Review by Bilge Ebiri.
With 2006's Man Push Cart and his latest, Chop Shop, Iranian-American director Ramin Bahrani has made a good case for himself as the neorealist poet laureate of New York's immigrant underside. Shot with breathtaking immediacy and featuring casts of non-professionals in real-life locations, Bahrani's films give narrative shape and compelling character shadings to documentary worlds. The result is something that feels like a new language being born, even though it owes a conscious debt to both non-fiction filmmakers like Shirley Clarke and realist narrative masters like John Cassavetes and Vittorio De Sica. Which is all just a fancy way of saying you really, really should not miss Chop Shop.
Bahrani trains his camera on parentless street kid Alejandro, aka Ale (Alejandro Polanco, in what must surely be the performance of the year, so far), who lives with his teenage sister Isamar above the auto-body shop where he often works. Both fiercely loyal and persistent, he's a street-hustling capitalist in training (see if you can spot the eerie similarities between this and There Will Be Blood), except that he's trying mainly to just keep his head above water. What dreams he has — and he does have them — are expressed with a poetic spareness that is both haunting and evocative. There isn't really that much plot to speak of — and yet the film is riveting, in part because Bahrani stays so focused on Ale's unflinching desire to stay ahead of the game.
Even so, the director still manages to effectively convey the broader world of the chop shops of Queens, so that a portrait of a community emerges from the film's accumulation of detail, character, and incident. And despite all the gritty despair and documentary intensity of Chop Shop, there's something lovely and almost mystical about Bahrani's vision: Like the best fairy tales, it is at heart a harrowing story about an innocent child in a scary world. Just don't look for any happy endings this time around. — Bilge Ebiri