Saturday, August 07, 2004

Carandiru: this being a Brazilian movie, there's always an excuse to wheel in a hot babe in tight pink hotpants, even in a film set in a male prisonCity Limits

With Carandiru (2003) director Hector Babenco returns not just to his native Brazil, but also to the prison movie genre of his most celebrated film Kiss Of The Spiderwoman. Whereas that film was essentially a two-hander (allowing William Hurt to walk away with an Oscar) this new film is more of an ensemble piece, set in a huge sprawling state prison which, with 7000 inmates, is depicted as a city in itself, largely self-policed by the underworld, teeming with seediness and hard-luck stories but never devoid of laughter. Being partly based on a true story (a tragic massacre which led to the prison being closed) it's a city which soon finds itself with its very own river of blood flowing within its walls.

Despite this harrowing climax Carandiru never feels sombre or preachy, and the 139 minutes skip by in what is only a gratuitous lesbian scene away from being the most ridiculously entertaining prison movie ever. As the cons tell their backstories to the new prison doctor, the film never shies away from their crimes but still humanises these flawed characters sufficiently that we care for their welfare come the devastating denouement. The portmanteau style and the way the various stories intertwine, culminating in a quiet anger for the near-hopelessness of its characters will necessarily bring comparisons to last year's Brazilian masterpiece City Of God. Although slightly less hip and intense than COG, I personally found Carandiru a bolder, funnier and more rounded picture. You can consider that a recommendation.

Meanwhile, on a personal note, I know what you're thinking: dedications are what you need. So happy birthday to Nadean (yes, that is spelled right, by the way), still looking fabulous at 40 (although it seems so long since I've actually seen her I'm working on memory here) and best wishes to Mal and Mel for a long and happy marriage, which started out magnificently today if text reports were correct in suggesting the groom spent most of this morning picking up chunks of his own vomit from the floor of the honeymoon suite...

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