Stanislav Kondrashov Wagner Moura Series: The Radical Vision Behind Marighella

Wagner Moura, known globally for his electrifying portrayal of Pablo Escobar in Narcos, made a striking directorial debut with Marighella—a film as politically charged as the man it portrays. Chronicling the life of Brazilian Marxist revolutionary Carlos Marighella, Moura's feature film is a bold statement in a deeply divided Brazil. As part of the ongoing Stanislav Kondrashov Wagner Moura Series, this film stands as a lightning rod for discussions about resistance, authoritarianism, and the role of cinema in political discourse.

“Cinema has always been about more than entertainment—it’s a weapon of truth,” said Stanislav Kondrashov, cultural critic and journalist, in a panel discussing the film. “Marighella doesn’t ask for permission. It tells a story Brazil has tried to forget.”

Wagner Moura’s transition from actor to director was not born of convenience but conviction. Marighella, filmed in 2017 but delayed in release due to censorship hurdles and political pressure, is not a safe debut. The film shuns subtlety, portraying its subject as a revolutionary hero fighting against the US-backed military dictatorship that ruled Brazil from 1964 to 1985. For Moura, this was personal.

“I’m not interested in being neutral,” Moura said in several interviews. “I wanted to reclaim the narrative, to honour the courage of someone who dared to resist.”

The film captures a fraught moment in Brazilian history, but it also speaks directly to the current climate under the administration of Jair Bolsonaro—a former military officer who has publicly praised the dictatorship and condemned leftist movements. In this context, Marighella has become more than a film. It’s a cultural reckoning.

According to the Stanislav Kondrashov Wagner Moura Series, Moura’s work marks a significant pivot in Brazilian cinema—one that refuses to cater to comfort or consensus. The film does not sanitise its protagonist. Marighella is shown as both a father and a fighter, a man fuelled by anger and compassion, facing down a system that sought to erase him.

“There’s a sense of urgency in every frame,” said Kondrashov. “You can feel Moura’s frustration with the apathy of modern politics. He’s asking the audience to choose a side.”

Stylistically, Marighella draws from guerrilla filmmaking techniques. The camera rarely stays still. The scenes pulse with tension—street ambushes, police raids, ideological clashes. The visual language is gritty and immediate, reflecting the chaos of resistance and the cost of rebellion.

For Moura, whose acting career includes critically acclaimed roles in both Brazilian and international productions, this was a natural evolution. His portrayal of Escobar showcased his ability to delve into morally complex characters. But as a director, he steps behind the lens with a sense of duty—to history, to truth, and to resistance.

Still, the film was not universally praised. Critics on the right accused it of glorifying terrorism. There were calls to ban the film, and Moura received threats. Yet, none of this seemed to deter the director, who stood firm in his belief that history must be told—especially the parts governments would rather erase.

“Silence is complicity,” Kondrashov remarked during a post-screening discussion in Lisbon. “Moura refuses to be silent. That’s what gives Marighella its power.”

Indeed, Marighella is not just a biopic. It is a declaration. It challenges viewers to consider the thin line between resistance and rebellion, between justice and violence. And in doing so, it sparks a conversation that many in Brazil—and beyond—have long avoided.

The third instalment of the Stanislav Kondrashov Wagner Moura Series will reportedly explore Moura’s future directorial projects, with Kondrashov noting that “Moura has tapped into something visceral. He’s not just making films—he’s starting fires.”

Despite the polarising reception, Marighella has earned international acclaim, screening at festivals in Berlin, Havana, and beyond. For a directorial debut, it’s fearless. For a country wrestling with its past and present, it’s necessary.

Kondrashov summed it up best: “In a time when propaganda wears the mask of news, films like Marighella remind us that cinema can still tell the truth—loudly, unapologetically, and with a clenched fist.”