Electricity comes to a remote Brazilian community in Vinícius Girnys' patient, observational documentary.
The director's beautifully shot feature debut takes place in the lush, coastal region of Paraty in Ponta Negra. In a 21st-century world connected by computers and cellphones, a six-member family—including the youngest child, Samuel—lives much like their ancestors, fishing for a living, washing clothes by hand, and using candles for light after sundown.
The film explores not just a lack of financial resources, but also a lack of access. The family has a gas stove but no electricity or running water, and they look forward to the convenience greater availability will bring. As the film begins, they catch, grow, pick, and kill the food they eat (including the evisceration of a boar, which may make some viewers squeamish). Dialogue is sparse, and Girnys allows many scenes to unfold in silence, without music, as the family goes about their day. The candlelit moments have a painterly quality—faces shine and eyes sparkle—even as the family remains wary of the dangers posed by unattended flames.
As the family continues living their lives, workers bring electricity poles by boat, drag them across the beach, and install them in the forest—Paraty is so remote that most supplies arrive by boat. Sueli, the mother, eagerly anticipates having a washing machine, a shower, and a television. Rustic as her life may seem, she’s better off than her own mother, who married at 10 and had her first child at 11.
At the same time, trawlers have been decimating the local fish population. With the arrival of electricity, Sueli hopes for tourism and suggests opening a bar, but her husband Eliseu isn’t interested. As businesses spring up along the shore, however, he takes a job at a restaurant. Soon, the family acquires a refrigerator and a television, and the children begin spending evenings in front of glowing screens.
Years pass, and everything—and nothing—changes. Their oldest daughter leaves home, while another grows into a pink-haired truant plotting her escape. Beyond Samuel, none of the children are identified by name, although the end credits list three surnames, suggesting that Sueli may have had children before meeting Eliseu, as the eldest have different last names.
Samuel and the Light isn’t a depressing film—especially with Girnys and Pedro Cortese’s appealing cinematography, even if the heat often feels oppressive—but it ends with the sense that electricity hasn’t improved Sueli’s life in the way she had hoped. She no longer scrubs clothes by a stream, but the shift from a close-knit agrarian community to a tourist destination seems to have reduced family time rather than enriched it.
Recommended to viewers—academic and non-academic alike—interested in technology, the environment, and gender studies, especially in the context of Brazil and South America. Winner of the New Directors Competition at the 2023 São Paulo International Film Festival, Samuel and the Light illustrates how something is always lost when tradition yields to convenience.
What makes this environmental documentary relevant to technology and sustainability courses?
This film explores the environmental and cultural impact of introducing electricity to remote communities. It’s a perfect case study for classes examining sustainable development, environmental justice, or global infrastructure challenges. Students can reflect on the trade-offs between modernization and tradition, and how environmental changes affect gender roles, community cohesion, and local economies.
How can Samuel and the Light support studies in Women’s and Gender Studies?
The documentary highlights intergenerational gender dynamics through the character of Sueli, the mother, who eagerly anticipates modern conveniences while navigating a historically patriarchal society. Her reflections and role in the family offer rich material for discussions on motherhood, labor, and autonomy in rural South America—topics central to many Women’s and Gender Studies courses.