Storyline
A film commissioned by the Algerian government that shows the Algerian revolution from both sides. The French foreign legion has left Vietnam in defeat and has something to prove. The Algerians are seeking independence. The two clash. The torture used by the French is contrasted with the Algerian's use of bombs in soda shops. A look at war as a nasty thing that harms and sullies everyone who participates in it.
Writers: Franco Solinas, Franco Solinas, Brahim Hadjadj, Jean Martin, Yacef Saadi, Jean Martin, Yacef Saadi, Brahim Hadjadj, Samia Kerbash, Tommaso Neri, Ugo Paletti, Fusia El Kader, Franco Moruzzi, Mohamed Ben Kassen, , , , , , , , ,
Cast: Jean Martin -
Col. Mathieu
Yacef Saadi -
Djafar
(as Saadi Yacef)
Brahim Hadjadj -
Ali La Pointe
(as Brahim Haggiag)
Samia Kerbash -
One of the girls
Tommaso Neri -
Captain
Ugo Paletti -
Captain
Fusia El Kader -
Halima
Franco Moruzzi -
(as Franco Morici)
Mohamed Ben Kassen -
Petit Omar
Trivia:
As the sunlight was so intense in Algeria, white sheets were hung over the top of most locations to diffuse the intensity. See more »
Goofs:
Ali's first assignment is to assault a police officer. During this, the cop's hat falls to the ground, and the position of the hat changes between cuts. See more »
Quotes:
User Review
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Perhaps no other cinematic depiction of revolt against colonial rule is so
detailed, vivid, and specific as the 1965 Battle of Algiers (La battaglia
di
Algeri, just reissued in a new print and having limited distribution in
the
US). It's a vivid and very specific recreation of the insurrection against
the French in Algiers in the late Fifties that shows how the French
systematically eradicated that insurrection. It's also a story repeated
with
variations in dozens of parts of the globe now, as then. But as I'm not
the
first to note, it's neither a partisan tract nor a user manual. It was
therefore foolish of the Pentagon to watch it recently as if tips on how
to
control Iraqi `resistance'/'terrorism' were to be found in it, and it has
been equally foolish of the Black Panthers or other revolutionaries to
watch
it seeking tactical information for their struggles. Those tactics did not
succeed; but neither did the effort to quell the independence movement:
the
French won the battle but lost the war. A process that might have
proceeded
peacefully in a matter of months, takes years to happen. The film
documents
the sad foolishness of solving conflicts with violence, the maximum loss
and
suffering on both sides and the protraction of the inevitable outcome.
The insurrection The Battle of Algiers describes was effectively quelled
through the leadership of the bold, methodical French Colonel Mathieu, who
as we see succeeds in eliminating the organizational structure of the
resistance, `triangle' by `triangle', using torture to ferret out names
and
locations of the autonomous `terrorists'/'partisans,' then killing the
`head' of the `worm' their structure represents so it can't `regenerate.'
Once this happens, after a merciless French campaign following a general
strike, the sympathizers in the majority Algerian population are totally
demoralized; but two years later a vigorous national independence movement
`suddenly,' `spontaneously,' springs forth, and not long afterward France
has to grant Algerian independence. It's at this point, rather than at the
moment of Mathieu's momentary triumph, that the film ends.
Gillo Pontecorvo undertook his masterpiece after prodding from the
resistance leader, Saadi Yacef, but he made a film equally sympathetic
toward and critical of both sides. We see as much of the French dissection
of the situation and repression of it (by the police chief, then Colonel
Mathieu) as we see of the `terrorists'/'partisans' planning and execution
of their actions. We see Colonel Mathieu as an appealing macho hero with
moments of noble fair play, a shades-wearing, cigarette puffing veteran
who
moves around with clarity, honesty, and panache; he himself has a
`partisan'
background. The `terrorist'/'rebel' leaders are serious, intensely
committed
men of various types, from the sophisticated intellectual to the young
firebrand. There are no `heroes' here; or, alternately, if you like,
they're
all `heroes.'
Mathieu appears before the press beside the captured `rebel'/'terrorist'
leader - an unusual move in itself - and expresses his respect for the
man's
courage and conviction. The `rebel' leader in this scene is eloquent in
defending `terrorist'/'rebellion' methods such as the use of baskets
filled
with explosives in public places. `Give us your bombs and we'll give you
our
baskets.' Mathieu for his part effectively explains to the journalists the
necessity of torture to short circuit the `rebellion'/'terrorism'. After
this explanation, the film, typically systematic at this point, begins
showing a series of tortures of Algerians being carried out.
The first image we see in the film is the shattered face and body of the
small, tortured Algerian man who's broken down and revealed where Ali `La
Pointe,' the firebrand, the last remaining leader, is hiding. Then we see
the `terrorist'/'terrorist' leader Ali and his closest supporters trapped
like deer in their hideaway, their faces soft and beautiful. The splendid
black and white photography works like William Klein's Fifties and Sixties
images (he's one of the key visual commentators of that period
stylistically) to powerfully capture the edgy soulfulness of the North
African people and their gritty Casbah milieu. Much of the film's power
comes from the way Pontecorvo was able to work, through Saadi Yacef,
directly in the Casbah among the real people - as Fernando Meirelles
worked
in the favelas of Brazil recently with local boys to forge the astonishing
City of God.
The voices, which are dubbed, as was the fixed Italian filmmaking style,
work somewhat less effectively because of obvious disconnects between
mouth
and sound at times, but the French is so analytical and the Algerians'
Arabic so exotic-sounding (even to a student of Arabic) that they work,
and
the insistent, exciting music composed by Pontecorvo himself in
collaboration with Ennio Morricone is a powerful element in the film's
relentless forward movement.
The fast rhythms of the editing are balanced by the stunning authenticity
of
the hundreds of Algerian extras who swarm across the screen: it's in the
crowd scenes that The Battle of Algiers really sings. There are many
superb
sequences of street fighting, of people massing at checkpoints, of the
French victims innocently assembled in public places; and like an
exhilarating coda there is the scene of joyous victory as Algerians
celebrate their independence in the last blurry moments. This is a film
(again, like City of God) of almost intoxicating -- and nauseating --
violence, complexity, and fervor. Pontecorvo's accomplishment, though, is
the way through showing the leaders analyzing and debating the action he
freezes any impulse toward partisanship in its tracks. The evenhandedness
of
the coverage works a Brechtian `Alienation Effect' so you don't get caught
up in rooting for one side or the other.
The sequence of three pretty Algerian women carrying out an operation is a
particularly memorable one -- but only one among many. First they take off
their burqas and cut their hair and doll themselves up French style and
then
they get past the checkpoint into the French quarter to leave handbags
full
of explosives in a bar, a dance club, and an airport lounge. Again
close-ups
of faces in the bar and the jive dancers with jaunty jabbing elbows in the
club show a brilliant use of image and classic editing: first the
innocent,
vulnerable faces, then the explosions. Here our sympathies for the French
victims are fully awakened. Another sequence of Algerians removing bodies
from a building has all the power and sadness of Christ's Passion.
There's no point where as in a conventional thriller we feel excitement
and
sympathy for the perpetrator, because we see the cruelty of the
perpetrator
and the humanity of the victim every time. The Battle of Algiers is a
final
triumphant use of Italian cinematic neorealismo. The killing is observed
neutrally, but with sadness, as part of a stupid game caused by ignorance
and played out compulsively when a political settlement would have been
infinitely better - a stupid game observed with astonishing zest.
Revived thirty-five years later in a new 35-mm. print, its grainy beauty
pristinely vivid, The Battle of Algiers remains a superbly made machine
that
plays out the addictive game of `terrorism,' repression, torture, revolt,
and full-fledged insurrection as effectively now as when it was first
issued. Like any classic, it's of its time and of all time. There's a
lesson
here, but it's not for partisans or colonialists: it's for all
people.
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