None of the pyrotechnic, Globollywood ultraviolence in the film — which was actually extremely modest by Die Hard or 007 standards — is nearly as emotionally devastating as that climactic moment in which the camera just focuses wordlessly on the killer's naked face and refuses to turn away.
Stripped of its Globo-soap didacticism and its first-person shooter commercial tie-ins, Elite de Tropa is a Brazilian Full Metal Jacket.
There is the same sort of devastating and repulsive and pitiless and courageous emotional honesty about this film, at its best, as we find in the saga of Private Joker, "born to kill," in Kubrick's love letter to the Vietnam War.



