When Wagner Moura stepped onto the Golden Globes stage in January 2026, he became the first Brazilian actor to win Best Actor at the ceremony. Speaking in Portuguese, he dedicated the award to Brazilian culture. Behind that moment lay a dramatic story about government power—how it can strangle a film industry, then bring it roaring back to life.

The Death and Resurrection of Brazilian Cinema

Between 2019 and 2022, Brazilian cinema nearly vanished. President Jair Bolsonaro slashed public funding for the arts, forcing filmmakers to fight for survival. Director Kleber Mendonça Filho doesn't mince words: "Culture was extinguished in Brazil" under Bolsonaro's far-right government. Film festivals shrank their programs. Production companies shuttered. The pipeline of new films slowed to a trickle.

Then came 2023. President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva returned to power and reversed course entirely. In June 2024, Lula announced 1.6 billion Brazilian reais—roughly $320 million—for the audiovisual sector. He regulated screen quotas requiring cinemas to show Brazilian films. Petrobras, the state-owned oil company, began sponsoring international tours for Brazilian movies.

The results arrived faster than anyone expected. By early 2025, Brazilian films were breaking box office records in American theaters. Two films in particular rewrote the history books.

Two Films, One Message

"The Secret Agent" and "I'm Still Here" couldn't have timed their success better. Both films tackle Brazil's military dictatorship from 1964 to 1985, exploring anti-fascist resistance at precisely the moment Brazil was prosecuting Bolsonaro for attempting a coup. (He received a 27-year prison sentence.)

"I'm Still Here" tells the true story of Congressman Rubens Paiva, who disappeared during the dictatorship. His wife Eunice spent 45 years searching for answers. Fernanda Torres won the Golden Globe for Best Actress—the first Brazilian woman to do so—and earned an Oscar nomination. The film became the highest-grossing Brazilian movie ever made and won Brazil's first Academy Award.

"The Secret Agent" swept even bigger. At the 2025 Cannes Film Festival, it collected Best Director and Best Actor awards, plus the Art House Cinema Award and the Fipresci Prize. At the 2026 Golden Globes, it won Best Foreign Film alongside Moura's acting win. The Academy nominated it for Best Picture, Best Actor, Best International Film, and Achievement in Casting.

Lula understood what these films represented. He called "The Secret Agent" essential to remembering "the violence of the dictatorship and the resilience of the Brazilian people."

How Government Money Works

Brazil isn't inventing the wheel here. Film incentives exist worldwide, though they take different forms depending on what governments want to achieve.

Tax credits let production companies reduce what they owe the government. Canada offers a 16% federal credit on resident labor costs, with provinces adding more. British Columbia tops up to 33-35% total. Australia provides 16.5% for shooting locally and 30% for post-production work, though you need to spend at least 15 million Australian dollars to qualify.

Cash rebates work differently—governments actually write checks. Colombia returns 40% of production expenses plus an extra 41.23% transferable tax credit, assuming you spend at least $600,000. China's Qingdao region offers 40% back plus 10% on business taxes if you spend 30 million yuan or more.

Some countries get creative. Belgium uses a tax shelter system where investors get 40-45% tax credits. Austria provides straight grants covering 20-25% of production costs for films budgeted above 2.3 million euros.

The logic behind these programs is straightforward. Qualifying projects must film locally and hire domestic crews, vendors, and talent. Money flows into the economy. Hotels fill up. Restaurants serve location crews. Equipment houses rent gear. Local actors get paid. Post-production facilities book months of work.

But there's more than economics at stake. Film incentives let countries promote their culture, history, and landscapes. They build technical expertise. They create jobs for creative workers who might otherwise leave. They shape how the world sees a nation.

The Stakes of Cultural Investment

The Brazilian example shows what happens at both extremes. Under Bolsonaro, cutting arts funding saved money in the short term. But it silenced voices, drove talent away, and left Brazil's stories untold on world stages.

Lula's reversal cost hundreds of millions. Yet within three years, Brazilian films dominated international festivals and changed how Americans viewed Brazil. Two films earned multiple Oscar nominations in the same year—unprecedented for Brazilian cinema. The cultural return dwarfed the financial investment.

This matters beyond Brazil. Film industries don't survive on market forces alone, especially in smaller countries competing with Hollywood's resources. Without government support, local stories disappear. Languages vanish from screens. Cultural perspectives narrow. Technical skills erode.

Different governments choose different levels of support. Some offer modest incentives to attract foreign productions. Others, like Brazil under Lula, make cinema central to national identity. The choice reveals what leaders value—and what they fear.

The Political Dimension

There's an uncomfortable truth here: both Brazilian films succeeding internationally are explicitly anti-fascist. They dramatize dictatorship victims while Brazil prosecutes a former president for authoritarian attempts. The timing isn't coincidental.

Art and politics can't fully separate. Governments funding films inevitably shape what gets made, even indirectly. Bolsonaro understood this when he cut arts budgets. Lula understands it when he celebrates films about dictatorship resistance.

This creates a dilemma. If government funding is essential for healthy film industries, but governments have political agendas, how do we ensure diverse voices? The answer varies by country. Some use arms-length agencies to distribute funds. Others let politicians choose directly. The results differ dramatically.

Brazil's current success suggests one approach: fund broadly, then let quality rise. Both Oscar-nominated films received government support, but they succeeded on merit. Cannes and the Academy don't award films because Lula likes them. Audiences don't break box office records out of patriotic duty.

What Comes Next

Brazilian cinema faces a test now. Can it sustain success, or was this a one-time surge? The infrastructure exists—funding, screen quotas, international distribution support. But governments change. Bolsonaro's presidency proved how quickly support can evaporate.

Other countries watch closely. If Brazil's investment pays off economically and culturally, more governments may follow. If it fades after Lula leaves office, the case for sustained arts funding weakens.

The global film landscape is shifting. Streaming services distribute content worldwide instantly. Audiences seek diverse stories beyond Hollywood formulas. Technical barriers to filmmaking keep falling. But these changes don't eliminate the need for government support—they may increase it.

Small and medium-sized film industries need help competing in a global market. They need funding for development, production, and distribution. They need training programs for technical skills. They need screen quotas so local films actually reach audiences. They need governments willing to invest without demanding immediate returns.

Wagner Moura's Golden Globe moment crystalized something important. When he shouted "Long live Brazilian culture!" in Portuguese, he wasn't just celebrating personal success. He was acknowledging that his achievement depended on political choices—on a government deciding that culture matters enough to fund it generously.

The Brazilian cinema revival isn't just a feel-good story about artistic triumph. It's a case study in how government decisions shape cultural production. It shows what's lost when support disappears and what's possible when it returns. Most importantly, it proves that film industries don't flourish by accident. They require sustained investment, political will, and leaders who understand that a nation's stories matter as much as its economy.