CHOP SHOP (NOT RATED) ***   

Directed by Ramin Bahrani. 84 minutes.

Starring Alejandro Polanco and Isamar Gonzales. Released by Koch Lorber Films. 

Director Ramin Bahrani delivers another solid Italian neo-realist-inspired chronicle of hard living in New York City with “Chop Shop,” his sophomore 

film and a favorite at the Cannes and Toronto film festivals. Using the neglected neighborhood of Willets Point as a backdrop, Bahrani’s film offers a 

slice of hard knock life, following around seemingly parentless Puerto Rican youth Ale (Alejandro Polanco, 12) and his sister, Isamar (Isamar Gonzales,

16), as they struggle to make a living and inhabit a tiny room above the titular shop. 

Clad mostly in a sleeveless blue t-shirt and jeans, Ale spends his mornings working on cars and the rest of his days hawking candy on the subway and 

pirated DVDs to Queens merchants, stealing hubcaps and occasionally snatching purses. In a moment of bitter irony, Ale stands in the trashed streets 

of his neighborhood as a large sign which tells passersby to “Make Dreams Happen” looms at nearby Shea Stadium. Much like his previous film “Man 

Push Cart,” a 2006 tale of a Pakistani street vendor from Manhattan which bared some similarities to “The Bicycle Thief,” Bahrani’s latest is 

cinematically rewarding albeit emotionally punishing. 

With its lack of scripted dialogue and visual realism, unaware moviegoers could mistake “Chop Shop” for a documentary despite the filmmaker’s 

questionable choice of not explaining the complete lack Ale and Isamar’s parental units. The film’s locale nearly rivals Ale as its most pivotal character 

with its masses of immigrant characters performing their day’s work on the streets of Willets Point for all to see, its trains rumbling on overhead tracks

and cars gliding down near-deserted streets, blaring Reggaeton. In an interview last fall, Bahrani told me he typically becomes fascinated with a location

 and then writes a script inspired by it.

Although the film is broken down into vignettes of Ale and Isamar’s daily activities, emphasizing location and visual style over story and character 

development, Bahrani creates a fair amount of suspense through his deceptively simple setup. Such as, does the chop shop’s owner know that Ale is 

allowing his sister to live there as well and, if not, what will he do about it? Or, will Isamar’s extracurricular moneymaking ventures of the evening yield 

tragic consequences? And, will a business venture made between Ale and a pal’s uncle pan out?

In Bahrani’s films, his downtrodden character’s daily lives are a source of unease, negating the need for plot-heavy suspense. Much like “Man Push 

Cart,” his latest explores themes of poverty, immigrant life in urban centers and dreams of a brighter future, making it the U.S. equivalent of acclaimed

films about street children such as India’s “Salaam Bombay” and two films from Brazil - “City of God” and “Pixote.” The director, who is of Iranian 

descent but was born in North Carolina and now lives in Brooklyn, required Polanco to work in a Willets Point locale similar to the one portrayed in 

the film, so the film has an authentic, lived-in feel to it. And Ale is given just the right amount of characterization, revealing about as much as a sullen 

teen of his age might in an actual documentary. 

“Chop Shop” unsentimentally shows not only how the other half lives, but also how nearly impossible it appears to be able to break out of the cycle of 

poverty. In one of the film’s more poignant scenes, Ale does pull-ups on a bar reserved for hanging clothing in his humble abode as if he were literally 

attempting to pull himself out of his lot in life. One of the film’s more ironic touches is the fact that he is constantly surrounded by a literal means for 

escape - namely, hundreds of automobiles - but is trapped by his age, lack of parental guidance and, of course, money. In fact, the film keeps us 

nervous throughout its 85-minute running time as to whether anyone will discover where Ale stashes his cash. “Chop Shop” ends on a figurative note 

of escape, playing off an earlier scene in which a mentor, of sorts, teaches Ale how to catch pigeons while feeding them. The film is undoubtedly sad, 

but its tone of despair is occasionally infiltrated by a note of hope.