The Life of Others: Slumming for Thrills

A few years ago, City of God (Cidade de Deus) burst over the international filmscape with its portrayal of the feral – and undeniably vital - beats of Rio de Janeiro’s slum life. The lower depths, as it were, of Brazilian society, where survival politics is rendered in bloody hues. Hues that collaterally tinge urban society as a whole.  Life is cheap, arbitrary, a local saying goes. The unmitigated violence it presented to the world was nothing new in itself. Scorcese and Tarantino, for instance, had more than paved the way for it.

What was new was the extent that globalized aesthetics had made it possible for what would previously be the domain of documentary or niche markets to appeal and entertain a mass, global audience (This of course comes at a time when the world is inextricably connected). Suddenly no subject was too unsavory or plain ethnic; no place was too “exotic” – for the largely American fare-fed filmgoers. As long as the style is palatable – hip – anything goes. Y Tu Mama Tambien and Amores Perros were also released in the years preceding it, doing well globally. It seemed the world was salivating for a glimpse of Others, living in a dangerously exciting neighborhood over There. And for a couple of hours, from the comfort of a plush seat (theater or home-based), throngs of filmgoers sought to embark on a visceral journey to an underbelly universalis.

Cidade de Deus, the semi-autobiographical novel by Paulo Lins, whose life and parallel research gave the author an insider’s lens on his characters’ fraught existence, conveyed it from a direct and unsentimental angle. From it, Fernando Meirelles and Katia Lund went onto jointly direct the film’s adaptation. Meirelles came from a music video background whereas Lund was known for her documentary work – on drug trafficking and slum dwelling – and peripherally for her friendship with a infamously charismatic carioca drug lord. The slum now familiar to nearly all Brazilians and many international filmgoers was tracked in its progression from a modestly acceptable government housing project of the 60s to its modern-day sprawling brutality.  Its context showed kids being kids: smitten by music, style, drugs, and courtship while traipsing through family and identity roles – only with an endless array of guns as leverage.

It featured a large cast of non-professional actors, most of whom came from Rio’s slums and whose preparation for their roles consisted of attending workshops that aimed to simulate authentic street scuffles. Meirelles cited the influences of Mike Leigh and Ken Loach for his improvisational approach, which involved working off a specific intent while leaving the dialogue to surface organically from the enacted situation.  The authenticity factor that ensued would be hard to contest, with many scenes offering cringe-worthy realism, especially in terms of its very young “actors.”

Meirelles and Lund are both Brazilian (albeit admittedly from privileged backgrounds far removed from their film’s grit), a factor that perhaps imbues the film with a certain sensitivity – from the choice of music, street-savvy dialogue (all in Portuguese as opposed to some hybrid awkwardness), palette of colors, to more nuanced elements of treatment. The historical and social sweep of City of God, the place, is also touched upon – elements that contextually educate filmgoers to what they are witnessing. Despite its neorealism meets MTV stylization and mass-market angling, there is something genuine about its rendering – and its non-happy ending caps it nicely too.

Left : City of God Movie Poster : Miramax Films

In the aftermath of the film’s showing in Brazil, president Lula (as he’s known locally) purportedly told Meirelles that the film influenced his tactics on public security (What the ramifications of this statement produced is yet to be verified). Still, it’s encouraging to know that a film could have the potential of affecting public policy, by rousing individuals – be they your mother or the president. Lund and Meirelles have also founded Nos do Cinema (We of Cinema), a media training facility for slum-resident youth to acquire filmmaking skills. Its aim is tangible in presenting possibilities and job opportunities – by funding and operating (thru interaction and direct involvement) workshops that allow favela residents to gain the skills and means to turn the table around and tell their own stories to the world. Its long-term intention is to empower and offer avenues for different ways out. 

Their efforts exemplify a model for newfound engagement on the part of filmmakers with their “less fortunate” subjects. Pixote, Hector Babenco’s 1981 film heralded with many international honors at the time, saw its endearing “real” off-the-streets protagonist discarded by the cinematic establishment the moment he outgrew his sellable babyface, and a few years later, with no education and skills, living as destitute a life as he’d started out with. The then cinematic darling was dead before his 20th birthday. 

Since City of God, a slew of slum-oriented programs and films aimed at international audiences have propped up – depicting all the graphic horrors of poverty –  revved up for maximum effect. (“Slum tours” are also on the rise, where for a few hours groups of tourists are ostensibly given a consciousness-raising opportunity). For some, it’s a way to blatantly sensationalize and capitalize on a country’s worst aspects – to an audience that is by turns unable and/or unwilling to do anything about it. To others, it’s a larger mirror – the world, after all, is an increasingly violent and disparate place with 24-hour-news bytes to prove it.  So what if that mirror comes with the full trappings of entertainment - right?

Well…maybe. The “exhilarating” voyage into a slum presently portrayed by mass media doesn’t have to be inherently exploitative provided the audience is allowed the means to evaluate the larger context of what is shown. That implies a large amount of responsibility on the part of the media and audience. At least the exposure has the potential of opening a miasma of discussions in which people from diverse backgrounds – and orientations – gain interest on a subject previously ignored. And ultimately, by revealing and admitting to one’s own ignorance, the road to enlightenment may also open. Though it is unlikely to come as a result of viewing it from a self-satisfied,  voyeuristic distance.

Comments

This question of exposure versus exploitation is a difficult query without any obvious answers--your article is a poignant beginning to the debate. It's been said that the definition of Fascism is the aesthetic contemplation of one's own destruction. Walter Benjamin writes that Fascism operates by rendering politics aesthetic: "Communism responds by politicizing art." Perhaps an idea worth some reflection. Someone ought to attempt a study on the real impacts of these sorts of films (a very challenging study, indeed). This knowledge will hold film-makers accountable--I'm afraid not so much can be expected of mass audiences.

Excellent article. Keep up the good work.

Good work Mariana, this is a wonderful piece. It certainly is a fine line to walk between sensationalizing the other [even if the "other" is your own culture] and trying to raise awareness. I am glad that these filmmakers are using their success to give back to the community, though the film still raises questions--questions I believe are important to explore and I'm thankful that there are films that trigger people's thoughts. It's interesting to see how the filmmakers approach subjects in semi-autobiographic works and pseudo documentaries--is it exploitative? Or is it merely story telling? The most recent controversy over using non-actors/locals to represent a slum-like situation was Slumdog Millionaire--obviously this is an important and vast topic! You did a great job of exploring it.