The next time you dress up your kids for a carnival party, stop and think about the children who live through hell in the favelas located just minutes away from the route of Rio’s carnival. Ironic, isn’t it? In the country that is home to one of the great urban experiments of the 20th century, the capital city of Brasilia – the planned city that was created by that great architect and urbanist, Oscar Niemeyer – lie some of the most grievous sins of mankind, like the Cidade de Deus, the City of God, where society has pushed whole generations over the edge of what is acceptable and dignified in today’s world. City of God takes place within one unique location, the film’s real protagonist, the tenement housing complex of City of God, on the western side of Rio de Janeiro.
The story is divided in three parts. The first shows the first years – the 60s – of the area’s existence, and where two youngsters move in, Buscapé and Dadinho. Buscapé is 11 years old and his brother Marreco already belongs to a hardened gang of criminals with his friends Cabeleira and Alicate. Their specialty is robbing gas trucks which make deliveries at the complex. Dadinho hangs out with the gang and dreams of becoming like them. Buscapé however hates having a criminal for a brother; he wants something better for his future.
The second part of the movie takes place in the 70s and Buscapé continues studying and finds a job at a supermarket. However he still lives along the shaky borderline which separates a life of normality from a life of crime. Meanwhile, Dadinho becomes the leader of an ambitious band of youngsters. He wants to become a drug dealer. He believes that there is no future in being a robber; he soon takes over almost all the major dealing points in City of God and starts selling cocaine. Dadinho becomes the most feared criminal in the community. He is given a new nickname, Zé Pequeno, and expands his business. “If dealing were legal, Zé Pequeno would be elected business man of the year”, says Buscapé, who also narrates the film.
The third part, in the 80s, shows how Zé Pequeno is transformed into one of the most powerful drug barons in Rio de Janeiro, protected by an armed unit of children and teenagers, between the age of 11 and 18. Until he crosses the path of a bus company employee known as Mane Galinha. After seeing his wife get raped, Mane Galinha decides to get even with Zé Pequeno and joins forces with another local dealer, Sandro Cenoura.
War breaks out in City of God. Meanwhile, Buscapé, who had always dreamt of becoming a professional photographer, gets his first professional camera. To capture the war on film is the big chance in his life.
Meirelles studied architecture and started directing independent television programmes in the 80s, commercials in the 90s and finally, and more recently, feature films. City of God was released in 2002 and was nominated for four Oscars, including Best Director. It was soon followed by The Constant Gardener in 2004, which was also nominated for four Oscars. Fernando Meirelles was born and and still lives in the city of São Paulo, Brazil.
Can you tell us more about your education and training as an architect? Why did you start and why did you stop? What were the major influences, derived from architecture, on your work?
I always liked architecture and I still do. When I was in the fourth year of my studies at university I made some experimental videos with some friends, just for fun. Within a short time we were asked to do some professional work and we set up a production company. Before finishing school, we were already very busy. The whole thing just happened, it was never planned. I then never had time to finish my studies and become a fully-qualified architect.
How did your training as an architect influence the way you make filmography?
The understanding I attained of space and structure in general, in some way helps me to deal with scripts, with images and editing. Whatever I am doing, I never lose the perspective of the whole piece. It has something to do with the creation of an architectural project, keeping in mind the concept and the idea of the whole even when I’m working on a specific detail. But I’m just guessing here...
Your work certainly cannot be considered to be mainstream, yet it is acknowledged by mainstream structures, like the Oscars, and has popular appeal. Did you set out to achieve this from the start or does it not interest you? Which acclaim for your work do you most relish?
A film starts with an idea and ends when it is projected onto a screen, before a critical audience. I always have that in mind and I try to establish a dialogue with whoever is watching. It’s about trying to communicate what I have in mind and not merely a matter of subjective expressionism, like a poet might engage in. Film is not pure art and I believe I am learning how to deal with that.
The City of God, the Constant Gardener and now Carlos the Jackal… There is a deep sense of social commitment. How much of this is a direct result of the environment you live and work in?
Both City of God and The Constant Gardener are films dealing with subjects that matter to me, maybe because I was born and I live in Brazil, where these issues are part of everybody’s and everyday life. You don’t have to look for social problems when you live in Brazil, they are constantly staring at you in the face. The hard thing would be to pretend that you do not see them, so this commitment is, in fact, a result of the environment I live in. Regarding Carlos the Jackal I can’t say much, since I never read that script… This was something published, I don’t know where, but it’s not true. My next film will be Blindness, an adaptation of a novel by the Portuguese writer José Saramago. It’s not a social theme, but more of a psychological or a philosophical one.
The city of Rio de Janeiro seems to be a city like no other. Externally, it appears to be a city of extreme contrasts, but surely this is only a superficial description of its reality. How would you describe the city, in the most positive sense and in the most negative?
I was born and raised in São Paulo and still live here, but I love Rio. I have been to several cities in my life, but I still think Rio is a special place. A city surrounded by amazing beaches, lakes, mountains, with intact tropical forests, the most beautiful trees and vegetation, filled with a very happy population that knows how to enjoy life. Just think about carnival. Near to 300,000 people work during the whole year to prepare for those three days of intense celebration and joy. Rio’s carnival is the biggest popular event of its kind around the world, but nobody gets paid, there are no sponsors, no corporate branding. It has nothing to do with money, it is pure pleasure. If you go to Rio during carnival you won’t find a single souvenir to commemorate the event… Maybe some generic printed T-shirts, but that’s it. Imagine if this were an event in the US, it would be completely different.
A negative point is the social gap that exists between rich and poor, but this is not a problem only for Rio but for the whole country… Indeed, I should say, for the whole world. There is no bigger gap between rich and poor in the world than if we consider the world as a whole, and yet we tend to think that this is only a Brazilian, or a Latin American, problem.
The Cidade de Deus, The City of God, is real, it exists. How well did you know it before you decided to make the film? Once your project was completed, did your impression of it change?
The City of God does exist and is like several other suburbs in Rio. I believe that real change for this and for other similar areas in Brazil will only be possible through a revolution in education.
In your work, you describe a face of Rio which most would, maybe, prefer not to acknowledge the existence of; Rio is the ultimate carnival city, a place and time for pleasure and sin, colour and music, fun and frolic. But you chose to describe a whole new world, one where children are brought up in an environment that offers no stability, with little or no hope for the future. Were you challenging the establishment? How difficult was it for you to make this film? Did the internal authorities of the City of God collaborate?
The idea of shooting City of God was to show to the Brazilian public a part of the country that seems to be forgotten and, in some way, the film managed to do just that. There was no intention to challenge the establishment; society is responsible for such a gap between rich and poor. We are an established democracy, we elect our government and therefore Brazilian society is responsible for the existence of such a gap between rich and poor in our country, just as much as, for example, American society is responsible for the war in Iraq.
You are a native of São Paulo; how would you compare it to Rio de Janeiro; what are the major differences?
São Paulo is about work. This is where most of the Brazilian industries are, where 40 per cent of the country’s taxes are paid. Rio is more of a local postcard. When you go from one city to the other, and the distance separating them is only 420 kilometres, it is like going to a different country, a different culture.
