Following the international acclaim of Y Tu Mamá También, the Mexican screenwriter Carlos Cuarón, who was nominated for an Oscar for the script, marked his directorial debut with a story he had been developing for the past couple of years: Rudo y Cursi opened in Mexico last December in a record number of cinemas and has well-received in Buenos Aires throughout January.
The darlings of Mexican cinema, Guillermo del Toro (Pan's Labyrinth), Alfonso Cuarón (Y Tu Mamá También, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban) and Alejandro González Iñárritu (21 Grams, Babel), joined forces to produce Rudo y Cursi, a tale of two brothers from a humble Mexican background who are talented enough at football to whet the greedy appetite of an Argentinian agent. Once in Mexico City the brothers are signed up by rival clubs, with predictable highs and lows ensuing.
It seems surprising given the richness of the human tales that abound in the world of football, the scope of emotions that the game itself awakens, that there have not been more attempts to harness the soul of the sport in a work of fiction.
Yet, despite the tales, somehow it is always the action itself that grips us: the fictional element never quite captures the imagination in the same way. Another production which has been in the pipeline for a couple of years now is an Argentinian film about Carlos Tevez which, unlike Rudo y Cursi, aims to merge fact with fiction. Part documentary, part drama, the idea is to tell the player's story with Tevez playing himself.
Speaking by telephone from Manchester this week, Tevez told me his schedule to start shooting the film is not quite inked in yet. As you no doubt have read, he has a few rather pressing concerns currently enveloping his professional life at the moment. However, last year he did manage to find the time to read and correct the script himself, working in his own changes with the scriptwriter.
His remarkable story can be traced back to the 1978 World Cup, held in Argentina, when the ruling military regime decided to hide the poorer elements of Buenos Aires, as it was felt visiting dignitaries should not be exposed to the pitiful sight of acres and acres of slums spread along the motorway that led from the international airport to Buenos Aires city centre. Osvaldo Cacciatore, the mayor at the time, oversaw the construction of a series of high-rise developments. Built around 13 "nodes" of three towers blocks and a water tower each, the new neighbourhood was named Ejército de los Andes (Army of the Andes). Originally designed to house around 26,000 of the city's least privileged residents, current estimations suggest the population is closer to 80,000, while some claim that it has actually reached 100,000.
Its nickname Fuerte Apache (Fort Apache) was allegedly coined by a journalist after a particularly bloody shoot-out that was reminiscent of a Wild West movie. The history of criminal power within the tower blocks is the stuff of Tarantino rather then Sergio Leone, though.
For some time, most of the gangs of bandits were ruled by "El Loco Jerry", whose "law" dictated that no thieving was to go on within the neighbourhood – all crimes should take place outside. Jerry met his comeuppance when he was dethroned by another criminal, who danced on his victim's corpse with a gun in each hand. Just to show who was in charge, you understand. Even though this passes for old hat back in Fuerte Apache, it's part of the legend of the place, one of the reasons it is said that even the police are too scared to go in there.
It's not only the lawlessness of some its inhabitants that is fearsome. The buildings themselves have long been deemed unsuitable for human habitation. In 2000 the tower blocks in nodes 8 and 9 were blown up, years after the city agreed this was a necessary health and safety measure. Tonnes of dynamite were required and the explosions were similar to the way boarded-up houses in Hamsterdam are blown up in the US series The Wire, where the ghetto practices of gang warfare and drug pushing are meticulously enmeshed with city politics and corruption. Like in The Wire, the body count in Fuerte Apache is too much for anyone to regard as acceptable, only one is not fiction.
Tevez was born and bred there, and has also often echoed the views of those kids who say "it's not as bad as all that" when probed by the incredulous voyeurism of us outsiders. I have never questioned him about his childhoodoutside of football.
But he has been asked often enough and he tends to display genuine pride in his origins. A close friend from his childhood, however, was "drawn into the excitement" of gang life, as Tevez once put it, and was shot dead. Tevez first heard of this during the Under-17 World Cup in Trinidad & Tobago. The news came "just after we were defeated by France, and it finished me off," he said. But he also has insisted that "everywhere they steal in the city, in any neighbourhood, people always say the thieves are from the Fuerte. It's nonsense, if you want to live a quiet life in Fuerte Apache you can. To talk about the Fuerte you have to have lived it. I wouldn't go around talking about your neighbourhood."
Tevez will turn 25 this week in his comfortable home in Manchester, where he is at the centre of a multimillion-pound negotiation between one of the most commercially successful football clubs in the world, Manchester United, and a nebulous consortium. More than any other player in Argentina, his role in the national squad is undisputed, and his popularity with fans transcends the traditional boundaries of club colours.
Sports psychologist Marcelo Roffe, who worked for years with the youth divisions of Argentina's internationals, first met Tevez before the Under-17 World Cup. "I remember talking to the three main referents of that squad at the time," he says. "Tevez, Javier Mascherano, and a player called Hugo Colace who never became as huge as the other two [he currently plays for Barnsley]. Tevez was already very capable of self-criticism, a good listener. Considering the education he's had – very basic compared to ours, say, or even other players' – he's outstandingly intelligent." But there's also a sense that Tevez personifies something beyond his individual traits, according to Roffe. "He embodies a social dream – the kid from the tough background who makes it."
Perhaps it is this rags-to-riches tale that goes straight to the heart of most football fans in Argentina, but there's something about Carlitos which makes him stand out from the rest."
These past few weeks in Buenos Aires a phenomenon has become more noticeable – more than any other emblematic Boca Juniors player, he is also revered by River Plate fans. His ability to get under the skin of football fans in a positive way has been noted often – as an Argentinian he won the hearts of Brazilians while at Corinthians, became an undisputed fans' favourite during his one year at West Ham, and last summer he draped himself in his national flag on British soil when winning the Premier League and again in Moscow when he lifted the Champions League trophy. But the adulation from River fans is unique – Juan Román Riquelme doesn't awaken it and nor did Diego Maradona. River supporters accepted his apology after he celebrated a goal at River by pretending to be a chicken – River supporters, of course, being known as Hens.
One fan said: "It's not just that, although obviously that was commendable. When you watch him play, there's something about his never-say-die-attitude that makes you want him in your team."
It's hard to say what a film about Tevez could add to the real thing; it's as if there's a genuine respect for the game of football, an actual love he has that he transmits to the spectator. The off-the-pitch tale is full of the dramatic ingredients of a thriller, a novel and a tragedy – yet the essence of his magic is in the football itself.
