This week, Brazilian president Lula da Silva (a socialist) passed a presidential decree granting slum dwellers the rights to their squatters' homes in Rio de Janeiro's notorious "City of God" favela. Consequently, Fernando Meirelles' propulsive and shocking chronicle of child drug runners and murderers in that self-same favela finds itself the most topical film release of the new year so far.

Not that Meirelles' violent and controversial film (City of God residents are angry at what they see as a "biased" portrayal of their neighbourhood) necessarily had anything to do with the president's decision. If, indeed, he has seen the film, it's hard to believe the evidence on offer would have him do anything other than call in the army to restore order to one of the most lawless and despairing communities ever depicted on film (according to the filmmakers, that is).

Jumping back and forth in time with a narrative elan that is occasionally too stylish for its own good, the film covers a couple of decades in the lives of rival gang members born in the favela. Using the character of Buscape (Alexandre Rodrigues), an aspiring photographer, as an all-seeing and all-knowing interlocutor, Mierelles's tale begins in the late sixties, when "Li'l Dice" and the other main characters are still carefree kids, and then details what happens to them throughout the seventies and into the eighties.

While not exactly unexpected, what happens to them is conveyed with such forcefulness, immediacy and unbridled amorality that the viewer is frequently left breathless. Kids are shot and killed as casually as kids in the "developed" world eat their fast-food lunches. Poverty is so rampant that the lure of the drug gangs becomes irresistible, which in turn begins the inexorable downward spiral into almost certain death for many of then kids involved. The authorities are so corrupt that they not only turn a blind eye in exchange for a cut of the proceeds, but also actively foster the drug trade, frequently turning up as the bosses behind the drug dealing. The whole milieu comes across as the kind of hell on earth few, if any, of us comfy middle-class Canadians can even fathom.

As alluded to earlier, the most striking things about Meirelles' film-its breakneck pace, taut script and delirious visual style-while more than exciting on a purely filmic level, seem at times counterproductive. From the opening scenes of a group of gun-toting boys chasing-and firing at-an escaped chicken in the streets, the filmmaking panache on display is undeniable. That panache, however, frequently draws you away from the stories of Buscape, Li'l Dice and the others, leaving you marvelling at the filmmakers' artistry, even as another kid is having his life horribly cut short-something you may or may not take note of in the end. Perhaps I'm quibbling, but in an otherwise fine piece of filmmaking, wouldn't you think the residents of the City of God-many of whom were part of the cast of non-professionals-deserve just a little more respect?