Film Review
Considering its long-lasting political impact and the deep scars it
left on a generation of French people, it seems extraordinary that, for
forty years, the Algerian War has been almost completely overlooked by
French cinema. Just as successive French governments refused to
acknowledge the Algerian situation as a war (it wasn't until 1999 that
the term was officially sanctioned), so French filmmakers have shown a
similar reticence when it comes to commenting on their country's
traumatic period of decolonisation. Should we be surprised
that the most significant film on the Algerian War,
The Battle of Algiers (1966),
was made by an Italian, Gillo Pontecorvo? Those few French film
directors who dared to tackle the subject soon found their efforts
compromised by those in high places. Jean-Luc Godard's
Le
Petit soldat (1963) was originally banned by the censors,
René Vautier was only granted a distribution visa for
Avoir 20 ans dans les Aurès
(1972) after he went on hunger strike and Yves Boisset was relentlessly
opposed by the French military when he made
R.A.S. (1973). The Algerian
War was evidently a no-go area for anyone holding a French passport and a clapperboard.
Compare this with the situation in America following the Vietnam War,
where filmmakers were lining up to record for posterity their
impressions of an ill-judged and badly prosecuted conflict, most
notably Michael Cimino (
The Deer Hunter, 1978), Francis
Ford Coppola (
Apocalypse Now, 1979), Oliver
Stone (
Platoon, 1986), Stanley
Kubrick (
Full Metal Jacket,
1987) and John Irvin (
Hamburger Hill,
1987). By contrast, Algeria was the war that the French appeared eager to
forget.
Now, almost half a century on, the Algerian War no longer appears to be a taboo subject.
As France basks in a resurgence of anti-war sentiment
in the wake of the West's latest military
escapades in the Middle East (which show some uncomfortable parallels
with the Algerian conflict), the current crop of French filmmakers
appear to be fixated on the so-called Nameless War. After Philippe Faucon's
La Trahison (2005) and Laurent
Herbiet's
Mon Colonel (2006) comes
L'Ennemi intime, a full-bodied action
war movie which makes Lewis Milestone's
All Quiet on the Western Front
(1931) look like a brawl in a toddler's playpen. This starkly
authentic account of battle operations in the mountains of Kabylia is
directed with flair, and a whiff of sadistic relish, by Florent Emilio
Siri, who had previously distinguished himself with his darkly visceral
thrillers
Nid de guêpes (2002) and
Hostage (2005). Siri
developed the screenplay, his most intelligent to date, with Patrick
Rotman, an eminent writer and documentary filmmaker who had previously
collaborated with Bertrand Tavernier on his Algerian War piece,
La Guerre sans nom (1992).
The most gruellingly realistic war film that has been made in France to
date,
L'Ennemi intime offers
not only an uncompromising visual testimony of the naked horrors of
warfare but also its terrible longer term consequences. The
film's most potent anti-war sentiment emerges from its portrayal of how
the experience of war can change a man's nature, transforming him from
a compassionate and rational being into an inhuman savage, murdering
without compunction and desensitised to the carnage and the destruction
that surrounds him. Siri employs, to great effect, many of the
stylistic devices that Steven Spielberg used on his groundbreaking war
film
Saving Private Ryan (1998) -
de-saturated colour photography, erratic camera motion and rough, faux
documentary-style editing - to give the film a dated newsreel look (to
set it in its historical context) and to heighten the subjective
experience of watching it. The battle sequences are particularly
well realised but are an ordeal to sit through, so vividly do they
convey the sheer horror and brutality of modern warfare. This is
a film that unapologetically reminds us what war really is - not a
game, but a mindless orgy of destruction, in which flesh is ripped from
the bone and young lives are snuffed out in an adrenalin-fuelled
whirlwind of fear, pain and incomprehension.
It is an impressive piece, one that leaves a deep and lasting
impression, but the one area where it does fall down is in its
characterisation. So preoccupied is Siri with confronting us with
the visual horrors of war that he neglects to show us, in a convincing
manner, the impact that the unremitting exposure to death and barbarism
is having on his characters. Benoît Magimel's gradual
transformation from idealistic good guy to battle-hardened guntoter is
too unsubtle and demonstrative to have any impact - it is hard to
sympathise with a character that is being propelled down such an
obvious plot trajectory. By contrast, Albert Dupontel's portrayal
is far more credible and does show how war can disfigure a man's
personality, stripping away his humanity and making him a slave to his
primal instincts. The later scenes, in which the intense inner
trauma of Dupontel's character comes to the surface, are the most
poignant, providing as powerful an anti-war comment as the innumerable
scenes of blood-drenched carnage that preceded it.
If all of the characters in this film had been written and
played as convincingly as Dupontel's it could have been one of the greatest of all war films.
Whilst it does occasionally struggle to get beyond the
superficial,
L'Ennemi intime
does ultimately deliver one Hell of a punch. Without ever
appearing gratuitous in its depiction of violence, the film shows us
just how destructive a bullet can be, and how unspeakably vicious those
on both sides of the conflict can be in pursuit of their aims.
Torture, mutilation, mass execution - no atrocity is spared when one
tribe takes up arms against another. We are also reminded of the
terrible irony of the conflict, namely that many of the Algerians who
were fighting for independence had only a few years previously fought
alongside France and her allies in the Second World War. The
most gruesome sight offered by the film is the sequence in which the French soldiers
inspect the charred remains of their opponents' bodies after a
napalm bombing. This is the true face of war - ugly beyond
belief, staring out at us and demanding why human beings cannot resolve
their differences in some other way. Maybe this is why French
filmmakers have been so reluctant to tackle the Algerian War. How
could France ever own up to having perpetrated the kind of horrors that
we see here, the work of the barbarian at his worst, the most obscene
affront to civilisation? How much easier to close your eyes and pretend
it never happened.
© James Travers 2011
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Next Florent-Emilio Siri film:
Cloclo (2012)