Twenty years is a lifetime in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro. When the original City of God (Cidade de Deus) hit theaters in 2002, it didn't just tell a story; it shoved a camera into the visceral, bleeding heart of Brazil’s social divide. Now, we have City of God: The Fight Rages On (Cidade de Deus: A Luta Não Para), the HBO series that serves as a direct sequel. Honestly, I was skeptical. Reviving a masterpiece usually smells like a corporate cash grab, but this isn't that. It’s a gritty, sprawling continuation that manages to feel both nostalgic and painfully current.
It’s back.
Rocket—or Wilson, as he’s known now—is still our eyes and ears. Alexandre Rodrigues returns to the role with a weary, seasoned energy that perfectly mirrors the shift in the narrative. In the early 2000s, the film was about the chaotic rise of drug lords like Li'l Zé. The show? It’s about what happens when that chaos matures into something more systemic, more political, and arguably more dangerous. It’s not just kids with guns anymore; it’s a complex web of "militias," corrupt police, and generational trauma.
What the City of God Show Gets Right About Rio Today
The show picks up in 2004, roughly two decades after the film's climax. We see Wilson working as a professional photojournalist. He’s no longer just the kid trying to escape; he’s the man who escaped but realized he can never truly leave. This is a crucial distinction. The series understands that the "City of God" isn't just a place you move out of—it's a lived reality that follows you.
One of the smartest moves the creators made was bringing back Katiuscia Canoro and other original cast members, while introducing a new generation that feels authentic. We aren't just watching a repeat of the "Benny and Li'l Zé" dynamic. Instead, we see the rise of Bradock. Returning to the favela after a stint in prison, Bradock finds that his old territory isn't exactly waiting for him with open arms. The power vacuum left by the legends of the 80s has been filled by Curió, a different kind of leader who prioritizes "order" over total anarchy.
This conflict creates a fascinating tension. Is a "peaceful" drug lord better than a violent one? The show doesn't give you easy answers. It’s messy.
The Shift from Drugs to Militias
If you follow Brazilian news, you know the landscape of crime has shifted. The City of God show dives headfirst into the reality of milícias—paramilitary groups often made up of off-duty or former police officers. These groups exploit the community under the guise of "protection." It adds a layer of political commentary that the original film only touched upon.
While the 2002 film felt like a frantic, cocaine-fueled fever dream, the series feels more like a slow-burn thriller. The cinematography by Maurício Lahoz captures that same sun-drenched, dusty aesthetic, but the pacing is more deliberate. You get to spend more time with the women of the community, like Berenice, who are often the true backbone of the favela's resistance. Their struggle isn't just about surviving bullets; it's about navigating a system designed to keep them invisible.
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Why Wilson’s Lens Still Matters
Wilson’s camera remains the most powerful weapon in the story. In the film, a single photo changed his life. In the series, his photography serves as a bridge between the "asphalt" (the wealthy city) and the "hill" (the favela). He struggles with the ethics of his job. Is he documenting the pain of his people, or is he exploiting it for a front-page headline?
It’s a meta-commentary on the franchise itself.
The production team, including director Aly Muritiba, worked closely with residents of various Rio communities to ensure the portrayal stayed grounded. They didn't want "poverty porn." They wanted a story about resilience. You can feel that intentionality in the scenes where the community gathers—there’s music, there’s life, there’s joy. It’s not all tragedy, which is a trap many foreign-produced shows about Brazil fall into.
A Different Kind of Violence
Don't get me wrong, the show is violent. It has to be. But the violence in City of God: The Fight Rages On feels heavier. When a character dies now, it’s not just a stylishly shot moment of "cool" action. It’s a tragedy that ripples through families we’ve actually come to know over multiple episodes.
- The Narrative Structure: Instead of a linear path, the show uses Wilson’s flashbacks to bridge the gap between 1982 and 2004.
- The Soundtrack: It’s a vibrant mix of classic samba and the burgeoning funk carioca scene of the early 2000s.
- The Casting: Using local talent alongside returning stars gives the show an undeniable "street" credibility.
The Real-World Context of the Favela
To truly understand the City of God show, you have to look at the real Cidade de Deus. Established in the 1960s as a social housing project, it was intended to remove people from the slums in the center of Rio. But the government basically abandoned it. No infrastructure. No schools. No jobs.
By the time the series takes place, the community has grown into a city within a city. The show accurately reflects how the lack of state presence allows criminal factions to become the de facto government. When the "militias" move in, they start charging residents for basic services like gas, internet, and "security." It’s a protection racket on a massive scale.
The series highlights how the media often simplifies these conflicts. To the news crews on the "asphalt," it’s just "criminals fighting criminals." To Wilson, it’s his neighbors, his childhood friends, and his own history being erased or distorted.
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Breaking Down the Bradock vs. Curió Dynamic
The central conflict between Bradock and Curió is a microcosm of the evolution of organized crime.
Bradock represents the old school: impulsive, ego-driven, and loud.
Curió is the new breed: business-oriented, calculating, and aware that dead bodies are bad for profit.
Watching these two philosophies clash is where the show finds its narrative engine. It’s not just about who has more guns; it’s about who has the community's "allegiance," whether that’s earned through fear or a twisted form of paternalism.
Addressing the "Sequel Fatigue"
I know what you're thinking. Do we really need a sequel to one of the greatest movies of all time? Usually, the answer is no. But Brazil has changed so much since 2002 that returning to this specific location feels justified. The original film was a snapshot of a moment. The series is a longitudinal study of a crisis. It tackles the complexities of the "Pacifying Police Units" (UPP) and the looming shadow of the 2014 World Cup and 2016 Olympics—events that fundamentally reshaped Rio’s urban landscape, often at the expense of its poorest citizens.
The show also does a much better job of exploring the role of the Black movement in Brazil. We see characters engaging in activism, trying to change the narrative from within. This adds a layer of hope that was largely absent from the nihilism of the original film.
How to Watch and What to Look For
If you’re diving into the City of God show, I highly recommend re-watching the original film first. Not because you’ll be lost—the show does a decent job of catching you up—but because the emotional payoffs are much stronger if the faces of those kids from the 60s and 70s are fresh in your mind.
Keep an eye on the background. The production design is incredible. You see the transition from the brick-and-mortar DIY builds of the 80s to the more dense, vertical sprawl of the 2000s favela. It’s a masterclass in visual storytelling.
Also, pay attention to the dialogue. The slang (gíria) is incredibly specific to Rio. While the subtitles do their best, the cadence and rhythm of the speech are essential to the show's soul. It’s fast, it’s aggressive, and it’s deeply rhythmic.
The Verdict on the Revival
Is it as good as the movie? That’s the wrong question.
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The movie was a 130-minute sprint. The show is a marathon. It lacks some of Fernando Meirelles’ signature frenetic editing—which defined an era of global cinema—but it replaces it with depth and character development that a feature film simply can't afford.
It’s a heavy watch. It’s frustrating. It’ll make you angry at the systemic failures that keep people trapped in cycles of violence. But it’s also undeniably human. It’s a testament to the fact that even in a place nicknamed "City of God" because God supposedly forgot it, people are still fighting to be seen.
Moving Forward with the Story
If you’ve finished the first season, the next step is to look into the documentary City of God - 10 Years Later. It explores what happened to the real actors from the 2002 film, many of whom faced the same systemic barriers their characters did. It provides a sobering reality check that enhances the experience of the new series.
Beyond that, engage with the work of modern Brazilian directors like Gabriel Martins (Mars One) to see how the "favela cinema" genre has evolved into something even more nuanced and diverse. The City of God show is a bridge between the groundbreaking past and a more politically conscious future for Brazilian media.
Stop looking at the favela as a war zone and start looking at it as a community under siege. That’s the real takeaway here. The fight hasn't just "raged on"—it has evolved, and ignoring it is no longer an option.
Actionable Insights for Viewers:
- Contextualize the Timeline: Remember the series is set in the early 2000s, a pivotal time when Brazil's economy was shifting, which directly impacted the "business model" of the favelas.
- Follow the Cast: Look up the careers of the younger actors in the show; many are activists and artists from the very communities depicted, bringing a level of lived experience to their roles.
- Support Local Journalism: The character of Wilson is based on the reality of "comunitário" journalists in Rio. Following outlets like Voz das Comunidades gives you the real-time version of the stories the show dramatizes.
The series is currently available on Max (formerly HBO Max). It stands as a rare example of a legacy sequel that actually has something new to say. Don't let the subtitles scare you off—this is essential television for anyone who cares about the intersection of art, politics, and survival.