An ensemble tale of life behind the bars of a notorious Brazilian jailhouse, Hector Babenco's Carandiru is "funny, violent, and shocking". But not all critics were wowed - some dismissing it as an overlong prison soap opera. And while it was never expected to be a box office blockbuster, it failed to generate the kind of excitement that surrounded last year's Brazilian crime epic City Of God.
All The Nuts In Brazil
The centrepiece of this extras package is a half-hour documentary on the making of the movie, which works mostly by taking scenes from the film and juxtaposing them against behind-the-scenes footage. There's also the usual mix of interviews with cast and crew, but Babenco's on-set ranting provides most of the amusement.
He treats the cast like a class of unruly children, shouting at them to quieten down before barking, "That's not in the script!" every time someone dares to improvise with his carefully written words. It makes for a pretty entertaining video diary, but there's no insight into pre-production or post-production, and Babenco doesn't give an interview.
On the other hand, perhaps that's no great calamity, since Babenco exhibits a wearing tendency for stating the obvious in his audio commentary. As well as describing the scene you're watching, he also tells you what's coming up next - and if you look outside, the sky is blue! Between similarly profound observations he makes grand statements like, "Ah, this scene is reminiscent of Greek tragedy in every sense." If you say so, Hector...
Stir Crazy
In contrast, the seven deleted scenes are anything but the usual bland cutaways we've come to expect. In fact you may find The Rape Scene particularly upsetting. Not that it's particularly graphic, but the power of suggestion in the blood-curdling screams and intrusive close-ups will be enough to have you squirming in your seat.
If it all proves too much, then Mr Chico's Balloons floating into the night sky against the strains of mournful violin strings should soothe your rattled nerves.
The addition of silent documentary footage from Carandiru prison, shot in 1928, is a thoughtful addition to this disc. The scenes of obedient prisoners doing jumping jacks in unison are clearly staged, lending an eerie Stepford quality to the whole thing. More recent footage of the prison complex being demolished to rapturous applause offers a sobering counterpoint.
While this line-up of special features is nowhere near as expansive as the film, it makes for an enlightening - if occasionally brutal - hour-long stretch.
EXTRA FEATURES



