Early on in City Of Men, with a moment’s notice, the local slumlord decides to go for a swim. Except, perched upon his own Mount Olympus, the hot Brazilian sun shining down on him, such a choice is not as easy and grabbing a towel and hitting the beach. Legions of bodyguards follow in tow, munitions are filled, and the entire favela must be informed that The Great Midnight is passing through. Soon as he gets in the water, though, that all fades away, and for once, he is just a man like any other, carefree and at peace. But even he knows he can’t stay in the water forever, and all the while, resting alongside the shore, gawking and waiting, sit his men, his guns, and all his responsibilities, the vestiges of the life he has forged for himself, the one difficult enough to abate and impossible to escape. And though imperfect overall, it’s moments like these, wonderful instances of understated philosophy and humanism, which encapsulate the best that City Of Men has to offer.

A word before going any further: To those expecting a retread of its cousin film, the 2003 stunner City Of God, best to shake that thought now, lest ye prepare for disappointment. Though sharing a producing team and subject matter, the differences and intentions of the two films couldn’t be more pronounced than in their respective titles. Whereas City Of God, with its decade spanning reach and omnipotent eye, focused on the triumphs and tragedies and crimes and misdemeanors which forged a community, City Of Men is interested in the actual lives of the men (and women) inhabiting the slums. Guiding us through the favela are Ace, who at 18, married already and with a son, seems to have his future preordained, and Wallace, his 18th birthday looming large, is searching for the father he never met and his own place in the world. As the two lifelong friends enter adulthood they do so amidst questions of obligation, accountability and familial legacy,and all the while trying to avoid the burgeoning gang war spreading like wild-fire throughout the slums. Heady stuff.

The change of subject and focus also necessitates a change of style, so gone too is the breakneck pacing and cinematic wizardry which elevated City Of God to the cinematic pantheon, replaced here with laconic shooting and editing style more befitting to the subdued story. While you can’t fault a film for not being a mind-blowing experience, the change of style swaps the immediacy of the latter with a languidness that can prove somewhat impenetrable at first. And it’s that issue of accessibility which is the film’s biggest hindrance.

Though not anything more than spiritual cousin to City Of God, the film is in a fact a sequel, the direct continuation of a story first told in a 2000 short-film, and later furthered in a television series that lasted 4 seasons. And while it’s unjust to criticize the film because of that, the fact is that the first half of the film is a somewhat alienating experience, where characters come on without much introduction, references are made that go right over our heads, and scenes meant to carry a lot of gravitas fall flat on their face because we as viewers don’t know what’s at stake. Like the uncomfortable third-wheel at a meeting of old friends, those unacquainted with the series (and I can’t presume that 99.999% of those reading this are) are just not on the same page with what’s going on. That being that, in what’s absolutely a testament to the all-around strength of filmmaking and characterization (special note must go out to the masterful Douglas Silva, whose soulful portrayal of Ace is worlds away from the sociopath he played in City Of God, but no less real), by the second half of the film, when the narrative kicks into high gear, whatever prior knowledge is absolutely unnecessary. Baggage or not, the questions posed, conflicts raised and choices made are positively riveting.

When all is said and done, the faults of the film, ironically enough, cannot fully be laid at the feet of the filmmakers. And, even with a film that struggles for a good portion to connect in a meaningful way with the audience, that same audience is given ample to time to bask in the warm sun of Rio and in the warmer colours of director Paulo Morelli’s palate. As this never-ending winter rages on, and summer still seems to maddeningly far away, when the chance arises to give our eyes a two hour vacation, without having to check our brains at the door? Well, that’s an offer that can’t be beat.