Film Review: The Battle of Algiers (La battaglia di Algeri, 1966)

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The enduring greatness of cinematic classics often stems from their ability to transcend mere entertainment, but few films achieve such distinction as Gillo Pontecorvo’s The Battle of Algiers. This 1966 political docudrama, renowned for its meticulous reconstruction of the Algerian War of Independence, occupies a unique space in cultural and military history. Its unflinching, documentary-like portrayal of urban guerrilla warfare and counterinsurgency tactics proved so instructive that it was later adopted as a training tool by both revolutionary groups—such as the Black Panthers and the Provisional IRA—and counterinsurgency forces, including U.S. military strategists during the Iraq War. This duality underscores the film’s power: its objective, almost clinical style renders it a masterclass in tactical analysis, while its moral complexity ensures it remains a potent commentary on the cyclical violence of colonialism and resistance.

The film is rooted in the memoir Souvenirs de la Bataille d’Alger (1962), written by Saadi Yacef, a founding member of the National Liberation Front (FLN) and key figure in Algeria’s fight for independence. Imprisoned by French authorities during the war, Yacef began drafting his account in captivity, completing it after Algeria’s liberation in 1962. His memoir provided Pontecorvo with a firsthand blueprint of the FLN’s strategies. Yacef’s involvement in the film was not merely literary: he reenacted his own experiences as El-Hadi Jafar, a fictionalised protagonist. However, his role is secondary to the narrative’s broader focus on the collective struggle, reflecting the FLN’s emphasis on collective action over individual heroism.

The film’s true protagonist is Ali La Pointe (Brahim Haggiag), a petty criminal turned FLN militant. The narrative opens in October 1957 with him being surrounded by French paratroopers during a siege in the Casbah, then flashes back to 1954 to trace his radicalization. A petty criminal in colonial Algiers, La Pointe’s pivotal moment comes when he flees police into the European quarter, where he is brutalized by French youths. Witnessing the public execution of an FLN member further galvanizes him, leading him to join the FLN. After enduring a grueling loyalty test he becomes a key operative, spearheading efforts to purge the Casbah of vice and launching attacks on French police. Yet the FLN’s early successes force the French military into a desperate, indiscriminate retaliation against Algerian civilians, radicalizing even more recruits. When Colonel Philippe Mathieu (Jean Martin) arrives with elite paratroopers, his systematic use of torture and intelligence dismantles the FLN’s infrastructure. The colonel’s victory is Pyrrhic, however: the film’s 1960 epilogue reveals that Algerian public sentiment has been so inflamed that independence is inevitable, even without the FLN’s leadership.

Gillo Pontecorvo, a Marxist filmmaker and veteran of the Italian Resistance, brought a radical sensibility to The Battle of Algiers. The 1960s and 1970s saw a surge in politically charged European cinema, and Pontecorvo’s work stood out for its fusion of activism and artistry. The film’s authenticity was bolstered by Algerian government support, which provided thousands of non-professional extras, military equipment, and access to the Casbah itself. This commitment to realism aligned with Pontecorvo’s neorealist roots, a movement that prioritized raw, unpolished aesthetics over studio fabrication. His choice to cast virtually unknown actors—save for Jean Martin—immersed the story in authenticity. Brahim Haggiag, playing La Pointe, brought a raw intensity to his role, his untrained performance amplified by Pontecorvo’s use of close-ups to convey inner turmoil.

While unambiguously sympathetic to the FLN’s cause, The Battle of Algiers avoids simplistic moral binaries. Both sides are depicted committing atrocities: the FLN’s shift to targeting civilians (most shockingly, the bombing of a café) is juxtaposed with the French military’s systematic torture and extrajudicial killings. Colonel Mathieu, a chillingly efficient antagonist, presented as veteran of WW2 resistance, embodies the paradox of colonial “civilizing” missions: his justification of torture during a press conference echoes the rhetoric of his Nazi adversaries. Yet Mathieu’s tactical brilliance is undeniable; his methods break the FLN’s networks but alienate public opinion, ensuring that France’s military victory cannot translate into political legitimacy.

Pontecorvo’s stylistic choices amplify the film’s themes. Shot in stark black-and-white, the film evokes the grainy urgency of newsreels, blurring the line between fiction and documentary. The handheld camera work and natural lighting immerse viewers in the chaotic streets of Algiers, while the rhythmic editing mirrors the escalating tension of urban warfare. Ennio Morricone’s score adds emotional weight without sentimentalizing the violence. The soundtrack’s occasional melodrama in torture scenes is a minor flaw, but the film’s pacing remains relentless, its two-hour runtime feeling condensed by its urgency.

The film’s critical acclaim was swift and resounding. It won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival and was hailed as a landmark of political cinema. Even in France, where the war’s memory remained raw, the film’s unflinching portrayal of colonial atrocities led to a years-long ban. Yet its themes proved timeless. The film’s universal exploration of resistance and oppression ensured its relevance long after Algeria’s independence. Its resurgence in the post-9/11 era, as Western nations grappled with counterinsurgency in Middle East, cemented its status as a prophetic text on the ethics of violence.

The Battle of Algiers is not merely as a historical document but as a philosophical inquiry into the cost of liberation. Pontecorvo’s refusal to sanitise either side’s brutality forces audiences to confront the grim realities of armed struggle: the FLN’s moral compromises and the coloniser’s dehumanizing tactics are intertwined in a cycle of retaliation. The film’s legacy lies in its ability to serve as both a manual for revolutionaries and a cautionary tale for occupiers—a duality that ensures its relevance across generations. In its unyielding gaze at the human toll of war, The Battle of Algiers remains a masterpiece of political cinema, challenging viewers to ask not just how revolutions are fought, but what they demand of those who wage them.

RATING: 8/10 (+++)

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