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But it is not the responsibility of the artist to provide answers. Rather, an artist should offer us a vision that is honest enough to let us draw our own conclusions. Many Christians seem to think that the truth needs to be inserted into a good story—Jesus as product placement. But if an artist has crafted his work with excellence, the truth will be evident for those with eyes to see —good storytelling necessarily reflects the truth. These stories, as ugly as they are, are honest, and they need to be told and heard.

Meirelles is not glorifying these gun-toting kids. He is instead trying to wake the world up to these forgotten and needy children. Further, he used the film as an opportunity to offer these kids some training in filmmaking, encouraging talents which could help them escape their insufferable conditions. (The film, however, is certainly not for younger viewers or those with weak stomachs.)

Mike Hertenstein (Cornerstone) writes, "I found it much less excessive, at least in terms of onscreen gore, than I expected. Indeed, one senses a certain discretion on the part of the director, given the subject matter. An incredible accomplishment … a picture of this crazy world which is the whole world for those struggling to survive within it."

J. Robert Parks (The Phantom Tollbooth) calls it "a bravura piece of filmmaking that takes the gangster movie and brings it powerfully into the 21st century. I can't think of a gangster movie since The Godfather II that's as powerful and entertaining as this one."

Mainstream critics who saw the film at festivals started raving about the film before its widespread theatrical run began. Lisa Schwarzbaum (Entertainment Weekly) says, "City of God pulses with atmosphere and vibrates with authenticity." Roger Ebert (Chicago Sun-Times) agrees: "City of God does not exploit or condescend, does not pump up its stories for contrived effect, does not contain silly and reassuring romantic sidebars, but simply looks, with a passionately knowing eye, at what it knows."

Samantha Morton made quite an impression in 2002 as Agatha, the wide-eyed precog in Minority Report. Her face, with a look of rapture and intensity that recalled Maria Falconetti's Joan in The Passion of Joan of Arc, stared up out of a pool of water into psychic visions of horror and violence. Our hearts went out to her.

In Morvern Callar (Cowboy Pictures), Morton again lies with her head half-submerged, staring up into her anxieties. This time, though, she's cowering in her bathtub, traumatized by her boyfriend's suicide. She feels directionless, void. Having only shallow friendships to speak of, and now abandoned by the man who didn't think her worth living for, she is ruined and speechless, as though someone had pulled the plug out from her spirit and ambition. What she then proceeds to do is hardly admirable. And yet, her reckless adventures in denial follow a twisted sort of logic, and contain more than a hint of vengeful anger.

Morton's performance recalls Emily Watson's work in Breaking the Waves—it's a case of an actress so submerged in a captivating character that you can't take your eyes off of her. The technical achievement is arresting, but the story she inhabits grows less and less compelling the farther it meanders from its shocking start. The film fails to explore sufficiently just how her little rebellions affect her. Are they helping her grieve and move past her humiliation and loss? Or are they slowly ruining what sanity she has left?

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February (Web-only) 2003, Vol. 47