Liberty, guilt and morality in The Battle of Algiers

Watching Michael Haneke’s Hidden / Cache (2005), a film that deftly probes the guilt of France’s bloody colonial past, I was reminded of the power of Gillo Pontecorvo’s 1966 masterpiece The Battle of Algiers.  The film portrays the brutal real-life struggle for liberty between the French colonial government and the indigenous Algerian National Liberation Front (FNL) that raged in the capital city of French Algeria between 1954 and 1962 when Algeria won independence.


The conflict between Algerians who were politically and economically marginalized by the French and French Pied-Noirs (settlers) was characterised by savage violence - against both civilians and military personnel - culminating in terrorism and eventually the systematic use of torture by the French authorities to break the infrastructure FNL. In 1957 alone, the FLN carried out dozens of shootings and bombings a month and organised a general strike to draw international attention to their struggle. The French authorities, buoyed by the failure of the UN to reach a decision on the Algerian question, responded with a harsh crackdown, sealed off the Casbah (Muslim quarter) in Algiers and established checkpoints to control the movements of Algerians around the European quarter.

Pontecorvo chose to retell these events using black and white film with a cast of non-professional actors - many of whom had experienced the conflict first-hand. This lends The Battle of Algiers a documentary, newsreel footage feel that enhances its sense of accuracy and authenticity. The film is so naturalistic that, to avoid confusion, Pontecorvo was forced to stipulate clearly that no actual newsreel footage was used in the film. A second element of the visual authenticity is the use of location as an important storytelling device. The Casbah becomes synonymous with the FNL and Algerian resistance. It is a claustrophobic, crowded, dark labyrinth of alleyways which forms a stark contrast to the wide streets and cafes of the prosperous European Quarter. These two areas are sharply demarcated; culturally, linguistically and politically separate. In the Casbah, Arabic is spoken, prayers can be heard and symbols of western influence - alcohol, gambling and prostitutes with bleached blonde hair are deeply resented.  Ennio Morricone’s masterful, poignant soundtrack also shapes the two spaces; thunderous, percussive sounds using traditional drums punctuated with women’s ululation mark out the indigenous Algerian territories while an militaristic orchestral score and the sound of motorcars and gunfire signal the French. There can be no doubt that this visual authenticity feeds into a sense of spectacular narrative authenticity - Pontecorvo seems to dispassionately deliver the unembellished truth while in actual fact, provoking the audience into an emotional response. It is a clever construction; confronting the audience with an Anti-Imperialist perspective while sustaining a feeling of objectivity.  

"In just one scene, Pontecorvo offers a damning critique of the crude racism that fuels the French regime in Algiers"

The film is told in flashback - opening with the perspective of Ali La Pointe, a small-time crook who is radicalised by the FLN while in prison, rising to become an important leader in the liberation movement. There are other protagonists as well including  FLN leaders L’harbi Ben M’hidi and El hadi Jaffar – all based on real-life FLN commanders. Most interesting of all is Pontecorvo’s emphasis on the role of women in the FLN. One of The Battle of Algiers’ most gripping sequences features three Algerian women, Djamila, Hassiba and Zohra who disguise themselves as Europeans to plant bombs at strategic locations in the European Quarter. As the women bleach their hair and don shorter skirts and make-up, they assume a false European identity that allows them to slip seamlessly through the Casbah checkpoints - no longer subjected to undignified scuffles with French soldiers. In just one scene, Pontecorvo offers a damning critique of the crude racism that fuels the French regime in Algiers. Yet, neither does he allow us the luxury of accepting the women’s actions. As Hassiba plants a bomb in a French Café, the camera focuses on a small child eating an ice-cream, seconds later the café is engulfed in an explosion and we are left to judge for ourselves the legitimacy of her actions against innocent civilians.

Preparing to leave the Casbah

Despite having an Italian director and European financing the film places Algerians - not Europeans - at its heart, using a cast of thousands of Algerian extras and a screenplay based on the memoirs of Saadi Yacef, a former FNL commander - Yacef also plays Jaffar, one of the FNL leaders.

With such an explosive cocktail of narrative elements in place, what’s remarkable about The Battle of Algiers is that it escapes easy romanticisation of the militants and humanises the French paratroopers who ruthlessly but skilfully hunt down the FNL cell by cell. Indeed, Colonel Mathieu, the commander granted a special decree to restore order to Algiers is a strangely likeable character. Mathieu (played by Jean Martin) is presented simply as a man fulfilling his duty; he respects the FNL leadership but when questioned by French journalists about his use of torture in interrogation responds; “Should France stay in Algeria? If the answer is yes then you must accept all the necessary consequences.” Thus Mathieu shrewdly confronts the French public with the unavoidable consequences of their colonial exploits. Throughout the film Jean Martin plays the colonel with a dark, acerbic humour. When informed by a journalist that Jean Paul Sartre has written in favour of the FNL, he comments, “Why are the Sartres always born on the other side?”

Jean Martin as Colonel Mathieu

The result is curiously even-handed, suffusing the events with an impressive moral ambiguity. Both sides commit atrocities against innocent civilians and as the conflict unfolds the violence becomes increasingly arbitrary. Algerian men, women and children shoot French policemen point-blank in the streets and in one scene, a French lynch mob fuelled by fear and racism attack an innocent Algerian in the wake of a terrorist attack. Pontecorvo clearly sympathised with the Algerians, but by creating such a complex world of circumstances and characters, he crafts a work that ultimately points to the futility of violence. As the conflict in Algiers spirals, claiming untold lives, the original injustices of the regime are obscured and the Algerian people continue to suffer.

"It challenged audiences to examine their own beliefs while refusing to provide any easy answers or simple justifications"

There can be no doubt that The Battle of Algiers is uneasy viewing, but it is nonetheless atmospheric, nuanced and deeply absorbing. It challenged audiences to examine their own beliefs while refusing to provide any easy answers or simple justifications. Pontecorvo’s work struck at the heart of universal philosophical, political and moral themes at a time when the Algerian conflict - and indeed ongoing anti-colonial struggles across Africa- was still fresh in the popular memory. The French government banned it for 5 years and its depictions of torture were heavily censored in Britain and America; evidence that its blistering critique of the French regime continued to ignite disquiet long after the end of the conflict. In France, where there is still considerable anxiety over the legacy of the colonial experiment, small steps such as the official recognition of the 1961 massacre of Algerian protestors in Paris - which forms the narrative linchpin of Michael Haneke’s Hidden - demonstrate renewed efforts to come to terms with the bitter conflict.

Juliet Binoche and Daniel Auteuil star in Hidden / Cache

The enduring power of .The Battle of Algiers undeniably lies in its complex, convincing realism. It has been studied by numerous resistance groups and even the Pentagon as a model for insurgency and counter-insurgency strategies.   Decades ago it posed profound questions that we have yet to answer; it’s this that makes it as relevant today as ever.