Although Brazilian director/producer Walter Salles' latest project, Lower City, only required his skills as a producer, he spoke with the media about much more — the state of cinema from South America and beyond. And since he has made some of the most crucial films from the continent below, such as Central Station and The Motorcyle Diaries, he's a good man to offer a learned analysis.

The L Magazine: Are you the media giant of Brazil now?

Walter Salles: Absolutely not. But I think I live in a country where there is much more talent than ways to express it. What we try to do is create possibilities for first time directors like Sérgio Machado, Karim Ainouz, and of course Fernando Meirelles, to express themselves.

The L: Are you ever a tempted to influence or give advice or intercede in some way with a director with a distinct style?

WS: If you look at all the interesting movements in cinema, like the moment when neo-realism surfaced in Italy, those movements are created by groups of directors, not one single director. So it was very conscious—that necessity to create a strong national cinema in Brazil. From very early on, since Central Station became a reality, I've been trying to do this. Fernando Meirelles is also producing a number of first time directors. This is just going on and on. Karim Ainouz, for instance, did Madame Satã for the Chicago Film Festival not too long ago. He's also producing new directors now. We're helping each other. Hopefully, when we're 80 or 90, some young producer will come and produce our films.

The L: Of the previous generation, who influenced you and your community?

WS: The generation from the Cinema Novo, directors like Glauber Rocha or Nelson Pereira dos Santos. That generation that was itself influenced by the French Nouveau Vague, neo-realist directors. This is a country that is still in the making. Our identity is still being constructed and altered as we speak. It's a country with so many stories. The number of young directors that appear every year to tell those stories is quite staggering. The same thing happened with the generation that came before me. They were also a part of the country's life when everything was booming and being redefined. For me, the Cinema Novo movement was really at the heart of me becoming a filmmaker. Sérgio Machado himself, coming from a state where many directors came from in the 60s — influenced by that gritty, urgent cinema that was made in Brazil in the 60s. Cinema that blended documentary and fiction, actors and non-actors, that was very academic but at the same time very sensorial. Those qualities are very apparent in Sérgio's first feature.

The L: Do you include Hector Babenco in that group?

WS: Hector came to Brazil at the end of Cinema Novo. Cinema Novo was not the main force in Brazilian cinema when Hector immigrated from
Argentina. He certainly paid homage to that generation of filmmakers in Pixote, for instance, which is a great, great film.

The L: I mention him because Carandiru has that mixture of real and not real. It also included Wagner Moura.

WS: That's also a sign of the strength of the actor in Brazilian cinema. It's not only film made by actors, but by the surfacing of great actors. The three main actors in Lower City were all virtually unknown 3 years ago. Today, they are present in so many Brazilian films from this latest wave of filmmakers. If you take a look at the history of cinema, you cannot dissociate from the New York independent movement, or Scorsese and Robert DeNiro. Today we have a number of great young directors in their early 30s, but we also have a number of great actors like Wagner Moura, Lázaro Ramos, or Alice Braga who are really unique in their craft. Actors who are capable but also extremely courageous, who are able to dive into a specific reality and transform it. This union in Brazil between a number of young directors, and a number of good, young actors, is really characterizing cinema in Brazil today.

The L: Traditionally, it's always been Brazilian actresses who have been more famous than the male actors. Who do you think are the hot actresses of today?

WS: Alice is certainly one of the best young actresses that we have in the country. I would say that a number of other young actresses are surfacing in theater and cinema almost every month. Interestingly, a number of young male actors are also appearing. That was not very common in Brazil 30 years ago. During the military dictatorship, being an actor was not an easy endeavor. It took the return of democracy in the late 80s and the beginning of the 90s for a totally new generation of actors to blossom. I would say that its not only in Brazil, but also in Argentina or in Mexico where you have great actors in their early 20s. They are the result of the return of democracy in these countries.

The L: Do you think there is a cross-cultural integration — like you working with Gael Garcia Bernal — not just other Brazilian actors, but also throughout other Latin American communities?

WS: I think we know each other better than we did 20 years ago. The return to democracy is what triggered this situation. 20 years ago our societies were closed societies and we had very little information about what was happening in Argentina or in Chile or in Mexico. Today, it is the opposite. There is a very constant flow or exchange of films and plays and music from one country to the next. This is what allows Latin American cinema as a whole to be a stronger cinema.

The L: So much of Brazilian cinema is about the underclass. When the dictatorship was in power, they wanted to ignore that. Do you think we're going to see more stories about an emerging middle class?

WS: Argentinean cinema does that pretty well, I think. It focuses on the middle class trying to survive the economic chaos of the 90s and of the beginning of this millennium. On the other hand, I think that Brazilian cinema has had the obligation to talk about the underprivileged classes because we were not allowed to talk about the social and political problems that plagued this country during the military dictatorship. This explains City of God and Madame Satã. These were films about territories that were not framed during the 80s or 70s. They had a major role in providing the Brazilians with a mirror to show that reality was much more complex than you think just by watching soap operas on television. Now, we have to move one step ahead. We need cinema that is more polyphonic in nature that can talk about all the social classes. Not only about the underprivileged. We're very conscious that the scope of our cinema has to widen at this stage if we want to reflect society as a whole.

The L: Why is Bahia a state that everybody likes?

WS: Bahia is a point of encounter between Africa and Europe in Brazil. Salvador, the capital of Bahia, is the most African of all our cities. It is the point of collision of two cultures that were very different at the start, but somehow merged to create something that is very Brazilian. This is a very fascinating thing to focus upon. Sérgio is from Bahia as were the filmmakers of the 60s. I think it was very natural for him to go back to his origins and do a film about the territory that he knew so well. The strength of a filmmaker lies in his roots. Doing a feature that focuses on your city that you know so well is a very good starting point.

The L: How do these directors come by you?

WS: Fernando Meirelles was very well known in Brazil before making City of God. Although he was a major in architecture, he was a well-known documentary filmmaker in the 80s and 90s. He was also an ace in the world of publicity and commercials in the 90s. When he optioned the book that gave birth to City of God and brought us the project and invited us to be co-producers with him, we thought it would be a great film to start with. Fernando is not only a very talented filmmaker, but he's also a really great guy. You want to have him as a friend. I knew him for many years before being on the same boat with him in City of God. He's really the one who's responsible—not only for discovering the book, but putting the project together. We managed to put the financing together, but he is the pro and the creator and the guy who helmed the project from beginning to end.

The L: There have been many powerful Brazilian documentaries lately.

WS: Reality in Brazil is constantly surprising us. The difficulty we have when we try to do fiction is that we try to find stories that are as strong as the ones that are printed every day in the newspaper. It seems reality is always a step ahead of anything we can ever imagine. Therefore, you have extraordinary stories like Bus 174, that great documentary by José Padilha.

The L: Or the real Carandiru story.

WS: Yes. That is also true. All of these stories are constantly hitting us. Therefore, there are a great number of young documentary filmmakers surfacing today. This is the result of a country whose identity is being defined as we speak, being defined now. American society is much more crystallized than our society. You have solved problems that we're still trying to solve. These questions: Who are we? Where do we come from? Where do we go?  What kind of society do we want to create? This is very much at the heart of every single Brazilian documentary or every single Brazilian fiction.

The L: Did you find yourself being kicked in the form from a specific directorial situation? Are you going to try to do another film outside of Brazil?

WS: I've just done 2 films outside of Brazil in a row: Motorcycle Diaries was a film that I made throughout Latin America. I had to learn Spanish in order to direct the film. I didn't know Spanish before the film. Directing is really about precision. Just one word can make a hell of a difference when you're directing. I had to prepare for almost 3 years to do that film. And then I had my first English speaking film experience. So I'm eager to go back to Brazil and to the Portuguese language and to do a Brazilian film next, which
I should do in the next 6 months. Ideally, I see myself really keeping a close contact with my own culture and roots. Eventually, I will grab my passport and direct films in territories that I may not be able to investigate in my own country.

The L: Do you think you have come full circle in the way you started and the way you are now?

WS: I never thought of a "career" to start with. My passion for cinema transcends that in the sense that cinema is my life from beginning to end. Mostly, I don't try to predefine a route, but opt for projects that I connect with for sometimes very direct reasons, and sometimes for very strange reasons. Do I have the impression that I've gone full circle? Happily, no. I have the impression that there is a lot more to come—different themes and stories to be told.

The L: What do you think is the future for Brazilian cinema?

WS: I think we will continue to work in a very collective manner. We will persevere in creating a national cinema that will have an impact in our country, but can also be universal in its essence. I think that our country is a melting pot of different cultures. Many things that happen here are very resonant in so many forms. Sérgio's film is quite expressive in this sense. It is meant to talk about the couple and the healing possibilities of love. It is quite amazing because it does so in such a fresh manner. I think our films will continue to be urgent, muscular, directly linked to our reality and yet universal.