City of God (Cidade de Deus) -- hope amidst violence in the slums

Directors: Fernando Meirelles & Kátia Lund, 2002.

There are places where angels fear to tread, and the police avoid. City of God is just such a place. It is a slum. A suburb of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 25 miles from paradise, the poorest of the poor live there in squalor and a war-like environment.

City of God is a brutally violent film that depicts the drugs, the guns, and the ferocity of the gangs. Not for the faint of heart, this is based on a true story and is filled with amateur actors recruited from the slums. Indeed, the actor who plays Rocket (Alexandre Rodrigues), the main narrator, actually lived in Cicade de Deus itself. And those in the cast not from this slum lived there for three months to prepare for the film. Yet, it could not be shot there since it was too dangerous. Rather, it had to be filmed in a less violent neighborhood of Rio.

The film opens with a festive atmosphere, bright colors and loud samba music. The camera focuses on a chicken, its foot tied to prevent its escape. As other chickens are killed and prepared for cooking, this one senses danger and imminent death. When it frees itself and runs off into the narrow streets, it is pursued by a gang of kids and young adults led by Li'l Zé (Leandro Firmino). When Rocket and his friend approach the chicken down an alley, the gang, armed to the teeth stand at one end while the police show up at the other. Rocket faces his personal dilemma: "If you run you're dead . . . if you stay, you're dead." What to do? The fun has turned to fear and the film is underway.

The film moves two decades back to the 60s, where Rocket is a young boy, the son of a fishmonger. As Rocket narrates the story, he continually stops to tell the backstory of characters whose lives intersect with the current events.

It starts with the Tender Trio, three teen hoods who commit petty crime, robbing propane gas trucks. But when a younger brother, Li'l Dice (Douglas Silva) who later changes his name to Li'l Zé, comes up with the idea of robbing a motel/brothel, their life of crime becomes more serious. Li'l Dice is given a gun to act as lookout. But guns and kids don't mix. Kids don't have a sense of mortality and the magnitude of taking a life is missing. When Li'l Dice kills the people in the motel petty crime has become major felony.

From simple stealing to murder, Li'l Dice enjoys the power of violence. Graduating from robbery to the easier money in drugs, he moves into dealing and control. Only his childhood friend Benny (Phellipe Haagensen) can calm his murderous impulses. Cutting to the 70s Li'l Zé runs a gang and takes over the areas of the slum by mercilessly wiping out rival gangs and gangleaders.

Meirelles employs a variety of filmic techniques including time-jumping and freeze-framing in this contemporary rendition of a gang-warfare story. Where Scorsese gave us the violent Gangs of New York, with professional Oscar-winning actors like Daniel Day Lewis, Meirelles' amateurs are more violent, more chilling and more lifelike. The adult gang members of those New York gangs would have not survived in the City of God. The life expectancy of the Brazilian gangs seems to be much less, perhaps 20 years.

Toward the end, a scene stands out for its jarring juxtaposition of apparent faith and its anti-faith walk. As one of the gangs is preparing its firepower ready to go kill another gang, the kids stop and together recite the Lord's Prayer. This was not scripted, but one of the actors, formerly an actual gang member, said they always prayed before going to battle. But as we think of this prayer that Jesus taught his disciples (Matt. 6:9-13), we are reminded that in the very same sermon on the mount just moments before, Jesus also said these words: "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" (Matt. 5:43). Faith in Jesus should lead to prayer and love. Praying and then killing is anathema to a true life of faith.

At its heart, City of God portrays the sense of hopelessness of these kids in the poverty-stricken slums. Their future was to join the police or join the gangs. The police were corrupt, but were afraid to come into the City of God. The gangs, on the other hand, offered the prospect of easy money, a sense of belonging, and a life of power. With the overwhelming prevalence of drugs, with pot and coke given to kids at a young age, it is easy to see how addiction would lead naturally to membership or soldierhood. And lack of hope manifests in lack of mercy.

Another South American film deals with poverty and hopelessness. The Pope's Toilet, a Uruguayan movie, shows a village on the Brazilian border with corrupt police and a poor populace. Yet, there the only crime was that of petty smuggling across the border. No one resorted to drug dealing and violence. Poverty does not have to lead to gangs and murder.

Indeed, set against the hopelessness of most of the characters in City of God Rocket's story is that of redemption. Rejecting the life of crime, he has an artist's eye and a passion for photography. He sees this as his ticket to freedom. Given a camera, he finds himself able to show the world the battle that is going on between the two final rival gangs in his city.

Even with its brutality, City of God reminds us that everyone needs hope. Without hope we die. Without hope of a future, we gravitate to anything that can satisfy immediately. For these street kids, it was guns and drugs. For Americans, it might be alcohol and drugs, or sex and porn. But there is a hope. There is an offer of redemption. It is not in photography, like Rocket's redemption. It is in Jesus. He offers us the hope of life, real life, even in the midst of tough circumstances, if we turn to him in faith. Just as Rocket put his faith in his camera, we can put our faith in Christ.

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs

The Horseman on the Roof (Le Hussard sur le Toit) -- Fear, honor and love

Director: Jean-Paul Rappeneau, 1995.

A huge-budget French production, this lavish movie beautifully shows a subtle romance against a stunning backdrop of lush French countryside. Winning awards for cinematography it is the kind of movie that makes us want to vacation in France. It also pictures love between two people without the need for physical intimacy.

The Horseman on the Roof is set in Provence, in southern France, in the 1830s. Two contextual themes provide a framework for the plot: political persecution and cholera epidemic. Through the first of these the two heroes, Angelo Pardi (Olivier Martinez) and Pauline de Théus (Juliette Binoche, Blue), meet and realize that their only chance for survival from the cholera is each other.

In the historical context, Austria was controlling Italy and many Italians had fled to France to avoid imprisonment or death. Angelo was one of these Italians. Swarthy and handsone, he was a cavalryman, a hussar or horseman. His mother had bought him an officership as a colonel, and he fit the mold of a noble gentleman. In France, he and other exiles were raising support for their revolution back home.

When Austrian secret police track him down in Aix, a small French town, Angelo has to flee on horseback at a moment's notice. Galloping through fields of knee-high, yellow wheat, he evades death. But in fleeing he runs headlong into death in the village he enters. Cholera has ravaged the inhabitants. Thirsty, Angelo stops at the fountain in the next village to refresh himself, a mistake he realizes immediately. The villagers descend on him like the carrion-eating crows that are ubiquitous. Fearful of the dreaded cholera, these people think Angelo is a fountain-poisoner come to infect their water-source.

This early scene highlights the nature of fear in humanity. When we do not understand something, such as the cause of a disease, we often project our fears onto a scapegoat. This allows us to deal with our pent-up frustration and anxiety, even if it actually accomplishes nothing. The scapegoat becomes the blame-carrier for us. Just as in the Old Testament the actual scapegoat became a symbolic carrier of sin away from the Israelite's camp, so a person like Angelo can become a symbol. Fear is a primal emotion. John tells us in his epistle, "Perfect love drives out fear" (1 Jn. 4:18). Only in accepting and demonstrating this love can we overcome our fears. When we give into them, as the mob did here, chaos and anarchy take over.
Angelo does escape and survives by taking to the roof, becoming the titular horseman on the roof. When he drops into an attic, it is the temporary residence of Pauline. Living alone, her aunts having fled the disease earlier, he acts honorably to her. With no one to protect her, Angelo could have had his way with the gorgeous woman but he had been taught how to treat a lady. The chivalry and respect he shows her is surprising and refreshing. Pleasing, indeed, to see honor in a hero.

When the town is evacuated by the French army, they are separated only to be reunited later. Together, they successfully escape the blockade of the area on horseback. Although they have separate intentions, he to return to Italy and she to find her missing husband, Angelo feels the urge to protect her. But when she discovers her husband is likely dead, she loses hope and leaves Angelo. Being taken into quarantine by the army, she is ready to give up on life. But Angelo is not ready to give up on her. At the risk of his own life, he voluntarily gives himself up to be with her in the quarantine prison alongside the other hundreds of possibly infected people.

Angelo is a type of Christ here. He reached out and touched cholera victims, trying to save them. Jesus ministered to the despised, the marginalized, too. He touched the untouchable, the lepers who were cast out of society to live lives alone. Jesus healed those lepers who came to him with faith (Lk. 5:13).

Moreover, Angelo was willing to sacrifice himself to save Pauline's life. With cholera all around, he went back for her. What selfless love Angelo had for Pauline. Jesus did this for us. When were dead in sin and enemies of God, Jesus left the place he had alongside the Father and came to earth to sacrifice himself for us (Col. 2:13). He lived a perfect life and died a perfect death. This death was substitutionary as he paid the price of our sins in himself. What great love Jesus had for us!

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs

Monsters vs. Aliens -- family, friends and normalcy of Ginormica

Directors: Rob Letterman & Conrad Vernon, 2009.

The latest animated feature from Dreamworks is so-so. Oh, without doubt it has great animation. In one scene a character has just been running and you can see her chest rise and fall rapidly with her breathing. It's details like this that set this and other recent animated features apart from cartoons.

Yet, this movie never really drew me in. The monsters and characters were too distant. Susan, the heroine, is too whiny throughout. And the plot seemed too familiar and derivative. Even the voice-talent was inferior to Dreamworks last feature, Kung Fu Panda. But my ten-year-old and most of the other kids in the theater seemed to have fun and enjoy this family-friendly film.

As Monsters opens, a planet explodes and one of the pieces hurtles towards earth. Meanwhile, Susan (Reese Witherspoon), a California girl, is about to get married. It's her wedding day! Susan is marrying Derek, a local ambitious weatherman. When Derek breaks the news that their honeymoon has been changed from Paris, France, to Fresno, CA, where Derek is auditioning for the next-step-up-the-ladder job, Susan's position in Derek's pecking order is clear. Left to ponder this bomb-shell, the meteorite descends like a bomb, right on top of her. Miraculously she survives, but the strange rock has changed her. She becomes a giant, growing like Jack's beanstalk even as she attempts to say her vows.

When the army is called in, she is captured and tied like Gulliver in Lilliput. Taken to a secure and secret government compound led by General W.R. Monger (Kiefer Sutherland), she is renamed Ginormica and meets up with four other monsters. She is no longer Susan, she is one of the monsters that people don't want to know about. Monsters are too scary. At first, Susan is horrified by them, but she comes to accept them, even love them, as her new family.

The four other monsters are derived from the horror films of the fifties and early sixties. Susan is a reference to Attack of the 50 Foot Woman. Dr Cockroach (Hugh Laurie) is a mad scientist turned into a cockroach in one of his experiments, a scenario taken from The Fly. The evolutionary Missing Link (Will Arnett) is like the Creature from the Black Lagoon. Insectosaurus is modelled off Mosura (aka Mothra in the US). And B.O.B is a take on The Blob. Of all these creatures, B.O.B was my favorite. He seemed likable, despite his lack of brain. Created from a genetically engineered tomato, he is more like Bob the Tomato of Veggie Tales than the killer tomatoes from Attack of the Killer Tomatoes!

Two scenes stand out, both related to a robot probe sent to earth by Gallaxhar (Rainn Wilson from "The Office"), an alien determined to find and recover the element that caused Susan's growth. At first the government does not know what to do. The US President (Stephen Colbert) ascends a ladder to a podium standing next to the robot. Arriving there, he begins to play the notes from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. But then he breaks into a funky tune. Totally fun.

The second scene comes when the President realizes the military cannot handle this robot. At Gen. Monger's suggestion, he sends in the monsters to take care of things. Their journey through a deserted San Francisco (shades of 28 Day's Later) and the subsequent confrontation on the Golden Gate Bridge was terrific.

When Gallaxhar decides to takes matters into his own hands, he sends a message to the earthlings: "Humans of Earth, my quest has led me to your planet. Give it to me now! You should, in no way, take any of this personally. It's just business." And that seems to symbolize this movie -- it's just business. There's no real heart. Unlike the fabulous WALL-E or the recent Coraline, this one has no personal connection.

Monsters does leave us with some ethical considerations. First, how does family and career coexist? Susan thought Derek was her soul-mate, her life-partner. But only on her wedding day does she begin to see his ambition burning selfishly within him. He was focused on his career above all. For him, family was secondary. Yet, family should take precedence over job or career. Family will always be with us. A job won't. When we lay on our death-bed, will we be regret-free? Or will we regret the time we missed with our children and our spouse? We probably won't wish we had spent more time at the office. A Christian husband is told to love his wife in the same self-sacrificing, career-sacrificing way that Jesus loved the church (Eph. 5:25). Indeed, both Christian husband and wife are to "submit to one another out of reverence for Christ" (Eph. 5:21). Derek is not a picture of this kind of person.

Moreover, Monsters makes us ask who are our real friends? Derek was Susan's friend, and almost husband. But was he really a friend to her? How do we know who our friends are? Proverbs tells us that "a friend loves at all times" (Prov. 17:17). A friend will care enough to tell us the hard truth, to be there when we need someone, to realize that his or her desires may have to take second fiddle at times.

Finally, it focuses on normalcy. When Susan grew 30 feet, she became a monster in the eyes of most. She was no longer "normal." She did not fit in. All she wanted was to shrink back to "normal" so she could go home to her friends. But she came to realize that normal is relative. When she was with the other monsters, she was normal. Normal means conforming to what is common. But, conforming is always outward-focused, looking to others for approval or acceptance. Susan finally accepted her new normal. She was no longer waiting on the acceptance of the masses. She had her own self-acceptance.

People looked at Susan as Ginormica, a giant and a monster, but they did not see the real Susan. But God is not like that. "The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart (1 Sam. 16:7). Our value is not in our height but in our depth. It is who we are under the skin that counts. Our value comes from being a human made in the image of God (Gen. 1:26-27). Though fallen, we are redeemed into the new, true humanity that Jesus provides (Gal. 3:13; 1 Cor. 15:49).

We can choose to be like the early Susan or the Ginormica Susan. Where do we gain our acceptance? Are we willing to accept ourselves, as God accepts us, warts and all in the normalcy of our redeemed humanity? Or are we looking for the acceptance and approval of men (1 Thess 2:4)? We are normal if we look at ourselves from God's perspective, conforming to his view of true humanity.

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs

The Death of Mr. Lazarescu (Moartea domnului Lazarescu) -- impersonal systems and judgmentalism

Director: Cristi Puiu, 2005.

Most of us have had some experience with hospitals. When it is dark and late, and we need to go to the emergency room, we know that we are in for a long night. But at least in the United States we can expect some closure. Writer-director Puiu gives us a glimpse into the Romanian health care system in this highly acclaimed dark comedy.
Mr. Lazarescu (Ion Fiscuteanu) is an old man who lives alone in his small Bucarest apartment with several cats. Plagued with recent headaches and stomach complaints, he calls an ambulance to take him to hospital. Drinking and popping pain-pills while waiting, he calls again when there has been slow response.

As the waiting drags on, Lazarescu crosses the corridor to his neighbor's apartment seeking more powerful drugs. His neighbors berate him for his drinking but come into his home to help. While there, they do what neighbors do: they talk and complain. While the husband, Sandu (Doru Ana) discusses borrowed powertools and future fishing trips, his enabler wife, Mariana (Monica Barladeanu), simply wants to bring Lazarescu some moussaka!

This is one of the strengths of the movie. It portrays real life. These could be your next-door neighbors; they are not the pretty actors we see in American movies, but bald and fat people. By avoiding any musical soundtrack, Puiu does not play our emotions like a violin, as in most Hollywood films. We are left to feel what we would feel naturally.

When the ambulance finally arrives, paramedic Marioara (Mirela Cioaba) arrives on the scene. At first she is ready to prescribe some medicine and leave, but Lazarescu's condition takes a turn. She diagnoses colon cancer. But she is just a paramedic not a doctor. When she asks Sandu or his wife to accompany Lazarescu to the hospital, these good Samaritans suddenly withdraw, not willing to go the extra mile. Lazarescu is on his own. He has no immediate family he can call on to go with him.

At the first hospital, he is treated poorly by the doctors who want to move him on and out. They disagree that he has colon cancer. They want a CT scan done, but not at their hospital. To complicate matters, a car accident has left multiple people dead and has packed the ER rooms of all local hospitals. There is no room left.

As the ambulance takes Lazarescu to hospital after hospital, Marioara is his sole advocate. Time and time again the predominantly young doctors dismiss her concerns regarding Lazarescu's colon. Instead they treat her with scorn. She is merely a paramedic, not a doctor. Their arrogance drips from their tongues. It makes us reflect on our own approach to people who are "less educated" than ourselves. We may have one or more degrees but that does not mean we have a monopoly on wisdom or truth. When we stop listening to others who may know more than us, who can teach us something, we are dangerously close to educational suicide. There is no place for arrogance in the Christian life. Our finitude means we can never know everything. There will always be something that someone can teach us.

At the heart of this film is an indictment of the impersonality of the Romanian socialist health system. It is seen to be overly bureaucratic, not caring about the people. To the doctors, Lazarescu is simply another faceless patient on their list. In contrast to them, Marioara's is compaasion and concern for Lazarescu is the lone bright light in a dark night. The one person ancillary to the system is the one person who wants to make a difference.

The Death of Mr Lazarescu is a little overlong and the last twenty minutes seem to drag. But the ending is non-judgmental and leaves the viewer hanging. There is no clear closure. But perhaps that is the point. There are no easy answers when it comes to the issues of health care. The system is not perfect, not even close. But it is the one the Romanians have. And it is on display here.

A major sub-theme running through the movie is that of judgment. Virtually all the doctors in the various hospitals pour judgment on poor Mr Lazarescu for drinking. With a prior surgery for stomach ulcer, he should have known better than to do this. Instead of sympathy he gets scorn. Really, Lazarescu wanted only two things: a) to be treated with respect and b) to be healed or helped. The doctors had a duty to perform but it seemed that duty did not include dignity.

How often do we cast judgment on others? Jesus warned us, "Do not judge or you too will be judged" (Matt. 7:1). We may have our own problems that need to be addressed before we look at the specks in other people's eyes (Matt. 7:3-5). Will we be like Marioara and show care and compassion, treating the elderly and dying with dignity? Or will we be Pharisaic, like the Romanian doctors?

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs