again? When a victim of rape sees that scene, do the creators think they’ll feel grateful that they’re being reminded of a moment that scarred them? As for those who know that rape is a crime and empathize with victims, what’s their takeaway supposed to be? I don’t have the right answers to these questions, but the fact that I am wondering about the creative choice to do that to portray Janalice’s plight instead of thinking about Janalice’s plight means that something is deeply wrong with the mindset of the creators.
Rivers of Fate certainly had some instances of great cinematography, editing, color grading, and sound design. Certain chase sequences and tense moments were put together really, really well. The performances from the entire cast, especially Domithila Cattete, Marleyda Soto, and Lucas Galvino, were excellent. I know that anybody who will dislike the content of the show will assume that it’s all the actors’ fault, but I don’t think that’s the case at all. They are doing what they have been told; all we can hope is that all the explicit scenes featuring the young actors were done whilst prioritizing their mental health. If you have to question anyone, it’s the creators that should be put in the hot seat. By the way, I am not denying the fact that sexual exploitation exists in real life. I am a realist, and I know that we live in a cesspool of a world, where women are exploited endlessly. However, when this part of our culture is analyzed through the lens of entertainment, I have to ask whether it’s coming from a place of empathy or if it’s yet another sickening attempt to exploit women. From where I am standing, it doesn’t look good. If anybody thinks otherwise, please, feel free to educate me.
