As I watched Chop Shop, I was under the impression it was an Italian neorealist film, only set in New York and in 2008. Rahmin Bahrani draws from quintessential neoralism a contemplative eye and a restrained pace, in an attempt to tell a wrenching story in the least effectist way possible. The scenarios in Chop Shop are so explicit and overwhelming that it's easy to take them for granted and overlook the true misery they imply.

Alejandro is a little boy who works in an auto repair shop. He does his job fiercely, and he has all the savoir faire of a man who's been in the business for years. He lures costumers into his garage, directs them, learns all the tasks, and does some side "work" selling pirate DVDs and stolen parts. He aspires to having a business of his own and collects money to buy a battered truck for his sister, Isamar, to have her own mobile food stand.

Alejandro interacts daily with hard-working mechanics just as well as car thieves and stolen parts dealers. He works overtime and eats only popcorn for dinner. However, his refusal to be swallowed up by this environment and his desire for a better life are monumental and never falter. The film documents some of his every day activities and struggles, failures and successes, but it doesn't bring a resolution; mainly, because I don't think any resolution could be satisfying. Alejandro has his undying will and energy to work, and little else.

Perhaps one of Bahrani's objectives was to give way to this realization: Alejandro inhabits his unpleasant world with such vigor and expertise that I often forgot he is just a boy and definitely does not belong there. This reminded me of millions of Alejandros around the world, in every city and in every corner.

I guess what I am aiming at, and it scares me a little to say it, because it's a word that should be used carefully regarding cinema, is that Chop Shop is very realistic. True enough, we've seen films about children either struggling or adrift in urban adversity. Some much more elaborate than Chop Shop; some grittier, some very pessimistic, some a little too hopeful. From Shoeshine through Los Olvidados and on to Slumdog Millionaire, the subject has been explored. However, I find Bahrani's perspective to be, so far, outstanding in its balance, as is his ability to refrain from suggesting conclusions. Also, he didn't write Alejandro as an immoral character or an overly moral one either, he just made him a boy, toughened by his circumstances, but a boy nonetheless.

I know the characters in Chop Shop exist, I've seen them, and I understand that morality, in their circumstances, is confusing and a total mindfuck. In such precarious situations of poverty and in the desperation to climb out of them, moral choices are almost instinctive, they come from the core, from the most basic and untouchable place in the spirit, and the film conveys just that, through Alejandro's -and the other characters'- way of behaving in front of reality.

As I said, the film hardly has a plot and it is made in documentary style, since it is but a recount of Alejandro's daily chores. The script excels to the point of my almost forgetting there was one. It's an intimate look into the life of this fascinating child, filmed in stark and dirty streets, and featuring many non-actors. Alejandro is played by Alejandro Polanco, and although some of his lines feel a little... well... acted... he is overall as natural and convincing, fast-talking and charming and heartbreaking as the character could've been. He is, obviously, the heart of the story.

The magic of neorealism, for me, is that it doesn't make things easy for you: in spite of its rawness, it takes time and empathy to get involved emotionally with the characters. Ramin Bahrani's 21st century film follows along those lines, precisely in account of its outstanding realism. I think it's a truly original and challenging film and he is a director to keep an eye on, by all means.