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(Bloom 2006: 140). Adrian Fielder argues in Deleuzian terms that banlieue films like Mathieu Kassovitz’s La Haine/ Hate (1995) appear to be ‘advocating a (tactical) performative mode of inhabiting the city, through which emergent urban subcultures might attempt – even within the most striated of state-regulated spaces – to constitute an urban body nomadism’ (Fielder 2001: 280). Like La Faute à Voltaire, L’Esquive takes further this process of reinventing social space by making it directly textual and part of the mainstream itself by combining popular and ‘high’ culture
later by the then Minister of the Interior, Nicolas Sarkozy, to vilify rioting youth in the suburbs of Paris – the residents of District 13 are expendable. Notwithstanding this modicum of political comment, it would be a mistake to align Banlieue 13 with other films depicting urban crisis in France such as La Haine (Hate, Mathieu Kassovitz, 1995), Le Thé au Harem d’Archi Ahmed (Tea in the Harem, Mehdi Charef, 1985) or L.627 (Bertrand Tavernier, 1992). Rather it asks to be viewed differently, as a cinematic spectacle foregrounding a new form of cultural expression. ‘Le
the police, in round-ups (rodéos) that end in predictable tragedy for the book’s protagonists. Charef’s early Beur novel, however, does point out the “in-between” status of children like Majid, who are neither French nor Algerian. It makes a strong connection between social and economic exclusion and urban violence. The 1995 fiction film La Haine, presented in a documentary style by director Mathieu Kassovitz, makes a similar point by following a day in the lives of Saïd, Vincent and Hubert, three young residents of a dilapidated housing project outside Paris. Saïd
banlieues, a group that added young Algerians fleeing the civil war in Algeria to the mix in the banlieues. Silverstein sees in this new generation as the dystopian counterparts of their utopian predecessors, substituting a culture of hate and rioting for organization and marches. They created a an inward-looking culture of neighbourhood gangs, rodéos and daily violence. Mathieu Kassovitz’s film La Haine (1995) portrays the anger and sense of abandonment that minority youth in the cités felt. At this time a transnational filiation with Islamic and Algerian groups also
aimed at bearing witness to experiences that would otherwise vanish without a trace. François Périer provides the general voice-over for the film. Mathieu Kassovitz lends his voice to the French translation of interviews with the Bosnian men and Catherine Belkhodja does likewise for the women. Interspersed throughout are interviews with Théo Robichet (credited frequently as part of the earlier SLON team) who comments
resistance fighter. He took from anyone who would give, and he behaved throughout this period of his career like a calculating man on the make’ (Rousso 1991 : 181). In Un héros Dehousse (Mathieu Kassovitz) experiences moments of drama, comedy and excruciating embarrassment during his rise from obscurity to the status of Resistance hero. Where doubt was cast in some minds as to the ideological purity of those who joined the
screen, and usually not heard speaking, is recalled by an unusual 8-second scene as Amélie returns from her father’s via the Gare du Nord with his stolen garden gnome and hurriedly walks down the platform as three young men – who appear to be of black or mixed race heritage – follow her. This multi-ethnic trio, coupled with Jeunet’s casting of Mathieu Kassovitz as Nino, might obliquely recall scenes from La Haine (1995), which Kassovitz himself directed. As Ezra (2008: 87) notes, however, La Haine is ‘the antithesis of Amélie in its unrelenting depiction of a Paris