intervention in Uruguay in the 1960s and 1970s. In doing so, the Greek-French film director forces the audience to reflect on the use of torture as a means of getting crucial information from members of guerrilla groups to guarantee success in counter-insurgency operations, and to question the effectiveness of violence as a means of advancing a political cause.
In order to understand the circumstances that surrounded Daniel Anthony Mitrione's kidnapping and assassination in 1970, and the recreation of these events in Costa-Gavras's film, it is useful to provide a
terms of their activist politics, Portillo’s films and videos are
part of the Latin American film movement dedicated to an insurgent,
aesthetic/political project that Fernando Birri once called the
‘poetics of transformation of reality’.
During the final years of the military dictatorship in
Argentina, Portillo and Susana Muñoz started working on Las
Madres: The Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo and, later
In terms of the so-called 'clash of civilisations' after '9/11', Islamic states such as Algeria have too often been perceived in the West as 'other' and hence as threatening. This book, via an analysis of cinema, provides a discussion on some misunderstandings and assumptions about Algeria, which remains to a large extent underrepresented or misrepresented in the UK media. It is about Algerian national cinema and illuminates the ways in which the official mythologising of a national culture at the 'centre' of the postcolonial state has marginalised the diverse identities within the nation. Tahia ya didou occupies a pivotal position between fiction and documentary, capturing the hectic modernization of the Boumediene era while reflecting back on the aftermath of historical trauma. La Citadelle presents gender differences as culturally engrained and patriarchal power as secure. Youcef, Bab El-Oued City and Rome plutôt que vous present differing visions of how a Freudian melancholia in the shadow of a crushed revolt might relate to Algerian experience after Black October. Lettre à ma soeur listens to the voices of the subaltern; the film is a sense of re-emergence that follows the initial insurgency of Nabila's activism, the trauma of her killing and the subsequent years of silence and self-imposed incarceration.
state nationalism’ whereby,
‘Unable to achieve representation in the language of the state, it
nonetheless interrupts through insurgency, through representational
breakdown, through a critical agency always in search of justice’ (Khanna 2008 : 60, 59). Michael
Rothberg sees memory as the crucial means whereby this can be achieved:
‘When the state instrumentalizes the law of mourning, claims of
justice must emerge from
with the theorisation of an Algerian future in
Ranjana Khanna’s work. For Khanna, influenced in particular by Antonio
Gramsci and Jacques Derrida, Algeria is a test case, where the sovereignty
of the neo-colonial, postcolonial state can only be contested or resisted
(‘cut’ in Khanna’s terms) by the insurgency of the
subaltern. A future for Algeria might therefore be found in moments of
resistance, in a critical agency that
Who , we must tell Other stories, stories of dissent and opposition to Empire. In
Insurgent Empire , Gopal documents such narratives, focusing on how resistance in the
periphery helped radicalize the metropole, how insurgent acts abroad hastened the demise of
the British imperial project ( 2019b ). From India and Jamaica to Egypt
and Kenya, ideas of freedom, independence, and self-determination were at the core of these
anti-colonial movements. Gopal suggests that telling such stories disrupts the
insurgency and revolution in French-colonised Indochina in the 1930s, and
the subsequent dismantling of French colonial authority (Indochine);
the survival of French identity, traditions and citizens under the German
occupation 1940–1944 (Le Dernier Métro). These films
served to reconfigure the nature of Deneuve’s screen image, and
created the circumstances by which more immediately accessible and readily
exportable notions of
-debated conclusion to her article ‘Can the
Subaltern Speak?’ was that the gendered subaltern subject could not,
at least in so far as ‘speaking’ implied escaping from the
overarching discourses of colonial or indigenous patriarchal males, and the
relevance of the silencing of the subaltern female to this film hardly needs
to be stated. One kind of ‘speaking’, one mode of escape, might
then be an insurgent discourse like that of the unnamed
American dictators. The main character, played by Yves Montand, is an unsympathetic functionary of a US counter-insurgency agency, who is taken captive by the guerrillas and, unrepentant, eventually executed. This is presented as well deserved, though the viewer derives no emotional pleasure from it. The film ends with the arrival of his replacement, who is met with hatred from a public sympathetic to the Tupamaro insurgents.
State of Siege enjoyed an immensely successful run in France and in Europe more generally, but its release in the United States after a
pioneer of British counter-insurgency measures and psychological operations.
This taught opening scene links the leisured lifestyle of the upper classes to conservative politics, particularly outmoded imperialist sympathies. Cavendish's right-wing views are confirmed soon after the arrival of a stranger, Daniel Young, who claims to be a graduate student doing a thesis on Cavendish, who one learns is a renowned writer of children's books and a former Cambridge don.
Like the heroine of Coleridge