Battle of Algiers might well be the best historical film ever. It stands out as a splendid work of art, as an extremely accurate depiction of a specific time and place, as a political hymn to independence, and as a thought-provoking philosophical reflection on violence, and on the relationship between ends and means.
It depicts the crucial years 1956-1957 in the Algerian war of independence from French colonial rule: the leaders of the independentist FLN decide to make Algiers a battlefield through strikes and terrorism in order to shake colonialism and to unite Algerians. The French respond to this urban guerilla with a ruthless control of space, separating European and Arab (the 'casbah') parts of the city, and with a brutal hunt of the FLN leaders through the torture of lesser militants. The French paratroops under gen. Massu, col. Bigeard and cdt. Aussaresses (blended in the film into a synthetic and fictitious character, col. Mathieu) eventually 'win' the battle of Algiers, but they end up 'losing' Algeria, as their repression has only fueled nationalism. The film therefore ends with the vision of Algerian crowds demanding independence ('Istiqlâl') as they march through the streets of Algiers in 1960.
While this is an accurate enough analysis of such a complex war (even though interestingly de Gaulle is absent from the film as it intends to show how independence was conquered, not handed from above by French authorities) it is also a metaphor, as the film works on many different levels.
It is a masterpiece of editing and cinematography. The combined use of space and music is stunning: when the french paratroops take possession of the Casbah, literally filling up the frame, gaining control of the streets, rooftops, hallways, courtyards, their superbly choreographed movements are underlined by a haunting theme by Morricone & director Pontecorvo. In these sequences he rivals not only Rossellini but Eisenstein.
It is also strongly influenced by the New Wave in its manner of filming faces of protagonists. Some of the most beautiful moments in the film (as the beginning in Ali's hiding hole, or the scenes before the explosions in the bars) consist of protagonists' faces, victims, perpetrators, bystanders, shot in close up, in a beautiful black and white, without comment or voice-over: their common humanity is shown as well as the determination, the inner flame of those fighting for independence.
I would disagree with other reviewers saying the movie is is unbiased: the film was commissioned and encouraged by the new-born Algerian state, and Yacef Saadi, a leader in the war of independence appears in prominent role. While the violence of both sides is coolly examined, the film justifies that of the Algerians, if only by showing (in a slightly dishonest way) that it always responds to the violence of the French. This question of precedence (who started to be inhuman?), though in the end quite pointless, has long poisoned mutual understanding between French and Algerian memories of the war. Another bias, explained by the FLN financing and staging, is the almost complete absence in the film of the middle ground, those neither in the terrorist FLN or in the paratroops, desiring to live in peace. They have existed, in both sides, as the examples of writer Albert Camus and his friend Mouloud Ferraoun show. This is quite understandable as it might not fit in the epic text depicted in realistic manner by Pontecorvo. However, in the film, the Algerians that are not committed to war are shown to be gangsters and pimps: this is a minor flaw of the film and its only touch of propaganda.
All that said, the film is a stunning visual, historical and ethical masterpiece. Sadly and ironically, it capture a fiery desire for liberty at the very time (1965) a military coup by Boumediene overthrew Ben Bella in Algeria, repressing liberties for the decades to come. Most of all, it is one of the most potent depictions of and reflections on violence (in the twin and extreme forms of terrorism and torture) to be seen on screen.
The most powerful image of the film remains the vision of a FLN militant broken by torture and forced to confess the hiding place of his chief. His haunted look, exhausted stance, empty eyes, grotesquely dressed in a paratroops' uniform, stand as an indictment of colonialism.
It depicts the crucial years 1956-1957 in the Algerian war of independence from French colonial rule: the leaders of the independentist FLN decide to make Algiers a battlefield through strikes and terrorism in order to shake colonialism and to unite Algerians. The French respond to this urban guerilla with a ruthless control of space, separating European and Arab (the 'casbah') parts of the city, and with a brutal hunt of the FLN leaders through the torture of lesser militants. The French paratroops under gen. Massu, col. Bigeard and cdt. Aussaresses (blended in the film into a synthetic and fictitious character, col. Mathieu) eventually 'win' the battle of Algiers, but they end up 'losing' Algeria, as their repression has only fueled nationalism. The film therefore ends with the vision of Algerian crowds demanding independence ('Istiqlâl') as they march through the streets of Algiers in 1960.
While this is an accurate enough analysis of such a complex war (even though interestingly de Gaulle is absent from the film as it intends to show how independence was conquered, not handed from above by French authorities) it is also a metaphor, as the film works on many different levels.
It is a masterpiece of editing and cinematography. The combined use of space and music is stunning: when the french paratroops take possession of the Casbah, literally filling up the frame, gaining control of the streets, rooftops, hallways, courtyards, their superbly choreographed movements are underlined by a haunting theme by Morricone & director Pontecorvo. In these sequences he rivals not only Rossellini but Eisenstein.
It is also strongly influenced by the New Wave in its manner of filming faces of protagonists. Some of the most beautiful moments in the film (as the beginning in Ali's hiding hole, or the scenes before the explosions in the bars) consist of protagonists' faces, victims, perpetrators, bystanders, shot in close up, in a beautiful black and white, without comment or voice-over: their common humanity is shown as well as the determination, the inner flame of those fighting for independence.
I would disagree with other reviewers saying the movie is is unbiased: the film was commissioned and encouraged by the new-born Algerian state, and Yacef Saadi, a leader in the war of independence appears in prominent role. While the violence of both sides is coolly examined, the film justifies that of the Algerians, if only by showing (in a slightly dishonest way) that it always responds to the violence of the French. This question of precedence (who started to be inhuman?), though in the end quite pointless, has long poisoned mutual understanding between French and Algerian memories of the war. Another bias, explained by the FLN financing and staging, is the almost complete absence in the film of the middle ground, those neither in the terrorist FLN or in the paratroops, desiring to live in peace. They have existed, in both sides, as the examples of writer Albert Camus and his friend Mouloud Ferraoun show. This is quite understandable as it might not fit in the epic text depicted in realistic manner by Pontecorvo. However, in the film, the Algerians that are not committed to war are shown to be gangsters and pimps: this is a minor flaw of the film and its only touch of propaganda.
All that said, the film is a stunning visual, historical and ethical masterpiece. Sadly and ironically, it capture a fiery desire for liberty at the very time (1965) a military coup by Boumediene overthrew Ben Bella in Algeria, repressing liberties for the decades to come. Most of all, it is one of the most potent depictions of and reflections on violence (in the twin and extreme forms of terrorism and torture) to be seen on screen.
The most powerful image of the film remains the vision of a FLN militant broken by torture and forced to confess the hiding place of his chief. His haunted look, exhausted stance, empty eyes, grotesquely dressed in a paratroops' uniform, stand as an indictment of colonialism.