For Americans, history starts and ends with the Nazis. On the neoconservative right, every foreign policy crisis is Munich. On the progressive left, every repressive move by the United States government is 1933 and the Enabling Act. The French, who apparently still read books, have a 19th-century literary canon serves the same purpose as World War II does in the United States. It lays down a baseline narrative that lets contemporary artists tell new stories in historical settings everybody will recognize immediately. Montfermeil, a suburb of Paris 10 miles away from the Eiffel Tower, is famous as the location of the Thénardier inn in Victor Hugo’s 1500 page doorstop Les Misérables. Almost everybody has seen the musical, and the story is quite familiar. It ends with a riot, a riot it’s easy to mistake for the actual French Revolution, but which in reality is only the abortive rebellion of 1832, a rebellion that wound up going nowhere. In 2005, Montfermeil, which is now a poor African banlieu full of dilapidated high-rises, street vendors, flea markets, and petty drug gangs, had a series of riots very similar to the one portrayed in the novel. It did not, quite obviously, overthrow the French government, but it did effectively rip Montfermeil out of the French republic, and leave it marooned in its own liminal space, a miniature world inside of France, but not of France.
In 2019, Ladj Ly, who grew up in Montfermeil, and was a key player in the 2005 uprising, released Les Misérables, a film set in 2018 immediately following France’s victory in the World Cup. It tells the story of three police officers, Stéphane Ruiz, who has recently been transferred to Paris to be closer to his estranged wife and kid, Chris, a cocky racist who likes to throw his weight around the neighborhood, and hassle teenage girls, and Gwada a tall, first generation French citizen descended from Malian immigrants who grew up in the banlieu and might be said to stand in for Ladj Ly himself. Les Misérables is not a simplistic “fuck the police” movie. Ladj Ly’s view of the French police is suprisingly nuanced and intelligent. Stéphane, Chris, and Gwada are not straight up villains. They are not, however, heroes like Captain Furillo in Hill Street Blues or Paul Newman’s Murphy in Fort Apache the Bronx. They are more like burned out high-school teachers doing time until they can collect their pension, trying to make the best of a bad situation where they do not represent the authority of a legitimate, democratic government, but are simply one gang among many.
Montfermeil, in Ladj Ly’s imagination is like Bosnia or current day Syria, a failed state full of competing factions never quite breaking out into open conflict, but always threatening a many sided civil war. There are the police, who do their best to keep the peace, but are in way over there heads. There are the local drug dealers and organized criminals led by a man known as The Mayor, who is played by Steve Tientcheu. There is the Muslim Brotherhood, a Salafist organization led by Salah, who is played by Almamy Kanoute, who emerged from the 2005 as a mediator between the banlieu and the police. There is the Zefferelli Circus, owned by a heavily armed gang of gypsies led by a man named “Zorro.” Finally there are the local teenagers, aimless youth with little or no chance to work their way into the French middle-class, who spend all day having out in the neighborhood looking for trouble so they can brag about it later on social media. Two of them, Issa, who is rapidly on his way to becoming a juvenile delinquent and petty thief, and Buzz, a skinny, nerdy looking boy who uses a drone to spy on local girls through their windows, provoke the crisis central to the film’s plot.
As Chris and Gwada show Stéphane around the neighborhood on his first day on the job, Zorro and the Gypsies from the Zefferelli Circus hold The Mayor and his gang at gunpoint. The police manage to stop an immediate bloodbath, but the clock is ticking. Someone has stolen “Johnny” the baby lion cub from the circus. Since Zorro is convinced that either the Mayor was behind the crime, or can very quickly locate whoever it was, and since the Mayor barely has a clue what Zorro is even talking about, the situation is extraordinarily dangerous, with the police trying to play the role of United Nations peacekeepers, and Zorro and the Mayor as Alija Izetbegović and Radovan Karadzic ready to kick off the seige of Sarajevo. With the help of Salah and the Muslim brotherhood, Chris, Stéphane, and Gwada figure out that Issa, who has a long history of trouble with the police, probably has the lion cub, but when they corner him on the playground, they are attacked by a mob of local teenagers and can’t get him into the car to take him down to the station. Gwada is pepper sprayed in the face with his own cannister, and in his pain, confusion and anger, fires off a flash bang grenade that hits Issa in the face. Stéphane, who is the most intelligent and sensitive of the three policemen, wants to take the boy to the emergency room lest he die from traumatic brain injury or lose an eye, but Chris and Gwada don’t want to file a report. Finally they look overhead to notice that the entire incident had been recorded by the drone piloted by Buzz. Things have gone from bad, the theft of the lion cub, to worse, Issa being shot in the face and gravely wounded, to catastrophic, a video that if released publicly could send the entire banlieu up in flames, and send Chris, Stéphane, and Gwada to jail.
The police, who started out the day trying to do the right thing and keep the peace, are now involved in a coverup where they kidnap Issa and refuse him medical care, bully the Salah and The Mayor, desperately try to appease Zorro and the gypsies until they can get them what they want, and hunt down Buzz so they can destroy the evidence. What’s striking about the transformation is that there is no transformation. Christ, Stéphane, and Gwada barely change. They have gone from incompent burnouts to incompetent burnouts trying to cover up a crime. The clever script finsesses us so easily into their mindset that we end up rooting for them as they chase down the terrified Buzz, a boy so unimposing that he’s bullied by the local teenage girls he tries to spy on, and destroy his drone. While Buzz may not be a tough guy, however, he is clever enough to take the secure digital card and the recording of the video to Salah, who is the only man in the neighborhood who can protect him not only from the police, but from The Mayor and the local criminals. Indeed, Salafi Islam is portrayed in a remarkably positive light with Salah, the reformed criminal, seemingly the most reasonable man in Banlieu. While Chris and Gwada get nowhere with their threats and bullying, Stéphane, who has maintained his sanity throughout the day and has done his best to get Issa what medical care he can, plays the diplomat. He carefully explains to Salah that the release of the video could mean civil war and apocalpytic catastrophe, that while Chris is an asshole and a racist and Gwada an incompetant who lost his cool, that he will keep the memory card and the video in his possession for safekeeping as a way to keep his volitile colleagues under control. Should Chris and Gwada misbehave more, he will threaten to turn the video over to the prosecutor, and send them both to jail. Salah hands over the video and the crisis is seemingly averted. The coverup is successful.
Stéphane, however, does not take into account the effect that the now mutilated Issa will have on the local teenagers. His clumsy attempt to make Issa apologize to Zorro turns into a disaster when Zorro jokingly locks the boy in a case with one of his lions and threatens to have him killed. Issa, who has rather remarkably been transformed into a bitter looking old man, snaps, realizes that in French society he is merely a piece of meat to be eaten. The three police officers go home that night to their estranged faimilies. Chris bullies his own daughters the way he bullied three random girls early in the movie. Gwada goes to his Malian mother for comfort, confessing that he doesn’t think he’ll ever fit into French society. Stéphane tries to talk to his estranged wife and son. All three men have miserable home lives that both reflect their burnout and unhappiness on the job, and make them unable to do the job well. When they show up the next day, Issa and his friends are waiting. They launch a violent, well organized insurrection that drives The Mayor off the streets and traps the three terrified police officers in a stairwell. Stéphane, who had performed competently on his first day on the job, now surrenders his reason and better judgement, and becomes a carbon copy of Chris and Gwada, a violent burnout trapped in a burning stairwell, pointing his gun at a group of teenagers who have him cornered with Molotov cocktails. The movie ends with the standoff, but strongly hints that they will all most likely die a violent death together, the burned out police, and the violent, nihilistic teenagers.
Les Misérables is free on Amazon if you have an account and are willing to watch several long ads. In many ways this movie is a bridge between Mathieu Kassovitz’s classic La Haine and an earlier American movie about a nihlistic teenage uprising called Over the Edge, which as many people know was the inspiration for Nirvana’s iconic Smells Like Teen Spirit video. Over the Edge is available free on Tubi and is well worth watching. Les Misérables is not a polished technical masterpiece like La Haine or a revolutionary manifesto like Over the Edge, but it is a highly intelligent examination of a failed state brought down to the mico-level of a single banlieu. It is a complex, subtle examination of a social stalemate and the effect it has on the people living in an eternally liminal space with no chance of progressing out of it to the mainstream. Unlike Over the Edge, which is set in the relatively conservative United States, where violent revolution is always far off in the future or buried in the past and still feels like a romantic dream, Les Misérables is weary of rebellion and revolution. Buzz, Issa and their fellow teenagers are trapped inside the underclass, and while they rebel, the film makes clear that they are going to end up in exactly the same place where they started. Les Misérables is a striking portrait of a frozen society with no way out, a hellish trap brilliantly put on screen in the film’s last scene, where the only resolution seems to be a universal conflaturation that will destroy everything.

