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For American tourists Rio de Janeiro represents a romantic vacation
paradise, complete with upscale resorts, fantastic beaches, and
beautiful women. American tour packages never include a trip to the
slum area far away from the city center that isolates the city's poor
into a hopelessly crime ridden, drug infested asylum ironically called
the City of God. It would take a miracle from God to escape Rio's slum
gang system; in fact, it's actually a miracle that co-directors Katia Lund and Fernando Meirelles gain intimate access to film City of God (Cidade de Deus).
Beginning with a similar Goodfellas view of the slum gangs, the film introduces Rocket (Alexandre Rodrigues) as the narrator who knows the history of dynamics of the neighborhood but dreams of being a photographer (a motif that works its way into the tightly wound plot). The filmmakers also texture the narrative with the same gritty documentary feel that Bunuel achieves in his devastating Los Olvidados by using many non-actors from the actual City of God neighborhood with hand held cameras while effectively incorporating better aspects of Tarantino's Pulp Fiction narrative structure.
The opening sequence is exhilarating and colorful, but only a preview of what is to come. With lively Brazilian music, we get a terrifying chicken's eye view of the neighborhood—flashes of a knife sharpening, brief cuts of a chicken slaughter, a cooked chicken, a terrified look on another chicken. Seeing her inevitable fate, the chicken panics and escapes with hoards of residents in hot pursuit—the camera often tracking low to put us in the same helpless, frantic position. The symbolism is obvious, but works. The chase ends with Rocket poised between two rival slum gangs, and we are plunged into another universe.
In fact, we are tossed back about ten years where Rocket is now a young boy on the rundown soccer field in the dusty housing projects. To get the whole picture Rocket explains, we have to go back to the days of the notorious Tender Trio—who present a microcosm of the choices available to City of God inhabitants. Life in this impoverished area only varies from Purgatory to pure Hell, yet a few seek escape. In a universe where the oldest gang leaders are young men, survival depends on watching your back—and the final bullet often comes from the most unexpected sources. Turning your back on a seven-year old can be a huge mistake! As one young boy relates,
" Listen man, I smoke, I snort . . . I've been begging on the street since I was just a baby. I've cleaned windshields at stoplights, I've robbed, I've killed. . . I ain't no kid, no way. I'm a real man."
During the sixties, gang life revolves around thievery. The Trio robs a gas truck and escapes the subsequent police chase by tossing their identifying shirts and joining in the neighborhood soccer game. Early on a distinction between working people and gangbangers is made, where both are essentially tolerated in a world where basic survival becomes the goal. A member of the original Tender Trio, Rocket's brother gains sympathy when he urges his younger brother to never touch a gun. Inevitably, Rocket attempts a life of crime, but he doesn't have the heart--his potential victims are always too "cool."
Within the slum gang culture, Li'l Zé (Leanadro Frimino da Hora) dreams only of power. Too ugly to score with women (and possibly homosexual), Li'l Zé rises to power by whacking his rivals and taking over much of the drug trade in the 70's. While you'd think this would lead to a measure of affluence, it doesn't appear to within such a climate of poverty, where getting by to live another day becomes a way of life. Obsessed with gaining respect and leadership recognition Li'l Zé may also have sexual longings for his charismatic best buddy, Benny (Phelipe Haagensen), but those must be repressed in such a macho culture that tosses epithets of "faggot" towards the weak. Benny's friendship protects Li'l Zé's only potential rival from all out gang warfare, so this provides palpable tension throughout. After all, "Bums don't stop; they only take a break."
Surprisingly little violence is shown directly on screen, but its effects are clearly felt. We fear for the lives of the characters portrayed positively, knowing that the system is rigged against them—whether they turn to religion, escape, or to the working world. The main strength of City of God comes from the way it gives human faces to a world that none of us would ever see. Not even regular Rio residents gain entrance into this world, plainly demonstrated when Rocket's photographs become prized objects for the local newspaper that he begins working for as an assistant delivery boy.
The hand held cameras reveal intimate details about each character, so it's difficult to separate the fictional aspects derived from Paulo Lins' novel of the same name from the real deal (the novel itself is based on actual people). The real coup rests with the brilliant neo-realistic casting of adolescents from the area that don't have to act—they already know the body language, the favela slang, and attitudes of these characters. Filming on location in a neighborhood very similar to the actual City of God lends authenticity (the actual suburb was deemed too dangerous), and the strong script doesn't romanticize the subject, offer simplistic solutions, or paint a moralistic message over the landscape.
In short, City of God ranks among the most powerful films in the past decade and should be added to the "must see" list. The specific subject matter may be unique to Rio, yet similar patterns apply to any urban landscape where poverty and hopelessness exist. Winner of a number of festival awards, the film is finally getting released wider into American arthouses. It's the same film that Bunuel would have made with a larger budget and given today's technology, and it deserves a much larger audience. Promising no panacea to cure the impoverished conditions, the film enlightens through its brutal realism and may shake loose the apathy many feel towards the underclass. |
