"Carioca funk" ("carioca" means someone or something from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil) has been on the map of every favela (slum) in Rio -- there are over 600 of them, mind you -- for at least 20 years. Every weekend, at least 1 million young boys and girls from Rio's favelas go to "funk parties", the only night-time entertainment they can afford. In recent years, the "Carioca funk" has spread over major cities in Brazil and is now a hit with middle-class youths (who dig its overtly sexual choreography and "double-entendre"/hardcore lyrics), and has been granted media "visibility". Always hammered by musical critics and cultural intelligentsia (with the exception of anthropologist Hermano Vianna, who prophetically foresaw it as a powerful and lasting cultural and social phenomenon), it now starts to generate big $$$ in Brazil and attract the international DJ-jet-set for its "exotic, sex-liberating" beat, forcing the media to re-phrase its discourse (as it happened in the U.S. with rap and hip-hop). The documentary "Sou Feia Mas Tô na Moda" ("Ugly but Trendy") tries to cover this ground, but is a MAJOR disappointment with its amateurish, superficial, bland treatment of a fascinating, highly controversial subject.
"Carioca funk" is only remotely linked to U.S. black funk music of the 1970s. It's rather a very simple, home-studio-made collage of musical elements that include a syncopated electronic bass groove (the so-called "Miami bass"), an electronic drums looped beat, some bombastic keyboard effects, no harmonic instruments (sometimes there's a sort of pop acoustic guitar), a shred of melodic line (often sung off key), and -- since recently -- a hypnotic beat of drums used in Candomblé (Brazilian-African religion) rites: the "tamborzão". The extremely vital Carioca funk lyrics were, at first (in the 1980s and 1990s), "the voice of the favelas", a social statement of the destitute, semi- literate, Government-forgotten but very creative people who live in the slums and put into music their impressions of reality, denouncing the omnipresent violence of both the police and the drug traffickers, poverty, racism, unemployment, etc.
However, in recent years -- in the (ephemerally?) successful attempt to go "mainstream" and stop the "destitute rant" -- the "social" lyrics gave way completely to sexually soft/hardcore, bitchy or macho themes. Some are downright explicit, nicknamed "proibidões", which are naturally download hits on the internet. Squeaky-voiced girls talk candidly about oral or anal sex calling themselves bitches ("cachorras"). Teenage boys brag (as usual) about their sexual feats. It's not unlike gangsta rappers in its genesis, themes, sense of humor, poor grammar, marked separation of male/female roles and sexy dance appeal with incredibly athletic butt-bouncing. But unlike their millionaire U.S. "bros", the Brazilian "funk stars" are still downright poor and live in the favelas -- with very few exceptions, like the unbelievably crass singer Tati Quebra-Barraco (who wrote the song that originated the film's title). Now in her late 20s, a mother at 13, nicknamed the "funk Cinderella", she's undergone several cosmetic and liposuction surgeries, commands five-figure fees per gig and lives in a high-class condo in São Paulo (for how long, one wonders...).
We also meet the "king" of funk, DJ Marlboro, the music producer/radio host/impresario/record-label owner/mogul of a "funk party empire" who, FYI, is not from a favela background. He's now landing big on the international nightclub circuit from London to Ibiza. We see him in a limo in Paris, babbling some B.S. about the "artistic and social value" of funk, while the real "root funkeiros" (MCs, DJs, singers, composers) walk through the shabby alleys of Cidade de Deus and get something like US$ 150 a gig (the de rigueur funk dancers who cheer up the gigs for thousands of people get paid some US$ 25/gig!! -- I've known a few of them personally, they told me that). It's the same old story: managers, agents, producers, record companies, radio stations, media corporations and night-club owners stuff their pockets, while the boys and girls who actually create "carioca funk" eat the dust.
It's very symptomatic that the funk cultural phenomenon -- always associated with the poorest social stratum in urban Brazil -- should get this poor, dismissing, shallow film treatment; watch "2 Filhos de Francisco" (2005) about "sertanejo" music, with its million-dollar budget about multi-million dollar stars Zezé DiCamargo&Luciano and see the difference. No one was asking for a big budget or "chic" visuals here, of course (that would be a paradox): but it's SO lame it's really offensive.
"Sou Feia..." has TWO good scenes: the animated opening credits by Alan Sieber and the first sequence showing an a-Capella rhyming improvisation of "funkeiros" from Cidade de Deus (yes, the same "City of God" of Fernando Meirelles's famous film). They mix the century-long tradition of the Partido-Alto (samba improvisation in rhymes) with the carioca funk beat, wearing their over-sized clothes, fake (pirate) Nike sneakers and NBA caps. Unfortunately, from this scene on it's downhill: the interviews are poor, the editing lacks rhythm, film has one of the worst sound mixes EVER, so you won't get half of the lyrics (foreign audiences will perhaps fare better with subtitles). The...er... "cinematography" ...well, home-videos seem like Spielberg compared to this.
My vote: 3 stars out of 10; the two extra stars are for MCs Doca & Cidinho seminal, great lyrics for "O Rap da Felicidade" (proving how socially and politically aware the funk message once WAS) and for funk composer Deise Tigrona's undeniable charisma and sense of humor.
