Black | Little White Lies

Black

18 Aug 2016 / Released: 19 Aug 2016

Two people, a man and a woman, face each other in an intense interaction, with the man holding what appears to be a firearm.
Two people, a man and a woman, face each other in an intense interaction, with the man holding what appears to be a firearm.
3

Anticipation.

Received solid notices from its Toronto Film Festival premiere.

3

Enjoyment.

Very well put together, but the material is way too familiar.

2

In Retrospect.

El Arbi and Fallah will be back, and probably with something stronger than this.

Gang war­fare on the streets of Brus­sels is the back­drop of this flashy but unful­fill­ing roman­tic tragedy.

With visu­al dynamism and cam­era-swish­ing flash in abun­dance, Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah’s Black sore­ly lacks for com­pelling, orig­i­nal char­ac­ters and inter­est­ing sit­u­a­tions. Adapt­ed from two nov­els by Flem­mish author Dirk Bracke, the film takes the hoary old tem­plate of Romeo and Juli­et and updates it to the mean streets of Brus­sels, where gang war­fare and pet­ty crime is rife. Its exam­i­na­tion of ter­ri­to­r­i­al vio­lence and the way in which immi­grant com­mu­ni­ties often find them­selves at log­ger­heads for local suprema­cy takes a back seat to a con­trived retelling of the Bard’s time-hon­oured tragedy. And it nev­er works, with each twist com­ing as a nec­es­sary manip­u­la­tion to fit the hal­lowed source rather than a nat­ur­al, sur­pris­ing pro­gres­sion to the narrative.

We’re intro­duced to gob­by, hyper-con­fi­dent Moroc­can hood, Mar­wan (Aboubakr Ben­sai­hi), as he struts up to a parked car with a brick in his hand and, with­out a sec­ond thought, smash­es through the win­dow with a female dri­ver left to gawp and scream at this sud­den inva­sion. His habit­u­al loot­ing of high street stores, as detailed in a propul­sive, music-dri­ven mon­tage, gets him cuffed and up for book­ing. While await­ing his fate, he bumps into a low-lev­el enforcer from a gang of black Bel­gian nation­als, Mavela (Martha Can­ga Anto­nio). From the very first moment, theirs is a love that is star-crossed.

As the film rolls on, Arbi and Fal­lah grad­u­al­ly ramp up the vio­lence. The street scuf­fles and back alley dust-ups soon lead to gun­play, hor­rif­ic group tor­ture and gang rape. These scenes, which become more reg­u­lar as the film reach­es its cli­max, grate up against the heavy styl­i­sa­tion – they’re made to look like grotesque per­for­mances rather than hor­ri­ble real­i­ty. Side play­ers, such as gang leader X (Emmanuel Tahon) and Marwan’s old­er broth­er, Nas­sim (Soufi­ane Chi­lah), are locked into a regres­sive mind­set, always want­i­ng to fight for rea­sons of nation­al pride. Their nas­ti­ness is inhu­mane – there’s sel­dom a moment where you would under­stand why Mar­wan and Mavela would want to be asso­ci­at­ed with these people.

And yet, this does work as a very handy call­ing card film. It neat­ly show­cas­es the direc­tors’ abil­i­ty to draw out ener­getic per­for­mances from their young cast, and how they’re able to build up an ener­gis­ing visu­al momen­tum with cuts, whip-pans, fast tracks and lots of cos­met­ic lens flare. The film it most recalls is Fer­nan­do Meirelles’ favela shoot-em-up, City of God, and also sug­gests that Hol­ly­wood will come a’knocking soon­er rather than later.

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