Cité Soleil, one of the most densely-populated shanty towns in Haiti, has been deemed by the United Nations to be the most dangerous place on Earth, and in 80 minutes, Danish filmmakers Asger Leth and Milos Loncarevic attempt to prove this fact to us, through introducing us to both the political leaders of Haiti itself, and the de facto figureheads of the various slums of Cité Soleil. What is perhaps most disturbing of all is that all of this murder, poverty, and gang-inspired violence is a mere 2-hour flight from Miami.

Ghosts of Cité Soleil is undoubtedly guerrilla filmmaking at its most basic - the crew involved, whilst never appearing on camera or projecting their voices, immerse themselves deep into the volatile trenches of Cité Soleil, and admirably so - this place is Hell-on-Earth. All too many times, for lack of their own safety, do these filmmakers stand mere yards away from gunfights and other dangers, but with the crew safe and this documentary now in the can, one must give these people their due. There are, interestingly enough, times when Ghosts of Cité Soleil appears to possess some essence of production values under this guise of guerrilla-filmmaking - there are some sweeping helicopter shots every so often, and whilst this is by-and-large a Super-8 handcam affair, there are a few moments that were clearly captured on more flashy film stock.

This documentary revolves around the lives of two of the five leaders of Cité Soleil, the first calling himself "2Pac", a rap-enthusiast who, with a 3-year-old daughter in tow, simply wants peace. He has nothing but contempt for the (at the time) President of Haiti - Jean-Bertrand Aristide, yet is not a political dissenter in the gun-totting fashion you may expect. Rather, 2Pac sees the rap lyrics he writes as "nukes", which is a nice idea, but frankly, quite futile in any instance, let alone in Haiti. I have no idea how 2Pac manages it, but he is able to contact musical artist Wyclef Jean on the phone (judging by their rapport, they're long-time friends) and rap to him down the phone. Wyclef likes what he hears, and 2Pac declares that he needs to get out of Haiti and allow his music to be heard - it's almost inspiring how, in this down-trodden environment, 2Pac finds a passion that drives him so.

Much of the conflict in Haiti emerges from the "Chimeres" (roughly translated as "ghosts"), a group supposedly (but unofficially) affiliated with the government, seeking to intimidate and quash political dissenters. Aristide naturally denies this, of course, and whether or not the claim is true, it's still a frightening prospect, even as we sit comfortably hundreds of miles away. This is merely the first of many shocking images presented to us in this film - for example, whilst children handling weapons may have a slightly dampened effect on us now in lieu of films such as City of God, Blood Diamond and Babel, actually being exposed to real footage of such is something entirely different. It's exposition is brief in Ghosts of Cité Soleil, but nonetheless worrying.

The second leader of Cité Soleil we meet is Bily, 2Pac's brother, a decidedly more combative man - a member of the Chimeres, in fact. This naturally creates a dormant animosity between the brothers, in that one wants peace whilst the other partakes in direct action, but 2Pac attests that he respects his brother, and simply doesn't involve himself in that side of Bily's life. Despite their at times diametric opposition, these brothers are both family men with children, fighting for what they believe to be the most viable and effective means to an end.

One of the more curious individuals in the film is Lele, a French relief worker who, upon visiting the only hospital in Cité Soleil, urges the wounded Chimeres to not simply be hired guns for the President. Her cause is undeniably noble, but, like 2Pac's, more often than not falls upon deaf ears - how much change can one person truly cause? If any part of Ghosts of Cité Soleil appeared scripted or telegraphed in anyway, it would have to be her "character", ultimately falling for one of the brothers, strangely enough.

Cité Soleil is a vision of Hell in every sense of the word - deformed and unclothed children are helpless, whilst dead bodies and pregnancies litter the streets. Watching a newborn baby being carried away with a crudely cut umbilical cord still attached, still with scissors dug into the cord, is both one of the most vile and disturbingly memorable images I've seen recently.

Opposing the Chimeres is the "Cannibal Army", a gang of ex-Aristide supporters who, in a surprising 180, turned their weapons against Aristide following the death of one of their army. I can't say I found this terribly well-explained - a whole army changing their stance due to the death of one person does seem rather strange. Nevertheless, their intent is to roll through Haiti, taking as many cities as possible, before reaching the President's residence and attempting to overthrow him.

Ghosts of Cité Soleil is, at heart, a test of brotherhood, as 2Pac begins to grow increasingly impatient with Bily's behaviours. Meanwhile, true terror takes hold in Cité Soleil as a death occurs in the group we're following, and the Cannibal Army arrive at their destination, at which stage all Hell breaks loose (as if it already hadn't). There is jubilant happiness on one side, and smouldering anger on the other - the views presented are somewhat weighed in favour of those attempting to overthrow Aristide, but at least there is some sense of balance.

This documentary is at its best when it gains impressive, unprecedented access to both the leaders in Cité Soleil, and the police officers attempting to arrest them. It's a strange sort of access though, and I'm not sure if it's totally moral to talk to these supposedly dangerous leaders, and then moments later talk to the police, who are attempting to apprehend them.

These soldiers, as they stand with their machine guns in hand, may appear to be emotionless, acerbic individuals, but by the time Ghosts of Cité Soleil reaches its close, we realise that behind these tough veneers are people who feel and hurt like anyone else. In some final moments of thoughtful reflection, we are reminded that these people have families like any of us, and one must consider whether their causes are worth risking the sanctity of that construct. Ghosts of Cité Soleil offers little levity by its conclusion, delivering a final, crushing blow to the viewer as we discover the heartbreaking fates of those we, dare I say, became friendly with for the last 80 minutes (backed by Brian Eno's superbly emotive song "An Ending"). If one can take any consolation from the final pieces of information we're given, it's that perhaps there's a little good in most, if not all of us.