Get the Goat

There is something inherently noble about a man who will cross a continent to save a goat. Not just any goat, mind you, but Celestina—a four-legged local celebrity from the dusty town of Guaramiranga who serves as the "heritage" of the community. When Celestina is kidnapped by what appears to be an international smuggling ring, the town’s only policeman, Bruceuilis, decides he isn’t going to wait for a miracle. He packs his bags, his bravado, and his inexplicably sharp martial arts skills, and heads for the concrete jungle of São Paulo.

I watched this while trying to assemble a flat-pack bookshelf, and I’m fairly certain the reason I have three leftover screws and a slightly slanted top shelf is because I kept dropping the hex key to watch Edmilson Filho deliver a roundhouse kick to a thug’s face. It’s the kind of movie that demands you stop multitasking because its energy is just so infectious.

High Kicks and Heritage Goats

Get the Goat (or Cabras da Peste in its native Portuguese) is a fascinating artifact of our current streaming-dominated landscape. Ten years ago, a hyper-local Brazilian buddy-cop comedy about a Northeastern policeman might never have made it past a regional theatrical run. Today, thanks to Netflix’s global reach, we get to see Edmilson Filho—a man who is essentially a human Looney Tunes character with the leg-span of a flamingo—showcasing his specific brand of "Shaolin do Sertão" to the world.

Filho plays Bruceuilis (yes, named after Bruce Lee and Willis, obviously), a cop who takes himself with the deadly seriousness of a man who thinks he’s in a Michael Bay movie, even when he’s dealing with stolen livestock. He is paired with Trindade, played by the legendary Matheus Nachtergaele (you might recognize him from the classic City of God). Trindade is a bumbling police clerk who has lived his entire career behind a desk because he’s terrified of his own shadow. The "odd couple" trope is older than the film industry itself, but these two breathe fresh life into it through sheer commitment to the bit. Nachtergaele plays the coward with such pathetic, hang-dog charm that you can’t help but root for him to finally land a punch.

Stunts, Slapstick, and São Paulo

For a film that leans heavily into comedy, the action choreography is surprisingly tight. Director Vitor Brandt clearly understands that the best action-comedies treat the "action" part with respect. There’s a warehouse fight early on that feels like a genuine homage to 1980s Jackie Chan. The camera stays wide enough to let us see Edmilson Filho actually doing the work—using the environment, flipping over tables, and using his limbs like elastic bands. It’s physical, it’s rhythmic, and it has a tactile weight that is often missing from the CGI-slathered blockbusters we’re fed on a weekly basis.

The film does lean into its budget-conscious nature with a wink. The villains are gloriously over-the-top, led by a menacing-but-not-too-menacing Juliano Cazarré, and the plot moves with a frantic momentum that papers over the fact that, logically, none of this makes a lick of sense. But who cares about logic when you have a scene involving a high-speed chase and a goat in the backseat? The stunts are practical, the falls look like they actually hurt, and Trindade looks like he was dressed by a thrift store that exclusively caters to sad accountants.

The Streaming Era’s Global Village

What I appreciate most about Get the Goat is how it refuses to sanitize its "Brazilian-ness" for a global audience. It is deeply rooted in the culture of the Northeast (the Sertão), from the specific slang to the accordion-heavy score by Guilherme Garbato. Yet, because it speaks the universal language of the Buddy Cop Movie, it never feels inaccessible. It’s part of a growing trend where streaming platforms allow regional genre films to exist without needing to "Americanize" their soul.

It’s not trying to be a "prestige" film or a social commentary on the state of Brazilian policing—though there are a few cheeky jabs at bureaucracy if you look closely. Instead, it’s a celebration of the "B-movie" spirit. It knows it’s a bit silly. It knows it’s a bit cheesy. But it plays every beat with such genuine affection for the genre that it’s impossible to be cynical about it. Apparently, Edmilson Filho and producer Halder Gomes have been honing this specific style of martial-arts-infused regional comedy for years, and this feels like the polished culmination of that partnership.

If you’re looking for a film that explores the deep psychological trauma of law enforcement, go watch The Wire. But if you want to see a man use a goat as a tactical distraction while performing a perfect split, Get the Goat is your Sunday afternoon sorted. It’s a breezy, 97-minute reminder that sometimes the best way to handle the chaos of the modern world is to just lean into the absurdity, grab a partner you don't particularly like, and go find your heritage animal. It’s fun, it’s fast, and it’s got a heart as big as the São Paulo skyline.