Immersive realism has been a part of
world cinema almost from the invention of the movie camera, but few novice
filmmakers have proven as adept at it as Ramin Bahrani. In Chop Shop, Bahrani's second NYC-set feature
film, the Iranian-American director follows Alejandro Polanco, a 12-year-old
orphan who lives with his 16-year-old sister Isamar Gonzales in the "Iron
Triangle" neighborhood, in the shadow of Shea Stadium. Bahrani watches Polanco
as he sells candy on the subway, stolen car parts in the street, and bootleg
porn DVDs in the alley, all in an effort to raise enough cash to buy a
vendor-van so he can sell empanadas with Gonzales. Because Bahrani's actors are
mostly amateurs, he doesn't load them down with a lot of dialogue or extended
improvisation. Instead, he builds sequences out of economical gestures and
actions, telling the story so clearly and fleetly that he puts more ponderous
neo-realists to shame.
All that's holding Chop Shop back from being a great movie—as opposed to a merely
good one—is that there really isn't much to it. The plot proceeds about
as expected, with Polanco fretting over his sister and suffering setbacks. The
particulars are well-etched: Bahrani draws a clean contrast between Polanco's
near-24-hour work schedule and the way his best friend gets to goof off, and
lingers on Polanco's wary gazes at Gonzales after he discovers that she's been
prostituting herself. But none of these details are unique to the poverty-peeping
genre.
What is unique about Chop Shop is the setting. All these low-level
criminal enterprises and idle dreams aren't happening in Mexico City or
Kandahar; they're just outside Queens. Bahrani stages scenes with a full Shea
Stadium as a backdrop, and on the walkway where tennis fans head into the U.S.
Open. Polanco lives on the margins, but in the margins of a prosperous society,
accessible by subway. The essence of need may be the same the world over, but
in the United States, the nature of need is quite different.