Paris Burns, But Who is Watching? The Spectacle of Rage in La Haine
While it isn’t obvious at first, La Haine tells you exactly what it is about in its first line: a man falling off a skyscraper and those seemingly insignificant moments before he hits the ground. La Haine is a film centered on rage. It doesn’t moralize, nor is it particularly interested in whether or not rage is ethically justified. What use is there in debating the logic of whether the falling man is allowed to take out a few windows on his way down? Instead, it treats rage as a reaction and asks us not only why we feel it, but what we do with it?
Our three protagonists find themselves in the aftermath of riots caused by the beating of their friend by a police officer, all expressing different manifestations of rage as a result. Vinz lives by a doctrine of reckless and performative fury, eager to use a gun stolen from a police officer the night before on anyone in his way. Meanwhile, Hubert lies on the weary side, feeling the same anger towards the world but electing to stay quiet, understanding the practical consequences of destruction. Saïd stands somewhere in the middle, confused and unable to figure out where to direct his anger.
What is the spectacle of rage? Throughout the film, rage and violence provide an outlet through which these friends, living in impoverished Parisian banlieues, can feel some kind of power. It is in inciting fear and frustration in others, even members of their own community, that they are able to escape the feeling of helplessness as their friend lies in a hospital doomed to die. In one scene, a friend of the three complains that someone destroyed his car in the riots, prompting the three to laugh and say that there are more important things to worry about. In another, they stumble across Hubert’s own boxing gym, destroyed in the riots, but he reacts calmly, saying that he knew it’d go up in smoke one day. Saïd asks why he’d buy it if he knew that, and Vinz simply says “‘Cause he wanted to, dickface.” For them, destruction and rage is a way of life that has consumed them and the community around them. Extreme disenfranchisement has bred a lifestyle of temporary pleasures that are ultimately always destroyed, if not by rage, then by the police and the system itself.
La Haine has a defining moment about halfway through, wherein the three become stuck in the center of Paris, far from the suburbs they know well. The cinematography distinctly changes with a dolly zoom, as we go from wide shots where we can see everything to tight, claustrophobic shots, representing a part of the city that they don’t belong in. In the center, they encounter Parisian high society, a community that, frankly, sees them as vermin. In one scene, after being beaten by police, they enter a museum. While they are looked upon poorly by some, in other ways, they are given a chance. Staff members hand them drinks and they even strike up a conversation with two other attendees; however, the irreconcilable gap between their anger and disdain for the world ends with them causing a scene entirely of their own volition, being thrown out as the head of the exhibits shrugs and says “troubled youth.” It is through this encounter, among others, that they realize that their rage alone is not always subversive, but instead isolating. Perhaps, screaming as you fall from the top of the building is more painful than accepting your fate.
Near the end of the film, sitting alone in an empty mall, the three see a news report that their friend has died. They, once again, wander into the street, this time filled with a deeper emotion, a still-present rage set against a backdrop of grief and melancholy. Upon being attacked by skinheads, Vinz is given the perfect opportunity to fire the gun and release his rage, but, seemingly tired of playing into the spectacle of rage, lets the attacker go. Hours later, upon returning to the suburbs they call home, Vinz gives the gun to Hubert in an act of growth, setting aside his rage, not for anyone else, but for his own peace of mind. Soon after, Vinz is apprehended by a police officer who proceeds to accidentally discharge his pistol while pointing it at Vinz, killing him instantly. In the final scene, Hubert holds the gun to the police officer, as he does the same, and the screen cuts to black before we hear a gunshot.
One may be led to believe that, with all the pain that the film attributes to rage-induced violence, that Hubert’s character is put on a pedestal; however, the ending shows this isn’t the case. The film could’ve provided catharsis, a final confirmation that stoic peace is the ideal way to deal with an unfair world, but it doesn’t. Even though Vinz chose not to act on his rage and pride, the message the film had seemingly been sending him all along, he was tossed aside regardless. Throughout the film, both the characters and the audience are forced to wrestle with our complicity in the cycle of violence, but in the end, we still fall hard on the ground.
La Haine is not a call to arms, nor is it a call to inaction. It is a mirror to the inevitability of rage in our world, asking the audience to question the very spectacle of rage that we engage with every day. Why do we love to watch rage unfold but feel so powerless to change the society causing it? Are we more drawn to the spectacle than the underlying conditions that cause it? In truth, the real tragedy of La Haine is not the violence or the rage, it’s the fact that nothing changes, and we are left asking: what did we expect?