Of how a chicken escaped alive

Rating: 10/10 (10 March 2005)

Let's imagine for a split-second that you have not read a line about 'City of God' as you click Play in your remote. As the footage starts, the camera snaps back and forth in a frenzy, people dance the samba, a party is on the make, a poor chicken watches as her mates become chicken wings. And hence we get to the big chicken run. It's the most brilliant scene of the whole movie - in fact, the whole movie revolves around it. Around this frantic scene and the shooting that follows and that sadly shows the reality of thousands of Brazilians in Rio and elsewhere. There is no space in Paulo Lins' novel for the idle hedonism of 'Capitães da Areia', the renown Jorge Amado classic that tells us the story of a junior delinquent gang in the streets of Salvador in Bahia. 'City of God' simply has no space. Not even space for the viewer. From the first scene onwards, you are permanently reminded that you aren't but a viewer, that you are outside, that you have absolutely not the slightest-faintest-slimmest idea of what it feels like to be inside. The narrative structure is a strike of genius in that sense. Not that it was a cutting-edge idea - it has been done time and time again. But the manipulation of at least three hand-held cameras, the constant sound of samba and the relapses of the story, together with the sheer vivacity of the original dialogues (mind you, I do mean the original, extremely nuanced Rio favela-slang Portuguese dialogues!!) make the movie possible to be watched without post-traumatic-stress. You are outside, and you know it. Your whole body is either stiff or numb, uncomfortable in any case. That strange butterfly-cold-revolving sensation in your stomach reminds you that you are not comfortable. The way you breathe (or don't)reminds you that you're not comfortable. The way you bite your knuckles or shake your head in disbelief, perhaps the dampness of your eyes when that young child cries in fear of being shot dead reminds you that you are not comfortable, that this is not your world. Sometimes, in your deep discomfort, your thoughts will go ashtray, only to be rescued back by the next still, the next title, the nest flashback that requires your attention. That is the stylistic exercise that achieves the objective of keeping you focused and in your seat. That is the role Meirelles responsibly takes as film director.
The rooftops of 'City of God' in the '60s remind me of Soweto. The street scenes in the '60s remind me of Soweto, Jo'burg today. Or Gaza. Or Bagdad. Or Monrovia. Or Mogadiscio. Or Rio, for the matter. See a pattern here? There is no innocence any more. There is simply the ignorance that another life is possible outside those impossible invisible walls of the favela. There is crime and punishment, cause and consequence, shoot and shoot-back, or better yet, shoot-before. It could be a war anywhere in the world. Yet, it's the city you choose to go to for holiday. You'll be dazzled after you watch these 130 minutes. Meirelles allows you the luxury of enjoying the story, despite the violence contained in it. But do stop to think about it for a minute afterwards. Think: how many of those real-life actors, casted in a real-life favela in Rio do you believe had a similar fate since 2002? Think again. This is the harsh reality. Imagine this was a documentary - you would need counseling after watching. But you do need to know what lies behind Morro-do-Pão-de-Açúcar (Sugar Loaf Mountain). Some wars happen in the gut of our society - in Rio as in Paris or L.A., and 'City of God' is there to remind you.
And, well, contrarily to what you thought, the worse in Rio is not that your camera gets knacked. Now you've learned that you'll never see the worse, lucky you... F.y.i., the chicken escapes alive (clever chicken!).