“Burnin’ and Lootin”: Pop Culture in Mathieu Kassovitz’s ‘La Haine’
Words by Ella Gauci
Mathieu Kassovitz’s 1995 La Haine is undeniably a cult classic. Documenting the lives of three Parisian teenagers - Vinz, Hubert, and Saïd - navigating police brutality within the banlieues, La Haine stands as a powerful statement about the titular anger of a generation. Within his masterpiece, Kassovitz plays with pop culture in order to situate the audience in a Paris that we not only recognise, but within a world tied to our own regardless of our status. Playing with intermediality - the intersection of different forms of media - Kassovitz is able to explore the forces and products of police brutality and gang violence. Taking on a documentary-like stance in places, La Haine feels as real as the real-life footage it begins with.
Possibly the most famous scene in the film takes place in Vinz’s bathroom where he embodies Robert De Niro’s character in Taxi Driver (1976). Recreating the iconic ‘You Talkin To Me’ scene with his fingers raised as a gun, Vinz is shown to be clearly influenced by the media he consumes. Emulating the gangster films of his generation, Vinz’s frustration with poverty is channelled through his wannabe-gangster attitude throughout the film. Like De Niro’s character Travis Bickle, Vinz clearly feels akin to the isolated fringe character which is then manifested within his anger throughout the film. Adopting an incredibly close shot on the actor Vincent Cassel, Vinz’s anger is palpable through his delivery as well as his stance.
It is not coincidental that Kassovitz uses the character of Vinz as his vessel for this display of anger. Unlike his friends Hubert and Said - who are black and Arab - Vinz’s whiteness allows him to emulate this behaviour without suffering the real consequences of police brutality. For Vinz, his own personal anger is channelled into his fight against the police rather than the collective anger that his friends experience. In his playacting of Travis Bickle we see this individual anger most evidently through the allusion Kassovitz is making between the two characters.
The music used in La Haine is just as important as the sweeping aerial shots in displaying the Paris that Kassovitz is keen to exhibit. The film begins with real life footage of rioters and policemen, and the choice of background music is key here - accompanying these shots is Bob Marley’s ‘Burnin’ and Lootin’. The slow reggae beat seems jarring to the scenes of extreme violence shown on the screen of rioters being dragged and tasered by police. Lyrics like ‘Burnin' and a-lootin' tonight’ and ‘How many rivers do we have to cross/ Talk to the boss?’ seem to resonate with the anger of the youth against the police that Kassovitz is showing. Furthermore, Said’s tagline he graffettis on the police van - ‘baise la police’ - can be seen as an homage to NWA’s song ‘Fuck the Police’ - an iconic record that directly displays the injustice of police brutality. The idolisation of American pop culture in this film by all three boys can be seen as being translated in their approach to their anger and injustice - it acts as a model in which they can funnel their anger through in order to validate it.
The film begins with footage from real life student riots within Paris in which rioters and police forces clash - often with violent outcomes. In a film that is very consciously and actively trying to depict the reality of police brutality, the inclusion of this media is a stark reminder to the viewer of the real life events the film is drawing upon. It also throws into question the medium of the film itself in conveying these real life events through fictionalisation. The line between fiction and a dramatised retelling are blurred. This is further complicated by the use of black and white in the film instead of colour as we might expect from this period. This conscious choice makes the film appear more akin to an art house film rather than having the risk of being lumped in with other gangster films. Kassovitz elevates the subject matter to the height of ‘high art’, forcing the reader to regard its subject with the seriousness and intellectual criticism it deserves.
Kassovitz’s art house phenomenon strays away from the conventions that we would expect to see in ‘high brow’ cinema. The references to rap, reggae, riots, and race weave through the film to show us a Paris that is not only deglamorized but situated within the popular culture of the 90s. In turn, it sets the stage for Kassovitz’s discussion of the youth’s anger against police brutality and poverty in a way that feels true to the frustration itself. It is not anger mediated by old tropes or cliche, but is viscerally shown through the sounds and sights of a generation.