City of God opens with a series of close-ups: a knife is sharpened on a stone, then a chicken’s throat is slashed. It’s the first death of many in the film, most of which are handled with just as little ceremony. As the film begins to detail the violent life of teenage and pre-teenage gang members in the slums of Rio de Janeiro, it doesn’t take long to realiZé the title is ironic.
City of God (Cidade de Deus), is the name of a slum, or favela, constructed in the 1960s to house (and re-locate) the homeless of Rio. The film, directed by Fernando Meirelles and adapted from a book by Paulo Lins, is based on events that took place in the favelas during the 1960s and ’70s. I had to remind myself of this factual background several times, as the story sometimes strained my credulity—although I admit this may be more a function of my ignorance than a criticism of the film. There is so much violence, so many guns, and the children involved—played by actual slum kids—are so young.
The narrator, Rocket (the beautifully impassive Alexandre Rodrigues), is an observer, but not a direct participant in most of the action. This is how he stays alive to tell the tale. The movie begins in the ’60s with the story of Rocket’s brother and his friends, who make up the “Tender Trio,” and their forays into small-time crime. This segment also introduces the character who becomes the demonic force that is Li’l Zé (played as an adult by Leandro Firmino da Hora), who rises in the second part of the film to become the neighbourhood drug kingpin. The third part and final chapter details the warfare between the rival gangs of Li’l Zé and Knockout Ned (Seu Jorge).
I’ve heard City of God being compared with Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas, and there are certain parallels. City of God’s treatment of the rise and fall of a gangster employs a similarly conspicuous visual flair, fast cutting and unusual camera angles, and it has a similarly self-conscious narrator—Rocket will interrupt the action to tell us a character will be back later, give us tangential information or provide background.
But in other ways, of course, this is nothing like Goodfellas. The violence isn’t graphic in the way Scorsese’s is, but it’s even more shocking—partly because of the sheer quantity, but mostly because of who’s doing it. The gangs are made up of children. Li’l Zé attains supremacy by his eighteenth birthday, and many characters don’t last anywhere near this long. There are no old wise guys to look up to here; this is crime organiZéd by children, and the word “organiZéd” applies only in the loosest sense. What we see is a haphazard and senseless will to power that seems to bypass any kind of consideration.
There isn’t even much reward for the gang members when they do reach the top. No one gets out of the slums; even top dog Li’l Zé is still impoverished and can’t get laid. All any of them get is a few watches and some snazzy shirts, and the ability not to have to work an ordinary job.
They do it just because it’s what you do, it seems. The characters (with the exception of Rocket), don’t consider any other possibility, and the film ends on a bleak note as the “Runts,” kids ranging from ages six to twelve, plan their own takeover. The cycle begins anew (or never stops).
It’s appropriate that Rocket is a budding photographer, as he serves as a remarkably impassive witness who records events from a distance. But he also never explains how he can stay so detached. Why is he able to steer clear of what everyone else is doing? Why is he unable to rob, let alone kill, even when (in one of the film’s more humorous plotlines) he tries? But it’s a minor quibble for a film that doesn’t attempt to delve into individual psychology. Rocket’s narration never pretends to be anything but what it is; he presents the facts, but refrains from offering comment.
Of course, not offering overt comment is often the best way to say a lot. In a slum cut off from and ignored by the rest of the country, with a police force that seems to favour one crime boss over the other but clears out when trouble starts, this is what you get. In its unflinching portrayal of a city forgotten by the rest of society, by the law, and perhaps by God, the film itself becomes unforgettable.
