I cannot overemphasize what a powerful and engaging documentary this Brazilian film is. Not only does it reveal the consequences of violence but the roots that allow it to explode years later onto innocent Rio citizens taking another bus ride in their lives. How such tragic circumstances surround a young man and the invisible existence he knew radiate out to touch strangers is what is investigated. This expose reveals how a society condemns the marginalized lives of children and teenagers who live in the streets, not caring that some are hungry, scared, wanting a home with a mom and dad, family, instead of being orphans, such as Sandro, a victim and the criminal.
Can a single incident forever mar a life? Can no family relations make one hopeless? Does a life in and out of inhumane jails breed resentment, allow it to foster a hate towards humanity? It's scary to think of the profound implications, a true manifestation of the "super predator" theory. What future is there when the young have no education, no job, no connection to other people, instead seeking a constant desperate escape through drugs?
The filmmakers go behind bars of a regular prison and show what Sandro went through, how the penal system literally threw away the key once he was locked-up with no rehabilitation, stifling 120 degree heat, rotten food, rancid water or even room to sleep. The guards brutally torture their prisoners who are held indefinitely, knowing they'll never get in trouble. The director also delves into the 1993 machine gun massacre of street children by Rio police, of which no cop was ever prosecuted, and instead celebrated by citizens sick of street crime. The, 'you are there' actual video footage puts all the requisite pieces together, the origins leading up to the Bus 174 hostage situation that the documentary is about.
This film is an excellent companion to 2002's 'City of God', an absolutely stunning Brazilian film that should have been more celebrated than it was by the Academy of Motion Pictures during this past Oscar season.
***SPOILER WARNING***
There is no doubt Sandro realized what was awaiting him. He knew he could not escape fate, no matter what. But in his brief countrywide televised coverage, eventually global, he stuck a middle finger to all of Brazilian life, that this tragic streetkid, borne of violence, ignored in life, would not be denied attention in death, that his ultimate personal victory was that people knew he was alive, that he breathed, that he lived, just before he died at the hands of police.
Sandro is no hero but just a symptom of a larger societal problem and no doubt all sympathy should be given to the true victim, a 20-year-old woman, who had her whole life ahead of her, instead accidentally shot and killed by the police and the gunman. Why the scene commandant chose to take direction from police directors watching live television is not explored and something no doubt the government would rather forget, due to an underbudgeted and unprofessionally trained police force, creating incompetence. The police cannot even communicate and coordinate as they have no equipment. (Interesting to note how ordinary journalists and citizens just walked up to the bus for a look)
But the stark clarity of the contrast in Rio society is revealed at the end with a pauper's grave greeting the simple coffin, pushed by a grave digger, with one person in mourning. Along the crude furrows, the newest resident is set along all the crammed rows of anonymous wooden crosses. No names are recorded, as no lives here are even noted. Just for a few brief hours, Sandro escaped his anonymity but eventually, as in all Rio's street lives, invisibility returns, and descends into permanence.
Can a single incident forever mar a life? Can no family relations make one hopeless? Does a life in and out of inhumane jails breed resentment, allow it to foster a hate towards humanity? It's scary to think of the profound implications, a true manifestation of the "super predator" theory. What future is there when the young have no education, no job, no connection to other people, instead seeking a constant desperate escape through drugs?
The filmmakers go behind bars of a regular prison and show what Sandro went through, how the penal system literally threw away the key once he was locked-up with no rehabilitation, stifling 120 degree heat, rotten food, rancid water or even room to sleep. The guards brutally torture their prisoners who are held indefinitely, knowing they'll never get in trouble. The director also delves into the 1993 machine gun massacre of street children by Rio police, of which no cop was ever prosecuted, and instead celebrated by citizens sick of street crime. The, 'you are there' actual video footage puts all the requisite pieces together, the origins leading up to the Bus 174 hostage situation that the documentary is about.
This film is an excellent companion to 2002's 'City of God', an absolutely stunning Brazilian film that should have been more celebrated than it was by the Academy of Motion Pictures during this past Oscar season.
***SPOILER WARNING***
There is no doubt Sandro realized what was awaiting him. He knew he could not escape fate, no matter what. But in his brief countrywide televised coverage, eventually global, he stuck a middle finger to all of Brazilian life, that this tragic streetkid, borne of violence, ignored in life, would not be denied attention in death, that his ultimate personal victory was that people knew he was alive, that he breathed, that he lived, just before he died at the hands of police.
Sandro is no hero but just a symptom of a larger societal problem and no doubt all sympathy should be given to the true victim, a 20-year-old woman, who had her whole life ahead of her, instead accidentally shot and killed by the police and the gunman. Why the scene commandant chose to take direction from police directors watching live television is not explored and something no doubt the government would rather forget, due to an underbudgeted and unprofessionally trained police force, creating incompetence. The police cannot even communicate and coordinate as they have no equipment. (Interesting to note how ordinary journalists and citizens just walked up to the bus for a look)
But the stark clarity of the contrast in Rio society is revealed at the end with a pauper's grave greeting the simple coffin, pushed by a grave digger, with one person in mourning. Along the crude furrows, the newest resident is set along all the crammed rows of anonymous wooden crosses. No names are recorded, as no lives here are even noted. Just for a few brief hours, Sandro escaped his anonymity but eventually, as in all Rio's street lives, invisibility returns, and descends into permanence.
