City of God (2002)

A poster for Cidade de Deus, or City of God. Foregrounded is a frantic chicken, fleeing from a large gang of teenage boys, some of whom are holding guns. The whole poster is washed in orange and blood-red.

Vital stats:

Director: Fernando Meirelles & Kátia Lund. Language: Brazilian Portuguese. Review on: First watch (home).

Review:

Oh I knew I was in for a treat with this one right from the opening sequence, with one chicken watching another being butchered at a street food stall–with rapid camera cuts around the busy street set to the beats of the music being played–before managing to frantically slip its bonds and flee, pursued by a gang who quickly and WILDLY unnecessarily start trying to shoot the chicken to catch it. You KNOW there’s some THEMES getting opened up here, making it a great way to set up the film as well as an In Media Res to build back up to after dropping back to the 60s.

Is it good?
VERY. Great score, great cinematography, and apparently some fucking excellent coaching and directing because behind-the-scenes info relates that the directors circumvented the lack of professional black actors in Brazil at the time by just hiring directly out of the favelas, some from Cidade de Deus itself, most of whom had never acted before. You would NOT know it from the performance the cast gives, especially the child actors, who are absolutely remarkable. They’re relating a lot of their real experiences living in the slums, but it’s still a skill to actually perform that on camera comfortably, you know?
Is it fun?
Nnnnnnoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. It’s DARK. Occasionally there’s a funny moment, like one woman getting sex advice from her friend, but it’s very quickly followed by that woman getting beaten with a shovel and buried alive by her husband for cheating on him. It’s a film about people getting sucked into gang violence and how much that shit sucks. It’s very much not fun.
Is it queer?
Nope. People keep calling each other faggots, but just as an insult. Nobody here is canonically queer. There is a very strong read, however, on Li’l Zé as a repressed gay man, between his intense relationship with Benny (the only one who can calm him down without being subjected to violence) and his extreme performance of violent hypermasculinity, as if compensating for feeling unmasculine in other respects. He’s also very touchy-feely with other male characters in general, and his sexual advances towards women always seem to be tied into some kind of power trip.