Civil injustice is more common than it should be, in that it occurs anywhere at all in the world. This much we know. We know it happens here, on our shores. We know it's happened across the world, but being a relative neophyte, I was unaware of the problems plaguing the suburbs and slums of Paris, at least circa 1995, though from reports I've read, things haven't changed nearly enough in the past 15 years. Thus, if it wasn't for the fact that two of the men in the picture above are recognizable from their work in more well-known foreign and American film and TV, I'd almost believe that La Haine, Matthieu Kassovitz's blistering and painful drama, was a documentary. It's not just that the film seems so real, it's that every detail is so pitch-perfect (or feels that way; again, I'm a know-nothing when it comes to this issue), and that every statement is voiced in subtle ways, not hitting us over the proverbial heads.
Like other urban dramas, such as Boyz N The Hood, this movie is racially charged, the threat of violence hovering over the entire city of Paris like a flood of mosquitoes. That La Haine was shot in black-and-white only compounds the ominous idea that terror is just around the corner. The cinematography in the film, by Pierre Aim, is exceptional and one of the best reasons to watch the film. One particular shot that struck me occurs near the middle of the film, as one of the denizens of the slums sticks his boombox out his bedroom window, playing loud and abrasive hip-hop for all to hear. The camera, craning past the complex of buildings, watches impassively, gliding across the roofs, as the music, the loud and forceful message of freedom blares its way past the ghetto, right into the ears of every man, woman, and child walking the streets of Paris.
Also walking those streets, simultaneously friendly and foreboding, are Vinz, Said, and Herbert, played by Vincent Cassel, Said Taghmaoui, and Hubert Kounde, three teens who appear, to all who walk by them, to be thugs of the lower order. Vinz is the hothead of the three, having potentially torched a local building the night before the movie takes place. As they travel from back alley to warehouse, art show to apartment, these three friends experience high tension throughout a tumultuous 24-hour period. Cassel and Taghmaoui play the two characters who assume they're far smarter than they actually are, whereas Kounde's character is slightly, if only just, aware that their lots are going to stay exactly where they are. Vinz and Said talk a big game, but Hubert knows they're never leaving their slums. The class system is still very intact in Paris.
But what of their friendship? Said, despite not being as quick to anger, often is pranked by his friends; when he and Hubert are viciously detained by police officers late in the film, their connection with Vinz is frayed. Vinz, fashioning himself as a Travis Bickle for the 1990s, is focused on the now, concerning himself with bluster about killing cops should another of his friends, Abdel, die at their hands after having been detained by cops the night before. A crucial scene in a bathroom also proves that these three--big shock--act tough even though they're still kids around the playground beneath the chatter. La Haine is an arresting experience, shocking, visceral, fascinating, and captivating. That said, such a film seems almost like an artifact in a time capsule, if only because....well, things HAVE to be better than they were in 1995, right? Right?
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