“It’s not the fall that kills, but the way you land.”—Hubert’s philosophical metaphor of falling is emotionally applied to survival in the projects in 1995’s La Haine.
La Haine (translated Hate) prologues with actual news footage of rioting in the suburban projects of Paris. Parked cars are lit aflame and buildings trashed as a female news anchor reports on the riots. After a teen was severely beaten by police while handcuffed in their custody, the projects erupted with a wave of violence and looting. The victim, a minority, was left in critical condition, the reporter notes and suddenly, the TV set shuts off—the audience is in for a radically different telling of the situation. The film then opens on Saïd, an Arabian man in his twenties, facing off before a line of policemen in riot gear. The camera slowly moves down the line of the stoic squadron, each face a white copy of the last. At the end of the vilified line, Saïd stealthily spray paints the back of their police van. "Fuck the police," he writes, and then runs away through the projects.
La Haine, written and directed by Mathieu Kassovitz, follows three young minorities through the course of a day as they survive life in the projects of suburban Paris. Saïd (played by Saïd Taghmaoui) is the wiliest of the group with a loud mouth and free-spirited swagger. Vinz, a Jew (played by a young Vincent Cassel), is the more angry and volatile personality with something to prove. Hubert, an African boxer (played by Hubert Kounde), is the wisest and more pensive of the trio with high ambitions. In the wake of the recent police beating and subsequent rioting, the three wander throughout the projects, interacting with various colorful characters, including, much to the trio's chagrin, the ever-present police. The trio's bond, at once volatile and assured, is displayed in subtle detail as they enter their different contexts. Through these, the audience gets to know these well-rounded and intricate characters. Even as the three men relentlessly mock and harass each other (as men tend to do), there lies a foundational understanding and trust between them. They are, in essence, brothers. Worn and matured by their environment, a hardened cynical outlook belies their boyish shenanigans. The film's timeline, broken up into chapters titled by the current time of day, creates an ominous feeling that the film is indeed headed towards something significant. This tension is further heightened when Vinz reveals a handgun he found on the street. His previous vow to kill a cop if the beating victim dies is taken more seriously as the film builds to an explosive and perhaps inevitable climax.
The last decades haven’t been that great for real-life political radicalism, but in the movies it’s been extraordinary: Baader Meinhof Complex, Munich, Che, the cartoonish Eight Miles High, and now, Olivier Assayas’s extraordinary bio Carlos (epic is an understatement). Not since the glory days of 
