Carandiru tells some of the stories that occurred in Carandiru Penitentiary, which was the biggest prison in Latin America. The histories culminate with the 1992 massacre where 111 prisoners died, 102 killed by police. In 2002, one year before the release of the film, the Carandiru Penitentiary was closed.
The doctor (Luiz Carlos Vasconcelos) is an oncologist who arrives in the jail as a volunteer to test the prisoners for HIV infection.
Seeing the disease, overcrowding, and rampant circulation of drugs, the doctor realizes much of the prison is controlled by the inmates. They decorate their cells and have an established pecking order. The strong inhabit messy individual suites, and the weak are jammed together, as many as sixteen sharing a 100-square-foot cell.
Several narratives develop in the film: the attempted murder of Peixeira (Milhem Cortaz), the solitary confinement of Chico (Milton Gonçalves), and the romance between Lady Di (Rodrigo Santoro) and No Way (Gero Camilo).
The doctor establishes a routine and comes to see the prisoners as survivors.
The picture ends with a violent prison riot that historically took place on October 2, 1992. The repression of the riot became known as the Carandiru Massacre.
Later the film was shown at the Cannes Film Festival in France on May 19, 2003.
The picture was screened at various film festivals, including: the Toronto Film Festival, Canada; the Hamburg Film Festival, Germany; the Edda Film Festival, Ireland; the Muestra Internacional de Cine, Mexico; the Sundance Film Festival, USA; the Bangkok International Film Festival, Thailand; and others.
In the United States it opened on a limited basis on May 14, 2004.
Filming locations
The locations include: Carandiru Prison, São Paulo City, São Paulo, Brazil.
Stephen Holden, film critic for The New York Times, liked the film and its social message, and wrote, "Despite its confusion and the broadness of many of its strokes, the movie belongs to a Latin American tradition of heartfelt social realism in which the struggles of ordinary people assume a heroic dimension. The film is undeniably the work of an artist with the strength to gaze into the abyss and return, his humanity fortified.
Critic Jamie Russell wrote, "Making his point without resorting to liberal hand-wringing, Babenco charts the climactic violence with steely detachment. Brutal, bloody, and far from brief, it's shocking enough to make us realise that this jailhouse hell really is no city of God.