Twenty years later. It’s been more than two decades since Fernando Meirelles and Kátia Lund dropped a cinematic pipe bomb onto the global stage, and honestly, the shrapnel is still flying. Most "classic" films eventually feel like museum pieces—dusty, respected, but a little bit slow. Not this one. The City of God movie (or Cidade de Deus) doesn't just sit there on your screen; it vibrates. It screams. It bleeds.
If you haven’t seen it lately, you might remember the chickens. That opening sequence where a frantic bird escapes a cooking pot while a gang of kids chases it through the dusty streets of a Rio de Janeiro favela is legendary. It’s chaotic. It’s frantic. It’s basically a metaphor for the entire film: everyone is either hunting or being hunted, and the line between the two is razor-thin.
People often call it the "Brazilian Goodfellas." That’s a decent shorthand, I guess, but it kind of misses the point. Scorsese’s gangsters chose that life for the suits and the Cadillac keys. In the City of God, the kids aren't choosing a career; they're just trying to survive a geography that was designed to fail them.
The Brutal Reality Behind the Lens
We need to talk about why this movie feels so real. It’s because, in a lot of ways, it was. Meirelles famously said that if he knew how dangerous filming in the actual favelas would be, he probably wouldn't have done it.
They didn't just hire a bunch of professional actors from Sao Paulo and teach them how to look "tough." Instead, the production set up an acting workshop in the favelas. They recruited about 200 local kids. These weren't kids reading lines; they were kids improvising based on a world they actually understood. Leandro Firmino, who played the terrifying Ze Pequeno (Li’l Ze), lived in the actual City of God. He hadn't even thought about acting before the film. Maybe that’s why his performance feels less like "acting" and more like a force of nature. When he grins, you don't feel entertained. You feel like you should probably hide your wallet and run.
The cinematography by César Charlone is a character in itself. You notice how the colors change? It’s subtle but brilliant. The 1960s segments are bathed in these warm, golden, nostalgic tones—almost like a faded postcard. It looks like a dream. But as the 70s and 80s roll in, the sun seems to die. The palette shifts to cold blues and harsh, clinical greys. The "City of God" went from a government housing project with hope to a concrete war zone. The camera stops gliding and starts shaking. It’s jagged. It’s nervous.
Rocket vs. Ze Pequeno: Two Ways Out
The heart of the City of God movie is the contrast between Rocket (Buscapé) and Li'l Ze.
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Rocket is our eyes and ears. He’s sensitive, a bit awkward, and—most importantly—he has a camera. He’s the observer. He represents the slim margin of possibility that exists when you have a talent that allows you to "see" the world rather than just fight it. His weapon is a shutter; Ze’s weapon is a revolver.
Li'l Ze is one of the most effective villains in cinema history because he’s so desperately human in his insecurity. He wants power because he wants respect, and he wants respect because he’s fundamentally unloved. He’s a sociopath, sure, but a sociopath created by a vacuum of authority. When he clears out the competition to become the boss of the favela, he isn't building an empire for the money. He’s doing it so nobody can ever look down on him again.
Then you have Benny. Everyone loves Benny. He’s the "coolest gangster in Rio." He’s the bridge between the two worlds—the criminal who still has a soul. His attempt to leave the life is the emotional pivot of the film. It suggests that even in a place this dark, people want out. They want the girl, the clothes, and the peace. But the City of God doesn't let go that easily.
Fact-Checking the Fiction
A lot of viewers don't realize that the City of God movie is based on a semi-autobiographical novel by Paulo Lins. Lins grew up in the favela. He spent years researching the "crime wars" that tore the community apart.
Is it 100% accurate?
Well, the real "Li'l Ze" was actually named José Eduardo Barreto Mendes. And yes, he was just as feared as the movie depicts. However, the film condenses timelines and combines characters to make the narrative punchier. The real-life war between Ze Pequeno and Mane Galinha (Knockout Ned) was even more protracted and messy than the movie shows. In the film, Ned is a tragic hero—a handsome soul pushed to violence. In reality, the lines were much blurrier.
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The film was criticized by some Brazilian sociologists for "aestheticizing poverty." They called it "the cosmetics of hunger." They worried it made the violence look too "cool" or music-video-esque. But if you watch it today, that criticism feels a bit hollow. The violence isn't glorious. It's repetitive, exhausting, and ultimately hollow. By the time the "Runts" (the younger kids) take over at the end, you don't feel a sense of triumph. You feel a sense of dread. The cycle is just resetting.
Technical Mastery and the "Discover" Factor
Why does this movie keep popping up in your feed? Why does Google Discover still push articles about a Brazilian film from 2002?
It's because it’s a masterclass in editing. Daniel Rezende, the editor, was nominated for an Oscar, and he should have won. The way the film jumps back and forth in time, using "flash-sideways" to explain the history of a specific apartment or a specific gun, is pure genius. It treats the setting like an ecosystem.
Take the "Story of the Apartment" sequence. We see the same four walls change hands over decades—from a family home to a drug den to a fortress. It’s a brilliant way of showing the passage of time without a boring "10 Years Later" title card. It’s visual storytelling at its peak.
What You Probably Missed
- The Soundtrack: It’s a mix of samba, funk, and soul that perfectly anchors the film in its era. The music isn't just background noise; it's the heartbeat of the community.
- The Non-Actors: Most of the kids didn't have scripts. They were told the situation and told to react. That’s why the dialogue feels so snappy and authentic.
- The Ending: That final shot of the little kids walking down the alley, planning their next hits, is one of the most chilling endings in history. It reminds us that the "protagonists" don't really matter—the system is the one in charge.
Is It Still Relevant?
Honestly? More than ever.
The issues of urban segregation, police corruption, and the cycle of youth violence aren't unique to Rio. You see versions of the City of God in every major global city. The film remains a vital piece of art because it refuses to preach. It doesn't give you a moralistic "drugs are bad" speech. It just shows you the machinery of the street.
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If you're a film student, you study this for the framing. If you're a writer, you study it for the non-linear structure. If you're just a movie fan, you watch it for the sheer, adrenaline-soaked ride.
Actionable Insights for Your Next Watch
To truly appreciate the City of God movie, don't just watch it on your phone while scrolling TikTok. This is a "lights off, phone away" experience.
- Watch the "Making Of" Documentary: Look for City of God - 10 Years Later on streaming services. it catches up with the actors. Some became huge stars (like Alice Braga), while others struggled to escape the very reality they portrayed on screen. It adds a heavy layer of context to the film.
- Focus on the Sound Design: Pay attention to how the sound of the favela changes. In the beginning, it's birds and wind. By the end, it’s the constant, rhythmic clicking of gun hammers and sirens.
- Read the Book: If you can find a translation of Paulo Lins' novel, grab it. It’s dense and sprawling, but it provides the deep historical background that a two-hour movie simply can't fit.
- Look for the Parallels: Compare it to La Haine (France) or The Wire (USA). Seeing how different cultures handle the "inner city" narrative highlights just how unique Meirelles’ vision was.
The City of God movie isn't just a film about Brazil. It’s a film about how humans behave when they are pushed into a corner. It’s about the desire to be seen, the hunger for power, and the desperate, flickering hope that maybe—just maybe—you can be the one who gets out.
Go back and watch the chicken chase again. This time, notice how the camera stays low, at the level of the kids and the bird. You're right there in the dirt with them. And once you're in, the City of God doesn't let you look away.
Next Steps for the Cinephile:
Start by re-watching the film with the original Portuguese audio and subtitles; dubbing ruins the rhythmic slang that defines the characters. Then, look up the photography of the real-life 1970s Rio to see how closely the production team matched the gritty aesthetic of the era. Finally, check out the 2024 series City of God: The Fight Rages On, which attempts to continue the story two decades later, offering a modern perspective on the same streets.