When I decided to see City of God at the London Film Festival last November, I was not expecting to hear at the film's introductory speech, that this film was in fact `one of the most anticipated screenings at this year's LFF'. After all, the festival was already well packed with sought-after films, such as The Quiet American, Bowline for Columbine, The Pianist, Dirty Pretty Things, or The Dancer Upstairs! However, I was immediately taken aback by the energy of the opening chase sequence, which powerfully and unexpectedly introduced the audience to Rio de Janeiro's most dangerous neighbourhoods, the "City of God" slum.
Critics have often compared this film with several other masterpieces, particularly Amores Perros, for confirming Latin American cinema's resurgence, and China Town, for superbly uncovering a web of violence and political scandal, but any comparison fails to do justice to Meirelles' singular achievement. This is an undeniably powerful film, and it would have been, according to all British film critics, a strong contender for an Oscar nomination in the category of Best Foreign Language Film. And here are the reasons why.
This is a stylish and visually stunning film covering three decades of the lives of residents in one of Rio de Janeiro's slums, giving a faithful portrait of its particular reputation as a `cross between an orphanage and an abattoir'.
The film is a major achievement for its screenwriter. Based on true stories, the source material was a 700-page novel by Paulo Lins, a book containing about 300 characters and 300 different plots. The screenwriter somehow miraculously produced a script that maintained not only its coherence but also the essence of the book, i.e., the sharp edges of reality and of characters defined by unusually harsh circumstances. However, the script has crucially also allowed some light in: glimpses of the humour, exuberance, and humanity of the characters. What the scriptwriter and the director did was to take all the depth and detail of a long text and reinterpret it visually. There is a central character, the narrator Rocket, who frequently interrupts the action to inform us that a certain character will be back later, and key scenes are frequently repeated. It's a device, but a good one because we always know who's who, what's what, where we've been and where we're going in what could have been more than two hours of mass confusion.
The film is a major achievement for its entire cast. All performances are remarkable. Developed over a year's improvisation, many performers were recruited directly from the slum and acted for the first time. The children acting in this film deliver some of the most convincing scenes ever caught on the camera.
The film is a major achievement in cinematography. There is a different visual style for each decade, thus helping to position the scenes in its right context. The style subtly changes from the traditional framing of early scenes to jerky camera movements, jumpy editing and a riot of colours (as if to challenge the growing crude reality), while remaining attractively cinematic.
The film is a major achievement in editing. In one word: electric!
The film is, last but not the least, a major achievement for its director, Fernando Meirelles, one of Brazil's best-known commercial directors. In City of God, Meirelles does everything with his camera: he keeps it still, cruises it handheld in documentary fashion, dives in reaction to violence, twists around in panic. The director masterfully uses harsh lighting, fast cutting, speeded-up action, jump cuts, moving the film along with lightning speed. Meirelles never dwells on anything.
Meirelles' flair and lightness of touch do not conceal the wide-ranging social and political insights the film offers through its engrossing narrative, which is driven forward by exhilarating camerawork and scorching soundtrack. This film is a triumph, and, its effect is not easily summarised in a movie review; it has to be experienced.
The question that remains, and which will never perhaps find an answer, is why such a powerful film has been overlooked by the Academy and not been awarded with an Oscar nomination.
Critics have often compared this film with several other masterpieces, particularly Amores Perros, for confirming Latin American cinema's resurgence, and China Town, for superbly uncovering a web of violence and political scandal, but any comparison fails to do justice to Meirelles' singular achievement. This is an undeniably powerful film, and it would have been, according to all British film critics, a strong contender for an Oscar nomination in the category of Best Foreign Language Film. And here are the reasons why.
This is a stylish and visually stunning film covering three decades of the lives of residents in one of Rio de Janeiro's slums, giving a faithful portrait of its particular reputation as a `cross between an orphanage and an abattoir'.
The film is a major achievement for its screenwriter. Based on true stories, the source material was a 700-page novel by Paulo Lins, a book containing about 300 characters and 300 different plots. The screenwriter somehow miraculously produced a script that maintained not only its coherence but also the essence of the book, i.e., the sharp edges of reality and of characters defined by unusually harsh circumstances. However, the script has crucially also allowed some light in: glimpses of the humour, exuberance, and humanity of the characters. What the scriptwriter and the director did was to take all the depth and detail of a long text and reinterpret it visually. There is a central character, the narrator Rocket, who frequently interrupts the action to inform us that a certain character will be back later, and key scenes are frequently repeated. It's a device, but a good one because we always know who's who, what's what, where we've been and where we're going in what could have been more than two hours of mass confusion.
The film is a major achievement for its entire cast. All performances are remarkable. Developed over a year's improvisation, many performers were recruited directly from the slum and acted for the first time. The children acting in this film deliver some of the most convincing scenes ever caught on the camera.
The film is a major achievement in cinematography. There is a different visual style for each decade, thus helping to position the scenes in its right context. The style subtly changes from the traditional framing of early scenes to jerky camera movements, jumpy editing and a riot of colours (as if to challenge the growing crude reality), while remaining attractively cinematic.
The film is a major achievement in editing. In one word: electric!
The film is, last but not the least, a major achievement for its director, Fernando Meirelles, one of Brazil's best-known commercial directors. In City of God, Meirelles does everything with his camera: he keeps it still, cruises it handheld in documentary fashion, dives in reaction to violence, twists around in panic. The director masterfully uses harsh lighting, fast cutting, speeded-up action, jump cuts, moving the film along with lightning speed. Meirelles never dwells on anything.
Meirelles' flair and lightness of touch do not conceal the wide-ranging social and political insights the film offers through its engrossing narrative, which is driven forward by exhilarating camerawork and scorching soundtrack. This film is a triumph, and, its effect is not easily summarised in a movie review; it has to be experienced.
The question that remains, and which will never perhaps find an answer, is why such a powerful film has been overlooked by the Academy and not been awarded with an Oscar nomination.