Hate (La Haine)

John Hartl

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Larry Clark's Kids and Mathieu Kassovitz's Hate, two rough street movies about what's the matter with kids today, arrived simultaneously at the Cannes Film Festival last spring.

Kids suffered from the kind of sensational publicity buildup that few movies can survive. The less heavily promoted Hate made a stronger impression, winning the best director prize for Kassovitz. Now that the dust has settled, however, they seem equally showy and superficial.

Hate takes place in a modern Parisian ghetto, where a riot breaks out between the police and several angry young men, including an Arab boy who is arrested, brutally beaten and sent to a hospital, where he will most likely die. His three friends - Jewish Vinz (Vincent Cassel), black Hubert (Hubert Kounde) and another Arab, Said (Said Taghmaoui) - spend the next 24 hours dealing with their frustration and anger over what they regard as a racially motivated atrocity.

"An Arab in a police station doesn't last an hour," says one.

One of the cops lost a revolver during the riot, and once the gun gets into the boys' hands it's the cause of endless threats and macho declarations. "The world is yours," declares a billboard with heavy irony. The "yours" is quickly changed to "ours."

The treatment of the gun tells us something, though never quite enough, about the differences between the three boys. Hubert is the relatively reasonable one, Vinz the tiresome hothead, Said the in-betweener, and the actors playing them do little more than suggest one trait apiece.

Filmed in ostentatiously "real" black and white, Hate rarely delves beneath its slick cinema-verite style, which includes a complex zoom shot that recalls the elaborate disorienting effects in Jaws and Vertigo. Perhaps if the brutalized Arab boy had been established as something more than a victim, his friends' concerns might have seemed as important as the hopped-up camerawork.

The most interesting aspect of Hate is the boyz-n-the-hood treatment of a depressed, hellish Paris we rarely see in other French films. It's often alarmingly close to American movies about gangs and prejudiced lawmen and kids with too much time on their hands.

One confrontation between the boys and a policeman is so familiar it begins to suggest the lead-in to "Gee, Officer Krupke" from West Side Story. One character wears a sweatshirt that reads "Elvis shot JFK." Another attacks the racial-minority status of an Asian grocer. Another claims "my name's not Rodney King." Edith Piaf may be heard singing in the background, and the kids may be speaking another language, but there's something depressingly universal about this scenario.

In Kassovitz's first film, 1993's Cafe au Lait, he played the leading role: a Jewish bike messenger who explodes when he discovers that his pregnant West Indian girlfriend has been sleeping with a sophisticated Muslim. It was so cute Disney might have remade it as "Two Men and a Baby."

Disney probably won't be remaking Hate, but it suffers from a similar inability to take its characters seriously enough to give them three dimensions.

From Film.com

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