A Shadow Cast: ‘City of God: The Fight Rages On’


Fernando Meirelles’ “City of God” (2002) was a cinematic lightning bolt. It grabbed us by the collar and dragged us through Rio’s chaotic favelas with raw power and brutal honesty.

Now HBO gives us “City of God: The Fight Rages On.” A faded Xerox of a masterpiece.

Where the film was a visual symphony, this series is a tepid cover band. The gritty authenticity has been replaced by soap opera gloss.

The series takes Meirelles’ ingredients and produces a bland smoothie. Innovative cinematography? Gone. In its place, paint-by-numbers camerawork.

Most egregious is the dilution of social commentary. The film confronted harsh truths: cyclical poverty, child soldiers, police corruption, racial inequality, limited social mobility, and the normalization of violence. It forced us to witness the brutal realities of favela life.

The series, however, uses these weighty themes as mere backdrop for melodrama.

Characters once vibrant now feel like cardboard cutouts. The film’s urgent rhythm has been replaced by plodding serialized pacing.

Fans tuning in will experience déjà vu – not because it captures the original’s essence, but because it mimics every crime drama of the last decade.

“The Fight Rages On” serves as a stark reminder of the original’s brilliance. It’s a cautionary tale about trying to bottle lightning twice.

The series casts a long, dreary shadow over the film’s legacy. The fight may rage on, but the spirit has long since left the battlefield.

If nothing else, perhaps this pale imitation could serve as a reminder that the original masterpiece exists.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ That is work watching.


Dusting Off

Fell again,
a familiar ache in these bones,
the ground, cold and rough,
whispers of loss in the dust.

But I remember,
the taste of earth isn’t new,
nor the sting of failure,
it’s just another language
the world speaks.

So I rise,
brush off the weight of it all,
grit clings skin like old regrets,
but it falls away,
one grain at a time.

I stand,
not taller,
not stronger,
but here,
again,
ready to walk,
to stumble,
to rise once more.

Each fall,
a step forward,
each scar,
a map of where I’ve been,
a reminder that I am still moving,
still here.

And the dust,
it always settles,
but I do not.