“There are no such things as bad plants or bad men. There are only bad cultivators”

This powerful quote was written by Victor Hugo and appears in his seminal masterwork, Les Misérables. They’re also the final words of another piece that appropriates the title of Hugo’s novel, as well as some of its underlying themes and locations (the film takes place in the Montfermeil neighbourhood, which diligent viewers will recall was the setting for much of Hugo’s story). Ladj Ly did something extraordinary with Les Misérables – he found a way to not only capture a moment in time but to also present us with one of the most enduring portraits of the human condition ever committed to film, a rousing portrayal of the intricacies of life and its many trials and tribulations. This is a film with so many layers – it is unconventionally beautiful, often extremely violent and a hauntingly visceral exploration of modern society and the role of different individuals in a fragmented world. It isn’t surprising that Ly has achieved instant success and widespread recognition for his first film – it’s the exact kind of debut effort that is underestimated based on the perceived simplicity of the story and the apparent inexperience of the director, but later goes on to exceed all expectations due to its extraordinary conviction and deft ability to delve deep into some profound existentialist questions without ever overwhelming the audience. Les Misérables is a film that warrants a great deal of thought, but there is very little doubt that once we’ve ruminated on the multitudes of themes present in the film, everyone will understand that this is an impactful film that leaves an indelible impression, and will undoubtedly captivate a global audience, all of which can find some familiarity with the events depicted here, as well as its numerous resonant themes.  An extraordinary manifesto on the limitless bounds of the human spirit, Les Misérables is a poignant and heartbreaking experience.

The words that end the film are the perfect way to summarize what this film is saying, and is the point that launches us into the core of Les Misérables. Ly is a filmmaker who gets directly to the point of the film, and he leaves very little space to debate morality – it almost appears as if he’s not quite dismissing the notion of asking difficult questions that may never have answers, but still provoking certain ideas that would otherwise be explored with the intention of showing one side over the other, even if it takes a more ambigious stance. Les Misérables isn’t all that interested in trying to define the boundaries of good and evil in moments of desperation, but rather considers the aftermath of actions, which is where the true morality of the film remains. No one questions whether Issa deserved to be shot – but we are concerned with whether or not the people behind it are perpetrators of a heinous crime, or just ordinary working men doing their part to protect a society and to keep the peace, even if that comes at the expense of people who openly defy them. Les Misérables is a film that provokes the idea of consequence, and whether someone should be punished for their behaviour, whether it was for the good of the society. We are the product of our surroundings, and the film quietly explores the extent to which we tend to be nurtured into a particular form of behaviour. Criminality is not portrayed as being innate – this is represented through the many decent, hardworking individuals who find themselves caught between the crooked few who define the society. None of these characters seem to make any substantial growth in character – the cops are still sycophantic men who use their authority and power to gain favour and to strike fear into anyone who goes against their orders, while the children remain mischevious and playful – yet, it’s how the tension surrounding them starts to gradually heighten that makes the film so effective – where do we draw the line between mischief and crime? The film’s intense ponderings are all funnelled into the final sequence, where everything falls apart, leading to a truly harrowing climax where the characters on both sides have to stop and consider whether the events that led to this were worth it – Ly doesn’t ever offer any solution, with the haunting final moments lingering on in the mind of the viewer, who can’t help but be both unsettled and blown away by how the director manages to convey so much through so very little, provoking more questions than he does answers, and crafting perhaps the most terrifying sequence of the year.

Ly made a film that looks at French society and the general atmosphere of a particular suburb, but it is a universal film at heart, one that means something to all viewers, even those that may be unable to connect with the story on a personal level, but still possess the moral grounding that is called into question with this film – poverty and crime is an omnipotent problem, and most will be able to understand the issues Ly is raising here. Many of the characters in this film, as we’ve noted, find themselves in some kind of moral dilemma, and a large part of the success of this film comes in how it derives meaning from how resonant these ideas are, and how it doesn’t restrict itself to just one particular culture. It’s only in the first scene where the national background of this film is explicitly shown, a celebration of France winning the FIFA World Cup, thousands of people uniting in shared celebration on the Champs-Élysées, not knowing that beneath this solidarity, there is a much bigger divide that is far more permanent, and will be the basis of the film. The way the director begins and ends the film is fascinating, where demonstrations bookend the film, albeit with different motivations and emotional impetuses – joyful unity begins the film, and harrowing division ends it, which is a powerful, if not heartbreakingly realistic, portrayal of how those that celebrate together can eventually turn against each other in times of desperation and fear. Ly considers various concepts in constructing the film and creating this sense of division – race, age, nationality and social status are all pivotal themes, and form the centre of the film, and facilitate the tensions that gradually begin to erode at the fabric of society. Set mainly in what would traditionally be considered the slums of a city, the film looks at relations between people that may occupy different social roles, but are forced to live harmoniously, which is shown to be far more difficult than it appears to be. There are far too many real-world stories about how communities designed to work together sometimes harbour the most extraordinary tragedies, mainly through a lack of understanding between those who are supposed to co-exist together. In this regard, Ly is not making a strictly French film – he’s making a film that tries to represent something much wider, and he succeeds in taking Les Misérables away from just being an ordinary police procedural, and delivers something far darker and more unsettling, mainly because of how realistic his approach to it is, and how relentlessly angry, but also deeply poetic, the story tends to be, especially when it is so focused on the machinations of ordinary people finding themselves in precarious positions, and where staying silent is no longer a feasible option.

Les Misérables is certainly a powerful film throughout, and Ly’s approach to the film was to portray life exactly as it is, not taking too many liberties in how he portrays the action – there’s not a sensationalist moment anywhere in this film, and everything feels so authentic. The result is a visceral, realistic portrayal of a few days in the life of various French individuals in one particular area of Paris, one known for being occupied by those on the lower end of the economic spectrum. The film takes an episodic approach to this story, presenting us with a variety of individuals and their daily routines, which makes for compelling viewing simply through the way it shows us a side of society hardly demonstrated with such gritty honesty. Yet, as fascinating as the film as a whole is, it’s a few scenes that define the film and lead it to success. Ly’s intention was not to only convey the banality of everyday life, but to also demonstrate its volatility in a few sequences of unhinged violence. The first moment that captures your attention is the scene that sets off the main plot, where the three police officers go in pursuit of the young perpetrator of a petty crime, and find themselves fighting against a mob of angry children, resulting in something very close to tragedy, from which they have to save themselves and their reputation, or be eternally ruined. The second is an extended sequence that ends the film – the same officers once again find themselves fighting against the same children, just this time they aren’t prepared for the havoc they’re about to cause. They’re no longer children – they’ve abandoned their innocence, which was lost the moment they saw one of their friends gunned down for a very petty crime. They’ve become a vindictive mob that is not afraid to put themselves in danger for what they think is right. The decision to have Issa survive was more important than had the story lead him to die, as the final shot of the film, where he confronts the three men who stole his childhood, his face battered and his broken soul fully on display, strikes an emotional chord that very few films can achieve. Ly’s use of violence here is excessive but elegant. It feels like an unhinged ballet of brutality, and the scenes are filmed with such palpable tension, the audience feels just as terrified as the characters on screen. It’s an enormous undertaking to present violence in a way that actually serves a purpose (as opposed to just being used for the sake of being grisly), but Ly finds a way to portray as both terrifying and unforgettable, which is only one of the many reasons why this film is such a resounding success and a haunting experience like no other.

Violence is a tool for social change – but what is Ly trying to incite with how he uses it to make a statement? This is obviously a very layered question, and it also quite clear that the director was drawing from something a lot more personal. The experience of being an immigrant, growing up in ways very similar to the children depicted here, demonstrates a close connection between the artist and the story he’s telling. Les Misérables is less about one particular event, but rather the duality of a violent society – how brutality can be incited, as well as the aftermath that is often even more harrowing than the actual moments of violence themselves. There’s a universality to how Ly doesn’t restrict this film just to France – every society is prone to this kind of corruption, and as the final words of the film note, we can’t ever pinpoint this to one particular group of people, because vilifying one only positions another as sacrosanct, which is the exact opposite of Ly’s thesis statement here. Yet, the message he’s trying to convey isn’t that injustice is far too omnipotent in our society to be ignored (and that we shouldn’t wait for it to reach the point it does in Les Misérables to finally start making some change), but that asserting certain roles onto individuals is dangerous. The three main characters are introduced while on patrol, and we only get a glimpse into their personal lives right at the end, where they put away their authority and become vulnerable in their own space, away from the perilous world they have to navigate and defend on a daily basis. Ly never forms an image of good and evil throughout the film – rather, he portrays a theme that everyone can somehow relate to: survival, and how everyone in this film, regardless of their past, all act with the sole intention of self-preservation. Everyone is looking out for themselves before anyone else, which is why Les Misérables is such a complex film, because it never gives us the satisfaction that comes with seeing the protagonist succeed, because everyone in the film is just out to protect their own honour and reputation, but there is no joy in one thriving while another falls.

Ly, as with many aspects of the film, doesn’t choose sides and implies that the viewer shouldn’t either, but that we should rather look at the various individuals depicted through the film in a way that allows us to engage with their stories, rather than their actions. Les Misérables is not a film that intends to portray police officers as violent or volatile, nor the children as defiant brats – society is composed of complex individuals, each one operating based on their own ambigious intentions, with their actions reflecting both the innate quality to survive and the culturally-conditioned methods of doing so. The film is a powerful exploration of a faction of society, one that is intricate and nuanced, without every being convoluted, with the film being executed with a chaotic precision that makes it such a breathtaking work of contemporary realism. We can look at the sequences where the violence escalates to the point where these individuals become unrecognizable, both physically and morally, and how such events shape the cultural consciousness. It is certainly a film that takes a daring approach to portray violence in a way that feels authentic and not exploitative, and ultimately effectively uses to make a poignant, heartbreaking statement. Yet, even below the disconcerting sequences of violence, there’s a sense of a broken society that cannot be healed, not at long as these tensions exist – there’s no winners or losers in such a fragmented world. Les Misérables is not a pessimistic film – there is certainly some hope beneath the despair the film demonstrates – but it also doesn’t trivialize the struggles of the individuals it depicts. Ly draws upon an insatiable anger embedded in his past in constructing a film that is often quite disconcerting to watch, but one that’s frequently beautiful in how approaches existence in a way that feels honest, finding the hope in even the most horrifying of situations, even if it’s clear there are bigger problems that cause this social unease, ones that can’t easily be mended. Les Misérables may not be an easy film, nor a particularly pleasant experience, but it’s an essential one for our times.