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Chop Shop is a visual poem, a stirring, hopeful one transported from the time of lore to the time of now, from cathedrals to the streets.

The Film – This deft, tonal art piece is a bewildering stunner and a new coming-of-age classic of urban filmmaking, joining the society chiefed by Satyajit Ray’s ageless 1954 masterwork Pather Panchali and otherwise comprised of Hector Babenco’s Pixote, David Gordon Green’s George Washington, and Fernando Meirelles’ City of God. Yet, unlike the aforementioned, Chop Shop settles its location on New York turf (right across the way, in fact, from Shea Stadium, home of the Mets), where the dreams of millions are fertilized—and, as we’re shown here through a surveyor’s lens, where the dreams of millions aren’t. Shop, which premiered at Cannes last year, is one of the most seductively raw American independent ventures in memory, and it’s graphed with bravery and, more notably, genuine passion—dynamics shared with its extraordinary young study, Ale—by its expressive composer, Ramin Bahrani.

Alejandro, or “Ale” (played by the pristine Alejandro Polanco, skipping his public school classes in the name of cinema), is a young street-raised orphan living and working in a junkyard auto shop in Willets Point, Queens (known locally as “The Iron Triangle” for its industrial locale) with his 16-year-old sister, Isamar (Isamar Gonzalez). But, as one would expect for a child alone/without guidance in the boroughs of New York City, times are rough, and the world is harsh. Even so, the ever-optimistic Ale and Isamar are determined to make something of their lives, spending every waking moment working hard for money—when not niggling autos at the expense of his boss Rob (Rob Sowulski) or pulling others apart for chop shop mechanic Ahmad (Ahmad Rasvi), Ale’s pawning off DVDs where his sister works a food-vending cart or selling candy on the subway with his neighborhood buddy Carlos—which they’ve been saving for their eventual ticket to success, freedom, and happiness.

Bahrani’s heartfelt exposé of childhood in a madly adult world has been praised for its neorealist style. But, though the film certainly fits all the criteria that characterize Italian Neorealism—story of poverty, location filming, nonprofessional actors (none of the leads, aside from Razvi, whose first ever acting assignment was the starring role in Bahrani’s 2005 debut Man Push Cart, had ever so much as took a role in a stage play, let alone in a motion picture)—the term itself can only account for so many levels, and Chop Shop graduates to higher ones. No “neo-” preface is needed (or accurate); this movie is real. 4 ½ stars

The Extras – Perhaps because Bahrani is too unfamiliar with compiling supplementary material for his films’ discs, or maybe because his actors had to return to their schooling or regular day jobs, the Chop Shop DVD doesn’t offer anything more than optional feature commentary, the movie’s theatrical trailer, a slew of indie previews, and a compilation of screen rehearsals between performers. But, I will say, with little-to-no-time committed to prior moviemaking, the players’ rehearsals are a sight to see, if but merely a slice of the obligatory entertainment offered in the feature presentation. And sharing the disc with the picture itself has to count for something, too. 3 ½ stars

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