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[N.B. This post was begun early last week, before the latest crisis with Iran].

Six months plus one week, to be precise, in this latest round of the Israel-Hamas war—and the fifteenth round that Israel has waged in Gaza war going back to 1948—and which could possibly be the final one if Israel, taking a leaf from Gen. Curtis LeMay, succeeds in bombing Gaza back to the Stone Age, or of seeing Gaza figuratively sink into the sea, as Yitzhak Rabin dreamt of in the pre-Oslo days. My previous post on the war—the one that I’ve had so far—was on day 14, which I concluded with the assertion that “whatever one’s sympathies in this conflict, there can be no dispute over what Hamas did on October 7th—and for which it must pay the maximum price.” To be precise, I had in mind that it would be just Hamas who would/should pay that price, not the people of Gaza.

I have since modified my view on that, more on which below. In the meantime, here is the editorial in Le Monde on this six-month anniversary (7-8 April issue; I have taken the liberty of editing Le Monde’s mediocre online English translation), aptly titled “Israel-Gaza: The Triumph of Hatred.”

It has been six months since the massacre of Israeli civilians by Hamas on 7 October 2023 and with no end in sight to the bloodshed in Gaza. Israel is waging in Gaza the longest, deadliest, and most devastating war in its history, and which is rising to a frightening new level, in a conflict that has long been prisoner to its tragedies.

The past few months have confirmed the worst fears. Israel’s army (IDF) has responded to the terror spread by Hamas with new military paradigms. Disproportionality has become the norm, obliterating the distinction between militia fighters and civilians. According to a report by an Israeli investigative website [+972 Magazine: report here], the IDF has used AI to select thousands of human targets based on the assessment of the very same intelligence services that had foreseen neither Hamas’ preparations for October 7 nor the magnitude of Hamas’ tunnel network. And for what result? Four months after taking over Gaza’s largest hospital to hunt down Hamas fighters, the IDF found it necessary to launch another deadly and particularly destructive assault on the hospital at the end of March. And which will no doubt be followed by yet another one.

Under the impetus of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, whose political survival is indexed to the destruction of Gaza and who has been unable to either free the hostages taken on October 7 or to eradicate Hamas, Israel is reoccupying the narrow strip of land that is Gaza after having asphyxiated it for 16 years. The maximalism of what is the most extremist government in Israel’s history is not only creating a humanitarian crisis on an unprecedented scale but is also signaling that it will impede the reconstruction of Gaza whenever the guns eventually fall silent.

This extremist drift in Israel has been enabled by the blindness of the US, whose timid reservations have been rightly understood as tacit support. With the decimation of Palestinian civilians, journalists, and humanitarian aid workers, it finally took the deaths of six foreign employees of an American NGO, killed by successive Israeli drone strikes during a trip that had even been coordinated with the Israeli army, for President Joe Biden to speak out in anger. And to obtain what? A promise to facilitate the arrival of the humanitarian aid needed to prevent famine in Gaza. In other words, the bare minimum that would be expected of any democracy worthy of the name.

Joe Biden’s pro-Israel bias, which may cost him re-election in November, is not solely to blame. It is important to also note the almost deliberately assumed impotence of European governments, which has fueled criticism of the inconsistency with which they evoke their moral principles; the reaction of Arab states that have signed normalization agreements with Israel, who seem to have little objection to what is happening in Gaza; and the cynical posture of Russia and China, who have done little more than to profit from the Gaza war by heaping contempt on the West.

The sum total of these paralyzing forces has buried the already fragile hope that emerged during the first weeks of the war: the realization that only a political perspective could guarantee security for these two peoples who are locked in hatred. Six months after 7 October 2023, hatred has triumphed as never before.

Speaking on France Inter last Monday, Libération editor-in-chief Dov Alfon—who is Franco-Israeli, a former editor-in-chief of Haaretz, and who served as an officer in the IDF’s directorate of military intelligence—said that October 7th has brought about a profound change among Israelis, who, having seen the plethora of video and other filmed images of what happened on that day—of the suffering of the victims and the terror visited upon them—have in effect ceased to see Palestinians as human beings meriting respect or worthy of consideration. Conversely, Alfon continued, “for the Palestinians, who are being bombed, massacred, and starved, the possibility of seeing the Israelis as human no longer exists. This is the profound tragedy of the October 7th attacks”.

Of the filmed images of that day that have so traumatized Israeli society, one that is particularly excruciating to watch—and contemplating the horror of that moment—is of the music festival site after the terrorists and marauders had fled or were neutralized, of the sight of the dozens of dead bodies, of the young people machine-gunned at close range. This was Paris on 13 November 2015 by several magnitudes.

During the final scene in this movie I saw in December—which takes place on 21-22 June 1941 in a Jewish village in Soviet Ukraine (in the part of Poland annexed by the USSR two years earlier), near the border with German-occupied Poland—I thought of the morning of October 7th, of the people at the festival and in the communities that were hit by the terrorist onslaught, when they realized what was happening. Everything is fine and normal one day, and then suddenly, early the next day, out of the blue

Kibbutz Be’eri looked like it was a really nice place. Until suddenly it wasn’t.

The final scene in the movie was the beginning of Operation Barbarossa, with the Wehrmacht and SS rolling into the shtetl in the wee hours, and doing what they did to the Jews they encountered.

The largest locality hit on October 7th was Sderot, a perennial target of Hamas rockets that I briefly visited after the 2008-09 Operation Cast Lead. As it happens, I had an AWAV post in 2012 (here, scroll down), in which I reported on a documentary I had seen (in Paris, at an event sponsored by a radical left-wing association) about the film school at Sderot’s Sapir College, with its mixed Jewish and Arab/Palestinian student body (including from Gaza), leftist faculty and dean (who advocated negotiations with Hamas at the time), annual film festival, conferences on peace, and everything else one associates with a progressively-minded establishment of higher education. If the Hamas gunmen had come across the film school and known all the above, they would have still shot up the place and everyone they encountered.

The post-October 7th Israeli zeitgeist—the horror and trauma mixed with rage—is captured in an email sent to Claire Berlinski by her American-Israeli friend, Judith Levy, who lives near Tel Aviv, and which Claire published last November 11th on her Substack site.

(…) Absolutely no one of any political persuasion is advocating that we do what we usually do, which is give Hamas a good kicking and then stop before the job is done in order to minimize the global shrieking that we’re Nazis. Our fear of global opinion, combined with Bibi’s catastrophic commitment to the sustaining of Hamas as a foil to Fatah and a guarantor that a Palestinian state would never emerge, ensured that time and space (and even money, unbelievably) were always given to Hamas to rearm and come back even stronger. This time, Israel (meaning both the decision makers and the population) is much less concerned about world opinion and absolutely determined to end Hamas in Gaza once and for all. The scale of the atrocities committed on October 7 woke everyone up at once.

What I am hearing again and again is this: Fuck everyone. Fuck Bibi and what he’s done to us. Fuck world opinion. Fuck the antisemites. Fuck the useless braindead college students aligning themselves with butchers and rapists and child killers because they believe in their stupidity that that’s a good way of signaling their virtue. Fuck the “Cease-fire now!!” hysterics. Oh, you don’t like how we’re reacting when 1,400 of our citizens were murdered in a single day? When teenage girls were sodomized until they were pouring blood and then dragged by their hair behind jeeps before being abducted? When Israeli women were gang-raped, murdered, and then had their naked bodies dragged back to Gaza to be paraded through the streets for baying mobs screaming “Allahu Akbar?” When mothers and their children were burned alive and fathers had their eyes gouged out in front of their children before they were shot to death? “Cease-fire now?” Fuck you.

You see this new outlook in the highly unusual determination of the decision makers not to negotiate a cease-fire without all the hostages being released. No more begging and pleading and throwing hundreds of blood-drenched convicted monsters back to their nests in exchange for Israeli body parts. Not this time. We will keep pounding and pounding until they release them all. You don’t like it, world? Fuck you. (…)

Judith’s coup de sang expressed not only her own rage but also that of the near-totality of Israeli Jews in the aftermath of October 7th—a collective rage that remains intact six months later.

For an in-depth report on October 7th, and replete with graphic images, do watch the one-hour documentary by Al Jazeera’s Investigative Unit—which can hardly be suspected of pro-Israel bias—posted March 21st on the Al Jazeera English website: “October 7: Forensic analysis shows Hamas abuses, many false Israeli claims.”

A few comments on the slick, professionally-produced Al Jazeera report. First, while it is an important documentary and should be watched regardless of one’s POV, it is—surprise!—not entirely objective. As the friend who sent it to me correctly remarked, AJ seems to be more interested in what did not happen that day then what did happen, and likewise focuses more on the Israeli civilians who may have been killed, accidentally or inadvertently, by Israeli forces than those who were murdered, many in atrocious circumstances, by Hamas and other gunmen—but also by mobs of men from Gaza who streamed through the breaches in the fence to loot, pillage, and rape (and who indeed look to have committed many, if not most, of the rapes and sexual abuse that occurred that morning). AJ also spends time grilling ZAKA’s shifty Yossi Landau but asks no tough questions of Dr. Bassem Naim of the Hamas political bureau, but whom there is no more reason to trust than Landau

A comment on Naim. Bringing up the Great March of Return, he laments that “we went peacefully in thousands but what was the response of the international community? Nothing…In this context we [the Hamas political bureau] have discussed many times and in many sessions, what can we do?” The 2018-19 marches were, IMHO, a case in which both Hamas and Israel were equally culpable. Hamas first, in cooking up the publicity stunt of inciting thousands of Gazawis to march to the border fence, intimating that they would try to enter Israel to recover the homes of their great- or great-great grandparents—which no longer exist or are inhabited by other people—knowing full well that this is the ultimate Israeli nightmare, the very idea is bonkers to begin with, and the trigger-happy Israelis could be expected to react in the way that they did. Which is precisely what Hamas wants. As for the Israelis and their reaction, they killed, over a two year period, 223 Gazawis and wounded or maimed over 9,000—the wounded/maimed being shot in the legs or knees, an IDF specialty with teenage boys in the West Bank—all of whom were marching perhaps rowdily, but still peacefully, on the Gaza side of the fence. For the Israelis to react so violently, and play Hamas’s game while they were at it, was simply outrageous, if not downright criminal.

On Dr. Naim sighing “what can we do?,” i.e. what can Hamas do to make sure that the United States and Europe don’t forget about Gaza and the Palestinians, implicitly concluding that Hamas had little choice but to launch Operation Al-Aqsa Flood. Naim’s question has been posed for the past 17+ years as the narrative has set in of Gazawis being in a cage, or open-air prison, and that the Israeli blockade is the sole, exclusive cause of their collective distress. But while the Israelis may indeed be SOBs, the notion that Hamas possesses no agency in this particular matter is, IMHO, debatable in the extreme. Whenever the open-air prison metaphor has come up in contradictory exchanges on Hamas and Gaza over the past 17 years, I have asked the simple question: if Hamas wants to take the initiative and, turning the tables on Israel, proactively lay the groundwork for an end of the Israeli siege and kickstart the process that would hopefully free Gazawis from the open-air prison, why doesn’t Hamas simply accept, unilaterally and unambiguously, the three principles of the Middle East Quartet? Rhetorical question obviously and to which, ça va de soi, I have never received a response. And it’s a moot question today in any case.

There is, of course, an answer to why Hamas could never accept the aforementioned three principles, which is in its very name: Al-Muqawama. Resistance!

On the question of resistance, what this signifies for Hamas, and some problems with it, the prominent (in France) psychoanalyst, Gérard Miller, who is on the radical left (and close to Jean-Luc Mélenchon), offered this incisive commentary.

If following the French is a problem, the gist: no French Resistance fighter, facing Nazi barbarism, would have tortured anyone, raped women, machine-gunned teenagers; no Vietnamese resisting US imperialism ever hijacked a plane or put bombs in the New York subway, etc.

Back to Al Jazeera’s October 7th report, one is struck, indeed stunned, by the breathtaking, unbelievable incompetence of the Israeli Defense Forces, the intelligence services, and, above all, Israel’s political leadership, i.e. Benjamin Netanyahu. To call this humiliating for the IDF et al is an understatement. That the Israelis were going to collectively react with rage and fury went without saying—and with the people of Gaza paying the price. Hamas knew this, as did the useful idiots outside Palestine who cheered Hamas’ action or apologized for it (because Resistance!). And if they didn’t know, then they’re idiots tout court.

A historical parallel and point of comparison. In July 1996, in conversing with the great Algerian historian Mohammed Harbi—who was a singular personality in Algeria’s independence struggle (1954-62)—I expressed dismay over the outcome of the Israeli election two months earlier, which saw the utterly unexpected victory of Benjamin Netanyahu and his Likud party over the incumbent Shimon Peres, who was supposed to win easily in the wake of the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin. Harbi—a man of the left—responded to the effect of, “Well, what did you expect? It was only normal that the Israeli electorate would move to the right in view of the context.” The context: Prime Minister Peres, trying to look tough on terrorism and to counter Netanyahu’s demagoguing the Oslo peace process, ordered the targeted assassination of Yahya Ayyash, a.k.a. The Engineer, Hamas’ infamous bombmaker, who had fabricated the devices that killed several dozen Israelis in terror attacks over the previous two years, and whom the Israelis had tracked down in his Gaza hideaway. Whacking Ayyash may have made Israelis feel good (my personal reaction at the time: “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy…” #irony #SecondDegree) but then Hamas inevitably retaliated in the way it always does, which was to stage a series of suicide bombings, in Tel Aviv, West Jerusalem, and Ashqelon, which killed some 60 people and injured/maimed close to 300 (all going to show that you knock off one bombmaker and another will take his place).

This being the context, Harbi told me a story from his time in the FLN during the Algerian war of independence, which broke out when he was a university student and activist in Paris, him rallying to the FLN soon after, going underground, evading arrest, fleeing France, and, in 1958, landing at the headquarters of the FLN’s provisional government in Tunis. As the French military’s counter-insurgency looked to be succeeding, the FLN leadership in Tunis debated opening a new front in the war, in metropolitan France, with the FLN’s underground organization there waging a terror campaign: bombs in cafés, public transportation, and the like. French public opinion had largely been supportive of the “operation for the maintenance of order,” as the Algerian war was officially called in France—turning against it only in early 1962, in its final months—though an increasing portion of the left opposed the war from 1956 onward, thanks in part to the persuasive efforts of pro-independence Algerian activists infused with universal values imparted by the French educational system, Mohammed Harbi being one. Harbi was, as he recounted to me, vehemently opposed to targeting civilians; while he certainly had moral objections to terrorism, in his argument with the FLN leadership, he impressed upon them that the painstaking efforts of FLN militants in France to enlist Frenchmen and women to the cause of Algerian independence would have been wiped out in an instant if FLN bombs had started going off in buses and restaurants in metropolitan France. The ensuing crackdown on the Algerian migrant population in France—a large portion of which lived in shantytowns on the urban periphery, where the underground FLN reigned—would have been like nothing ever seen.

Harbi’s argument won the day. The FLN finally did not wage a terror campaign in metropolitan France, the French electorate approved in a referendum (and by a landslide) the principle of negotiations with the FLN, the negotiations happened, and the rest was history. (If one doesn’t know about Mohammed Harbi, who is one of the persons in this world whom I most admire, but is known outside Algeria and France only to academic specialists of Algeria, see my good friend Adam Shatz’s profile of him in The New York Times, in February 2003). For the record, it should be said that the FLN nonetheless carried out sabotage operations in France and targeted policemen, some 50 of whom were killed—and which fueled the fury of Maurice Papon’s men on the night of 17 October 1961.

One shudders to contemplate the reaction in France, the fury and rage—of public opinion, the army, police, you name it—if the FLN had carried out terror attacks in metropolitan France on the scale of October 7th in Israel. The 17 octobre would have been child’s play by comparison. There was, of course, what was already happening in French Algeria at the time, a little further back, and in history, but we won’t get into that. Or into any of the countless other massacres and counter-massacres in modern times that can be compared with what’s happening in Israel-Palestine right now.

The point I want to make here is that in the way Israelis have reacted to October 7th, they have behaved no differently than any other people would have in the same circumstances. Israelis are no worse than any other people. But they are also no better.

In the immediate aftermath of October 7th, a few things were clear: the main thing being that Israel, in view of the horror, trauma, shock, fury, rage, humiliation, et j’en passe, was going to, pardon my French, kick the shit out of Gaza. Not just Hamas, but Gaza. Turn Gaza into a parking lot, as MAGA-type Americans would say. Bomb it back to the Stone Age, dixit Gen. Le May. Apply Hama Rules (which Thomas Friedman, who coined the expression, said himself). And while I don’t believe the Israelis set out to bomb indiscriminately or kill randomly—that would be an inefficient use of resources and the IDF, I am quite sure, does not operate on the same moral level as, say, its Russian counterpart; and I am staying away from polemics in regard to the G-word—it is beyond doubt that they have, in pursuit of their putative military objectives, been raining bombs on Gaza with wanton disregard for the lives of non-combatants (and that the Israelis drop leaflets from the sky giving people 24 hours to evacuate their homes—their property, their livelihoods, everything they own, leave their pet cats and dogs behind, and to do what and go where?—does not attenuate the cruelty of their action). And while Israelis say all sorts of things, including cabinet members in a government, it is clear that the prevailing sentiment after October 7th was that it was not only Hamas that was the guilty party for what happened on that day but Gazawis themselves: a large percentage of the population, if not all of it. Even the most liberally-minded Israelis, who are for the two-state solution and all, freely admitted—and this was so widely reported, and which I heard myself—that, with the emotions of October 7th, they did not have it in them to feel empathy for what Gazawis were experiencing under the rouleau compresseur of the IDF and the carpet bombing of its air force. As the Israelis have always imposed collective punishment on Palestinians under their occupation—village lockdowns, home demolitions, arbitrary checkpoints, entre autres—it went without saying that they were going to impose it on Gaza, with Gazawis seen as either in cahoots with Hamas or in sympathy with its action on October 7th.

Israeli television is also showing few images of what its army is doing in Gaza, as, in the words of Jérôme Bourdon of the communications department at Tel Aviv University, “Israelis in their majority do not want to see the suffering of the Gazawis.” This does not, however, mean that Israelis are seeing no images from Gaza or are unaware of what’s happening there. Au contraire. They’re seeing plenty, via social media, from soldiers who are exulting in what they’re going. E.g. this video, the title of which really does express the current zeitgeist. (N.B. This “commentary based” Twitter/X account has nothing to do with the Mossad intelligence agency).

N.B. The buildings in the first explosion are Israa University near Gaza city, which the IDF took over for a period before gratuitously blowing it up—and for no manifest reason other than to destroy a Palestinian institution of higher education.

The soldiers who took the one below are pleased that they’ve wiped out peoples’ homes (whose owners will likely not see a shekel in insurance), some of which may have been of Hamas officials but more that were surely not. Israelis and others have apparently been surprised to learn that there is—or was—a middle class in Gaza and who lived in nice homes. If one has not seen it, do take a look at the photo-essay in the NYT by Balakrishnan Rajagopal of the United Nations and Yaqeen Baker, Domicide: The Mass Destruction of Homes Should Be a Crime Against Humanity.”

Israel’s hasbara operatives will say that the soldiers posting these videos and the schadenfreude commentaries are bad apples and in no way representative of their brothers-in-arms. Perhaps. I wouldn’t know, but there is no a priori reason to assume that their sentiments are not widely held among Israelis, let alone their brothers-in-arms.

When criticized for the massive physical destruction caused by the IDF, Israel’s partisans reflexively respond with “the tunnels!” and “human shields!,” as if the alleged existence of the former under a building automatically justifies reducing that building to a pile of rubble, no questions asked, and the fact of the latter—and yes, Hamas does indeed have a strategy of human shields—somehow absolves Israel of any responsibility for killing those “human shields”—as if the Israelis had no agency in the matter—by pinning the blame on Hamas.

The lengthy comment by Philippe Lemoine below is worth the read.

The image below: how can this gratuitous demolition of such an important institution possibly be excused or explained away?

It is impossible not to conclude that the centers of power in Israel have decided to simply destroy the Gaza strip, to wipe out not only its infrastructure but also its institutions—all of them—to make the place uninhabitable.

And the fate of the 2 million Gazawis: The thinking of the decision-makers in Jerusalem will come out at some point but, again, it is impossible not to conclude that the Israelis really did think that hundreds of thousands of Gazawis, even over a million, could be sent over the Egyptian border on a one-way trek to tent city refugee camps in the Sinai, where the international community (so-called) would deal with the situation, ultimately resettling the Gazawis in third countries.

And if this scheme didn’t pan out (and it hasn’t), then what? Well, whatever. There is very possibly no coherent plan for how to deal with the Gazawis or what happens on the “day after.” The whole Operation Swords of Iron looks like one big fuite en avant (French expression meaning “a rash course of action the consequences of which have not been thought through)”. In other words, the Israelis don’t know WTF they’re doing.

Of the time I devote to keeping up with this wretched war, I spend a fair amount of it following the pro-Israel camp, listening to podcasts in particular, some via Israel-based platforms that are centrist or rightwing (on the Israeli spectrum). Among the personalities I’ve listened to with interest are Michael Oren, David Hazony, Daniel Gordis, and Haviv Rettig Gur. I may also add that I do have a few friends who are resolutely pro-Israel (and who all seem to be getting their information and arguments from the same sources, as they talk about the war in much the same way). Reading mainstream press reports and analyses, and then listening to a pro-Israel podcast is like watching MSNBC or CNN and then flipping to Fox (which I do on occasion when in the US). It’s a strange, sometimes jarring experience, as the two sides, if they’re even talking about the same thing, have such hugely different perceptions of reality. All do agree, though, that the humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza is real; the question is, whose fault is it? The pro-Israel camp says Hamas, because Tunnels! and Human Shields! There’s a lot of “shooting and crying” among these folks, who, to a man and woman, profess their deep pain and anguish at the images of suffering in Gaza, of how they are so personally devastated by it all that it keeps them up at night. The fact that the suffering is the consequence of Israeli bombing on an almost unprecedented scale is acknowledged but with the retort that the IDF is fighting in an exceptionally complex, difficult urban environment—with its Tunnels and Human Shields—and has gone to extraordinary lengths to minimize civilian casualties, because, you know, Israelis really do care about Palestinians! (this is literally a direct quote, and from one who shared the post-October 7th sentiment that Israelis did not have it in them to feel compassion for the Palestinians in Gaza who were being bombed back to the Stone Age). The mindset here—of moral superiority—reminds one of that quote by Golda Meir, “We can forgive the Arabs for killing our children. But we can never forgive them for forcing us to kill their children.” The bottom line here: Israel is waging this war because it has no choice!

On moral superiority: Tenacious Israeli narratives in regard to the moral code of its army are being brandished—by Michael Oren in particular, a onetime IDF spokesman—and with increasing insistency in the face of global criticism of Israel’s action in Gaza. As for why Israel is being denounced for, in this view, simply trying to defend itself against a terrorist organization that murdered 1,200 of its citizens in a single morning, it’s because: Antisemitism. Everyone hates the Jews. This is an important subject, which I’ll get into another time. A few points, though. First, no, Michael Oren, everyone does not hate the Jews. Second, it is incorrect to say that there is an upsurge in antisemitism in the world; it just seems that way, as persons who kept their Jew-hatred to themselves are now acting it out. Third, a lot of what seems like antisemitism is, in fact, Fanonism, which is not the same thing. Fourth, one suspects that Israelis who assert that the whole world is antisemitic find comfort in that, as it conveniently allows them to dismiss objections to their behavior and actions in the occupied Palestinian territories; moreover, it puts Israel in the same category with the Russians, Turks, 1990s Serbs, and other such nations with paranoid narratives that everyone hates or is out to get them; it is not good that Israel should feel this way. Fifth, the two countries I know the best and both of which I am a citizen, the United States and France, and good places for Jews and will remain so.

One issue on which there is unanimity in the pro-Israel camp is the media coverage of Gaza and its apparent anti-Israel bias. Anglophones are thus denouncing the US and UK media—with one throwing temper tantrums at the NY Times and Washington Post, which s/he considers sans rire to be in the tank for Hamas. Sérieux. In France, Israel’s partisans like to beat up on press organs identified with the left, e.g. Libération, whose coverage is, in fact, first rate. When it comes to the media coverage of Gaza, I have a question. I recently listened to a podcast with Haviv Rettig Gur on the delivery of humanitarian aid to starving Gazawis, in which he asserted that Israel is desperately trying get the aid into Gaza but is being thwarted by numerous obstacles, the principal one being the determination of Hamas to either steal the aid or prevent it from reaching the starving people of Gaza, as Hamas wants them to starve to death, so as to make Israel look bad (which may or may not be the case, but how is it that there are still Hamas fighters roaming the strip north of Rafah six months after the Israeli invasion, the strip a vast pile of rubble, 12,000 Hamas fighters killed according to the Israelis, and the tunnels presumably out of commission?). In contrast are recent articles in Le Monde by its Jerusalem correspondents, Louis Imbert and Samuel Forey, on the humanitarian aid issue but which paint a very different picture, with Israel being the big problem and impediment.

The Le Monde reports are well-sourced. Haviv Rettig Gur, a major figure in the Israeli press, certainly has his. What both have in common is that neither have been into Gaza, not independently at least. Since October 7th, the only journalists who have been into Gaza are those who are embedded with the IDF for brief forays into the strip. Otherwise, there has been no independent reporting from Gaza—excepting by local Palestinian journalists, over a hundred of whom have been killed so far—as the IDF will not allow it. The only reporter from a major international news organization who managed to slip into Gaza under the noses of the IDF was CNN’s Clarissa Ward last December.

This means that for Israeli journalists and podcast pundits who hew to the official line on the war, their main sources of information of what’s happening inside Gaza are government and army briefings. À propos, the Uber-Zionist American-Israeli author, Daniel Gordis, who is no gauchiste (e.g. he has called Peter Beinart “a traitor to the Jewish people”), had this to say in a podcast discussion:

If you look at the press this past weekend [late December 2023], this was the first weekend since the war started in which there was lots of stuff about how all these army briefings are basically BS. The army is telling us what they want us to hear, and they are not covering all of the military failures that have taken place since the beginning of the war.

FYI, BS means bullshit. In the absence of independent reporting from Gaza, those who rely on the IDF for information are getting a lot of bullshit.

On the moral code of the IDF, which Michael Oren mentioned a dozen times in one recent podcast,, please watch six minutes (from 45″) of this discussion with the Israeli-American historian and Holocaust scholar, Omer Bartov, on James M. Dorsey’s fine podcast. What Bartov has to say about the IDF today compared to what it was when he served (in the early !970s) is very interesting. If Israeli soldiers used to “shoot and cry,” today they just shoot. I’ll post the transcript in the comments thread.

I have a conclusion to this longer-than-expected post, which I will add as an update later this week. In the meantime I highly recommend this article (March 28) by Phil Klay in The Atlantic, “U.S. Support for Israel’s War Has Become Indefensible: A good pretext for war is not enough to make a war just.”

I saw him in concert last Friday. Grand Corps Malade (GCM for short), literally “tall sick body”: I will wager that no one who is not French or does not live in France (or Romandy, Wallonia, Luxembourg, or Quebec) has heard of him. GCM is the stage name of slam poet-lyricist-performer Fabien Marsaud, who has had a solid following in the Francophone world since bursting onto the music scene in 2006 but is entirely unknown outside that world (as to why that is the case is an open question). I had never heard of GCM myself before seeing the (terrific) 2017 movie ‘Patients’, which was nominated for four César awards (including best film). Borrowing from my AWAV post dated 20 February 2018:

(…) [Patients], which is based on co-director Marsaud’s best-selling 2012 book of the same title, is autobiographical, of Marsaud’s accident in 1997, at age 20, of diving into the shallow end of a swimming pool, which left him a partial tetraplegic, and of his time in a physical rehab center near Paris—where the film was shot—and where, against all odds, he managed to regain most of his motor functions (he now walks with a cane).  (…) Marsaud [as depicted in the film] was an amateur basketball player and all-around athletic type when the accident happened, with it becoming rather obvious that he would not be able to pursue his sporting passions, regardless of his physical condition once he left the center. Marsaud thus found a new career, as a slam poet-singer, adopting the stage name Grand Corps Malade… which is how he is known to the public. I am ashamed to admit that I was not familiar with his music before seeing the film. I am now and can assert that it is great, and particularly the film’s theme score, Espoir adapté (with Anna Kova). Now tell me this is not a terrific song! It literally moves me to tears … Other great songs by GCM I have discovered this week: Funambule [Tightrope walker], Au feu rouge (on refugees fleeing to Europe; very powerful), and Je viens de là (on being from the banlieue). There are more. I am a fan, point barre.

As one may surmise, GCM’s slam poetry is heavily driven by social themes and references to, and celebrations of, the diversity of French society—GCM hailing from Paris’ immigrant-populated, Global South-origin northern banlieues. Politically speaking, it is a safe bet that he is the 180° opposite of Eric Zemmour and anyone in public life who carries the name Le Pen, and that he is well to the left of Emmanuel Macron. Though declaring myself a GCM fan back in ’18, I can’t say that I followed him closely or listened to much of his music over the subsequent six years. But when I saw on the internet one night last December that GCM would be in concert at the Zénith the following March, and with the least expensive tix at a bargain €35, I reflexively bought two, assuming that my wife would not only come with me but be happy to see GCM live.

Erroneous assumption, as not only did she inform me that she is not at all a fan of GCM but would be out of town on the day of the concert. And when I asked my daughter, the response was likewise: not a fan and would in any case be busy packing that evening for a transcontinental trip the next day, so: sorry but no. I then asked a dozen friends, friends of friends, and in-laws if they’d be interested in seeing GCM with me and for free—my treat!—but the replies were all the same: “sorry, not a fan,” “thanks but I’ll pass,” or “ce n’est pas mon truc GCM” (GCM is not my thing). Ben alors!

Now I am well aware, as we all are, that everyone has her/his music tastes, music that I like will not necessarily be by friends with whom I am otherwise on the same page on just about everything else of significance, but this was a categorical near 100% rejection by a critical mass of persons I know (with but one, a friend of my daughter’s, who’s a fan of GCM, but she lives down in the Alps, alas). So I decided that I would go to the Zénith early and try to sell both tickets there and forget about the whole thing, but failed in that too! After unloading one for €10 to a shady type who was clearly not going to the concert—I have no idea what he did with it, as the seats were numbered—I went inside to attend the concert all by myself, surely the only solo mid-Boomer in the entire arena.

And I’m glad I did. Totally. The arena was full to capacity (6,200), and this was the first of three sold-out GCM concerts at the Zénith, which is the third largest indoor concert venue in the Paris region—after the Paris-La Défense Arena (40K, where I saw Bruce Springsteen last May) and the Accor Paris-Bercy Arena (20K).

GCM clearly has a dedicated, enthusiastic following—Millennials and Gen-Zers in the great majority, which is normal—of fans who have likely seen him numerous times. There was a complicity between him and the audience, with which he interacted throughout, and who laughed along with his references and inside jokes. The event began toward 8:20, with the opening act, Nikola, a Franco-Montenegrin from Besançon previously unknown to me, who wasn’t too bad. GCM and his band came out toward 9:00, with GCM announcing that most of the concert would be from his latest album, “Reflets” (released last October; thus his present Reflets Tour around France and neighboring Francophone cities). Needless to say, I was utterly unfamiliar with the album and had heard none of the songs on it.

The verdict: It is very good! I like it! I was favorably impressed! And thanks to Spotify, I have been listening to it since. The concert setlist has yet to be posted but the one from GCM’s March 15th concert in Geneva has, and it looks to be much the same: all twelve songs from the Reflets album and eight earlier ones (most of which I recognized). Here are a few from the album that I particularly like, beginning with the beautiful “Retiens les rêves,” which IMHO is the best.

The opening track on the album, “J’ai vu de la lumière” (I saw the light), on being in the doldrums after his life-changing accident and then discovering his new vocation.

“C’est aujourd’hui que ça se passe”: Today is the day it happens!

“2083”: On what the world will look like after six more decades of unchecked climate change. Nightmarish.

“Le Jour d’après” (The day after), this with English subtitles, recounts the terrible tragedies that befell three persons but that fueled their determination to recover and live life to the fullest.

“Rue La Fayette”: At a red light one rainy September night, GCM sees a couple in a café who look like they’re breaking up, having their last drink together.

“Je serai là”: I will always be there for you.

Here are some of the other songs GCM played, all of which were hits. “Mais je t’aime” with Camille Lellouche is GCM’s biggest by far. Nice song though not my favorite.

Second place in the GCM hit parade is “Derrière le brouillard” (Behind the fog), with Louane.

“Nos plus belles années” (Our best years), with Kimberose, is the third biggest hit.

“Mesdames”: GCM pays homage to women, apologizing in the name of the male gender for patriarchy and the generally poor behavior of men toward women in the course of human history. The lead track in the eponymous 2020 hit album, entirely comprised of duets with different chanteuses (including the above three). An always timely theme in this #MeToo era, most lately for me with the smash hit Italian movie I saw two days ago.

“Romeo kiffe Juliette”: Romeo and Juliette are 16-year-old lovebirds in a banlieue cité, but he’s Muslim and she’s Jewish, so it’s obviously impossible. A hit song from 2010. N.B. the verb “kiffer” is a banlieue/young people’s slang substitute for “aimer” (to like or love).

“Inch’Allah” (Inshallah), with Algerian raï singer Reda Taliani. GCM didn’t do this one at the concert but I’m posting it anyway, pourquoi pas?

So it was a good concert! I’m glad I bought the tix, even if one was wasted. As for the friends who declined my generous invitation: Your loss! Tant pis pour toi! I was disappointed, however, that GCM only performed for around an hour and 45 minutes, which seemed short to me. Cf. Bruce Springsteen, who went for 2 hours 52 minutes last May, and Taylor Swift, who regularly goes for 3 hours, as in her Eras Tour concert movie (disclosure: I’m a Swiftie, and a 68-year-old male one at that). But a friend and my daughter told me that an hour-and-a-half to two hours is par for the course, and that the marathon concerts of The Boss and Taylor are the exception, not the rule. D’accord, si vous le dites.

2024 Oscars

Voilà my annual Oscars post, for the tenth year running (excepting the two pandemic years). The list of nominees is here. I managed to see all of the films nominated in the top categories, most in the theater, the rest on the small screen chez moi. As my February 23 post on the French Césars—that ceremony always preceding the Oscars—ended up over 5000 words, which is ridiculously long, this one will be short and to the point. I will simply state what I thought I of the movie, and rank-order the ten Best Picture nominees.

BEST PICTURE: The Holdovers (curiously titled ‘Winter Break’ in France).
This was my favorite movie of the lot. I liked everything about it: the story, the acting, early 1970s setting, the soundtrack, you name it. High quality, feel good entertainment for the art house crowd. The fact of the matter is, every film that Alexander Payne has directed has been good to excellent. He has never disappointed, and I’ve seen them all.

In second place is Anatomy of a Fall, which I discussed in my Césars post (voting it Best Film, which it of course won). As it’s a French film and with not a single American cast member, I don’t know why it’s nominated in this category and not in Best International Film. Following close behind is American Fiction, which I saw just two days ago (on Amazon Prime, as it was not commercially released in France for some reason). The first half hour of the pic is hilarious, a spot-on parody of the way “woke” white people in America—bleeding heart liberals, as they used to be called—think about and talk to black people. The gag pretty much holds for the whole two hours, though one can guess how the story is going to play out (except for the ending). Fine acting and a good movie all around. As for the depiction of the black bourgeois family in the film, I will leave it to members of that segment of the American bourgeoisie to weigh in on.

Oppenheimer: What to say about it? It’s a tour de force and which held my undivided attention for its entire three hours—and any movie of that length that can do that I will automatically score a 4.0 (very good) on the Allociné scale. But as a biopic it also has to be judged as to how accurately it depicts both the protagonist and historical epoch. On this, I did not have a tremendous amount to say about the film afterward. I was generally familiar with the history to 1945 and Robert Oppenheimer’s role in the Manhattan Project, but less so of what happened to him after the war—and on this I was not alone among US friends, more than one of whom purchased Kai Bird & Martin Sherwin’s magnum opus after seeing the pic. One criticism of the film, so I read, is that it does not show the victims of Oppenheimer’s œuvre at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but I don’t consider that to be a flaw, as no one in America at the time saw images of the two devastated cities (there was no CNN or Al Jazeera to broadcast images to the world) and the Fourth Geneva Conventions were in the future. On the personal side, I saw the movie last July at the Oriental Theatre in Milwaukee, Wisconsin: the movie theater of my childhood and one of the few surviving movie palaces in the country. As for Paris, the greatest city in the world for cinema, there’s Le Louxor but which doesn’t hold a candle to the Oriental.

Nice place to see a movie, n’est-ce pas?

Following ‘Oppenheimer’—which will most certainly win Best Picture—is the powerful and chilling The Zone of Interest. In lieu of offering my unoriginal 2¢ on the pic—the Banality of Evil, etc—I will refer the reader to the savant analyses of two of France’s preeminent scholars of Nazi Germany and the Holocaust, Tal Bruttmann and Johann Chapoutot, which are more sophisticated than AWAV’s could ever be.

Past Lives was considered by more than a few to be one of the best movies of the year, if not the best. I won’t go so far. I don’t have a story precisely like the one of the two childhood friends in the film but as one who grew up in the pre-Internet era—when it was easy to lose touch with people—moved around a lot, and reconnected well into adulthood with female friends from my past, I have been in situations that are somewhat comparable. On this score, the interaction of the two friends when they meet in New York did not resonate with me—and the jealous reaction of the American husband did not at all. I recognize that people are different but I have never felt threatened when meeting an old flame of my wife from decades past (and vice-versa BTW).

Killers of the Flower Moon: I have it on good authority that the book is great. A page-turner. As for the bloated, interminable, three-and-a-half-hour movie: Bof. Meh. It’s the kind of movie you can nod off during and not feel you missed anything. Other than that, it’s not too bad.

Barbie: I found it mildly entertaining—and always like looking at Margot Robbie—but otherwise had no opinion on it. The mega-blockbuster of a summer movie that provoked heated debate among feminists and all sorts of other people—N.B. I saw it in the US; I don’t know what was being said in France—and over which barrels of virtual ink were spilled: and I had nothing in particular to say. Rien. Nada. And the various reviews, analyses, and polemics I read did not rouse me out of my critical torpor. The friend with whom I saw it—a late Boomer who grew up with Barbies and other dolls, and who didn’t like it the pic—submitted that one had to have played with dolls, i.e. to have been a girl, to weigh in on the film in an informed manner. I’ll go with that. The reaction to ‘Barbie’ on Fox News is amusing 🤣😂🤣

Maestro: Bradley Cooper conducting Mahler’s “Resurrection” Symphony No. 2 (which I could not have identified before seeing the pic) was impressive. I do remember Leonard Bernstein from my childhood—he had a high media profile in the 1960s—but knew little about him. Apart from the aforementioned scene, I don’t have much to say about the film, which only partly held my attention. It was, however, infinitely more watchable than Yorgos Lanthimos’s Poor Things, which—and I know I’m in a small minority on this—I positively hated. Once it descended into fantasy—not my favorite genre—I knew I was in for 2+ hours of cinematic torture. If I hadn’t had my smartphone to distract me—strategically seated in the last row so as not to disturb anyone—and after taking a short nap, I would have quit the salle early.

BEST DIRECTOR: Christopher Nolan for ‘Oppenheimer’.
Of course.

BEST ACTOR: Paul Giamatti in ‘The Holdovers’.
All the nominees are meritorious. I enjoyed Rustin, an overdue, if flawed biopic on one of the civil rights movement’s major, albeit underappreciated personalities. I can’t say if Colman Domingo’s character—who was out of the closet in his homosexuality—faithfully personified Bayard Rustin. I’ll come back to this subject.

BEST ACTRESS: Carey Mulligan in ‘Maestro’.
I loved Carey Mulligan in the 2011 movie Drive, and as she was not nominated for that or has won an Oscar for anything, I vote for her here. I normally love Annette Benning too, and she has never won an Oscar either, but for some reason I did not care for her in Nyad.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR: Robert Downey Jr. in ‘Oppenheimer’.
Whatever. I have no opinion on this category.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Da’Vine Joy Randolph in ‘The Holdovers’.
This seems kind of obvious. Danielle Brooks is good in The Color Purple. I am a lifelong fan of Jodie Foster, but, as with Annette Benning, I didn’t like her too much in ‘Nyad’.

BEST INTERNATIONAL FEATURE FILM: Io Capitano & The Teachers’ Lounge ex æquo.
Two terrific films. The others are also first-rate: Wim Wenders’ Perfect Days, Society of the Snow, and, of course, The Zone of Interest (which will almost surely win). I will come back to this category when I update the post.

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE FILM: 20 Days in Mariupol.
Completely and totally.

2024 César awards

The ceremony is this evening, at the hallowed Olympia hall (on Boulevard des Capucines, in the 9th arrondissement), the Césars offering AWAV the occasion, now for the tenth year running, to write about the French films of the previous year that were considered to be the best by the French film industry (though not necessarily by AWAV). 2023 was not a bad year for French movies, though only one made the AWAV Top 10; and while all five films in the Honorable Mention category were French, only one was nominated for a César. The list of nominees is here (et en français ici). Those that received multiple nominations are here. I saw most of the films—in the theater or on VOD—in the categories I weigh in on. So here goes.

BEST FILM: Anatomie d’une chute (Anatomy of a Fall).
The best French film of the year, in my book at least (see below), was not nominated in this category, and this one was sort of a coin-toss. Everyone who at all follows cinema has heard about ‘Anatomie’, if they haven’t already seen it, what with its impressive list of accolades, among them the Palme d’Or at Cannes, 5 Oscar nominations, and 11 for these Césars, including Best Director (Justine Triet), Actress (Sandra Hüller), Supporting Actor (Swann Arlaud & Antoine Reinartz), and Most Promising Actor (Milo Machado-Graner). It’s an engaging thriller—and riveting at moments (e.g. the kitchen quarrel scene, heard but not seen)—and on several levels: marital discord stoked by infidelity and professional jealousy (and with a cross-cultural couple who speak with one another in neither’s native language), a whodunit involving a possible murder, and a courtroom drama (a new sub-genre in French cinema). And the acting is first-rate. That said, the pic did not blow me away. I would say it’s very good (4.0 on the Allociné 5-star scale) but not a chef d’œuvre, as many have pronounced it to be. As for the court verdict at the end—murder or suicide?—I think it’s obvious [no spoilers].

The coin-toss was with that other courtroom drama, Cédric Kahn’s riveting Le Procès Goldman (The Goldman Case). This one, which takes place almost entirely in the courtroom, is a reenactment of the 1975 trial of Pierre Goldman, which gripped France at the time—and cleaved public opinion down the left-right divide—but is receding into the memory hole (far more Frenchmen and women nowadays know Pierre’s younger half-brother, the great and hugely popular pop music singer Jean-Jacques Goldman). Pierre Goldman (Arieh Worthalter, Best Actor nominee) was a 1960s far-left militant who descended into criminality—for the revolution, of course—was charged with the 1969 murder of two Paris pharmacists during a hold-up, tried, and sentenced in 1974 to life in prison. He admitted committing the robbery but denied the murders, and was tried a second time on appeal. The parents of both Goldman and his high-profile left-wing lawyer, Georges Kiejman (Arthur Harari, Best Supporting Actor nominee) were Polish Jewish communist immigrants and whose life experiences deeply marked the two men, Goldman’s having fought in the Resistance with the Communist-dominated immigrant group FTP-MOI, led by Missak Manouchian (who, in a national ceremony, is being interred in the Pantheon literally as I write these words), Kiejman and his mother surviving the war and deportation by hiding in a village in the Berry but his father perishing in Auschwitz. The trial was a rowdy affair, with Goldman angrily denying that he had committed murder—N.B. France still sent convicted murderers to the guillotine at the time—addressing the prosecutor in provocative language—against the counsel of Maître Keijman—and using the witness stand to accuse the prosecution and the police of racism—to the whoops and cheers of the POCs in the packed courtroom audience—and antisemitism—France having just begun to reckon with its dark recent past in this regard. Goldman was acquitted, of course, and one does come away convinced that, despite being an avowed voyou, he was indeed innocent of the murder charge. Right-wingers, who believed that he got away with murder, exacted their macabre retribution, as Goldman was assassinated on a Paris street in 1979, gunned down by hitmen who were never formally identified, though there is little doubt that they were from the far-right. The bottom line on the pic: it is a must-see for lefties of all stripes and generations, from Boomers to Zoomers and those before and in-between. It may also be seen by non-lefties, of course. Pourquoi pas?

Thomas Cailley’s Le Règne animal (The Animal Kingdom) was a surprise hit, both critically and at the box office (the word-of-mouth was strong), garnering 12 César nominations, including Best Actor (Romain Duris) and Most Promising Actor (Paul Kircher). It’s a mix of adventure, drama, and fantasy/sci-fi, about a mysterious virus, or something, that is causing humans—not many but enough—to partly mutate into animals: sprouting wings and beaks, or growing fur and fangs, or tentacles and iridescent scales, and the like, but with their minds intact. Society is naturally panicked and with states (here, the French) quarantining the mutants while scientists frantically try to find the cause of the mutations and develop a remedy (N.B. the film was shot during the COVID-19 pandemic). The story begins in Paris, with François (Duris) & teenage son Emile (Kircher), who are trying to visit their wife/mother, who, having mutated (apparently into a half wolf), is in quarantine, and the doctors, typically providing little information, telling them that it won’t be possible, but with François & Emile learning that she is in fact being transferred, along with other mutants, to a reservation in the Landes de Gascogne (down past Bordeaux). So they hightail it down there, where, upon arrival, they learn that there had been an accident in the convoy that was transporting the mutants, with the latter all escaping into the forest. François then decides that they’ll move there, to a house in the forest, he getting a restaurant job in the nearby town—where there is fear of lurking mutants—and Emile going to school, while they search for their wife/mother in the forest, but which is off limits while the army combs the area to capture mutants—or kill them. Emile—who has caught the mutant virus, which he is trying to stave off and conceal—braves the interdiction and descends into the forest to find maman, befriends a man-bird, who is trying to fly away and escape the soldiers who are coming for him. And the story builds up to the denouement. Message: mutating humans, who are becoming animals, nonetheless maintain their humanity, while non-mutating full humans—who are hunting for the mutants—behave like animals. It’s good, high quality entertainment, made with the budget of a French art et essai movie. A Hollywood remake, with an A-list cast, budget into the nine figures, and the requisite special effects, is sure to come.

I went to see Jeanne Herry’s Je verrai toujours vos visages (All Your Faces) knowing nothing about it apart from its stellar rating on Allociné—both critics and audiences (N.B. I don’t read reviews before seeing a film)—and stellar, star-studded ensemble cast, including Leïla Bekhti, Élodie Bouchez, Adèle Exarchopoulos, Miou-Miou—all four Best Supporting Actress nominees—Jean-Pierre Darroussin, Gilles Lellouche, Denis Podalydès, and Raphaël Quenard. A-listers all. The subject of the film is restorative justice—which I can’t say I knew much about beforehand—and the group therapy sessions that are involved. As I saw it almost a year ago, the details are not fresh in my mind, so I will simply say that it’s a very good film and an acting tour de force. The trailer gives a good idea.

I was a little surprised to see Jean-Baptiste Durand’s Chien de la casse (Junkyard Dog) nominated in this category. Not that it’s not good, which it is, but it’s what one calls a petit film, mainly seen by hardcore cinephiles (ergo, hardly anyone; and indeed, barely 100K tix were sold for this one). The pic was nominated for six other Césars as well, including Best Supporting Actor (Anthony Bajon), Best Supporting Actress (Galatéa Bellugi)—neither of these really deserved—and Most Promising Actor (Raphaël Quenard). It’s set in a village in Languedoc—in the Hérault, to be precise, a corner of France I know fairly well—which looks to city folk like it would be a nice place to grow up but where there are no jobs and not a damn thing to do. The protags, Mirales (Quenard) and Dog (Bajon), are village homeboys in their early 20s, who spend their days hanging out and not doing much of anything. They’re inseparable childhood friends but are also polar opposites: Mirales is cocky, full of himself, and with a strong, domineering personality, whereas Dog is low key and self-effacing. Their otherwise solid friendship is, however, upended when Dog meets Elsa (Bellugi), a graduate student in literature at the university in nearby Montpellier, who has moved to the village to save on rent. So Dog falls in love with Elsa—who is more educated and worldly than anyone he has ever met—with Mirales, seeing that his best friend is slipping away, flipping out and barely able to conceal his jealousy, but which prompts him to make something of his own life. It’s a good film and also an interesting one, in that it highlights the condition of young people in rural and periurban France, who are afflicted with many of the same problems and pathologies as les jeunes in the post-colonial immigrant-populated banlieues, who, cinematically-speaking, have received considerably more attention in recent years (N.B. While the main characters in this film are “white,” there are immigrants from the African continent in the village—as there are throughout rural France—and who live in public housing projects). A note on the film’s title, “chien de la casse”: this is a slang expression, new to me, meaning “a vindictive, unscrupulous or aggressive person.” I’m not sure if the English title corresponds to this.

BEST DIRECTOR: Thomas Cailley for ‘Le Règne animal’.
All the directors of the above excepting Jean-Baptiste Durand were nominated in this category. ‘Le Règne animal’ was surely the most complex to direct.

BEST ACTOR: Romain Duris in ‘Le Règne animal’.
He’s a great actor, has been nominated for Césars six times over the past 24 years, but never won, so should get this one. Arieh Worthalter in ‘Le Procès Goldman’ and Melvil Poupaud’ in ‘L’Amour et les forêts’ (see below) are meritorious. Benjamin Lavernhe is a fine actor and is no doubt tops in the Abbé Pierre biopic, but I missed it. As for Raphaël Quenard in Quentin Dupieux’s Yannick, this is a curious nomination, as he has also been nominated for Most Promising Actor in ‘Chien de la casse’, discussed above. In Yannick, which is a stage play about a stage play—taking place entirely in a theater—Quenard plays the same cheeky, loudmouthed working class alpha male as in ‘Chien,’ here a Parisian (more likely a banlieuesard) named Yannick who, for some reason, schleps a certain distance on his day off work to attend a third-rate théâtre de boulevard play and, finding it indeed third-rate, interrupts the thing halfway through to tell the surprised actors on the stage—Pio Marmaï (Best Supporting Actor nominee) and Blanche Gardin—that it’s a shitty play and how they can make it better, who respond by telling him to fuck off and get the hell out, with him riposting by pulling a gun and ordering the actors to execute his modifications. The utter passivity of the (sparse) audience in the face of this uncouth énergumène, and who has taken them hostage to boot, defies credulity, but apart from that the film, thankfully a short 65-minutes long, is amusing enough.

BEST ACTRESS: Virginie Efira in L’Amour et les Forêts (Just the Two of Us).
Three things. First, this is a very strong category, with all five nominees absolutely excellent. Second, all five of the films were directed by women, which is likely a first anywhere. Third, I’m going with Virginie Efira, as I love her (as an actress; don’t know her personally) and considered Valérie Donzelli’s ‘L’Amour et les Fôrets’ to be the nº 1 French film of the year. In short, it’s a love story that turns into an edge-of-your-seat psychological thriller. Efira’s character, Blanche, a lycée teacher in Normandy, meets Grégoire (Melvil Poupaud, Best Actor nominee), they fall passionately in love, get married, their love seems only to grow in intensity, he tells her that he is being transferred by his job to Metz, and with her willingly agreeing to move to faraway Lorraine, away from family and friends, and to where she knows no one—which enables Grégoire, who lied about his job transfer, to reveal the reality of his personality: as a pathologically jealous narcissist who seeks total domination over Blanche and allows her no independence. The man she loved turned out to be something else altogether and her love story becomes a nightmare, and with the ever-present threat of violence. We’ve all known women who have been in relationships with men like that.

The shoe finds itself on the other foot with Hafsia Herzi in Iris Kaltenbäck’s Le Ravissement (The Rapture), where the always excellent Herzi—another French actress whom I hold in high esteem—plays a sage-femme (midwife) named Lydia, who is thoroughly invested in her work but is going through a rough patch after breaking up with her BF. She has a one-night stand with a bus driver, Milos (Alexis Manenti), met in the middle of the night, which is not destined to go anywhere. But when she delivers the baby of her BFF, Salomé, who is in a stable relationship and will now have less time to spend with Lydia, jealousy rears its head. Lydia then decides to pursue something with Milos, who is not interested, so she concocts a scheme whereby she informs Milos that she is pregnant from their one-nighter and is keeping the baby, which he absolutely does not want, and her scheme involving caring for Salomé’s baby during the day and passing it off as hers to Milos, and faking the DNA test that he demands. Milos’s resistance crumbles under the cajoling of his Serbian immigrant family, with his mother so happy to be a grandmother, so he assumes his responsibility as a father and to be a loving one at that. But Lydia’s scheme inevitably falls apart and with the lie revealed. So yes, men can also find themselves trapped by women with pathologies (cf. ‘Fatal Attraction’).

Léa Drucker may or may not be a victim of a man—or, rather, a boy—in L’Été dernier (Last Summer), the latest film by the edgy Catherine Breillat (Best Director nominee). I was initially not interested in seeing this one, as the theme was kind of creepy, but finally did on the recommendation of my cinephile GP, whose cinematic tastes I trust. And he was right, it’s quite good. In a nutshell, Anne (Drucker), who’s around 50, is a lawyer in Brittany who specializes in defending women in sexual abuse cases, is happily married to businessman Pierre, with whom she lives the comfortable bourgeois life with their two eight-year-old adopted twin daughters. Pierre clearly loves Anne and, as one gathers, their sex life is robust, though it looks like he works 80 hours a week, so is often not around. But then Pierre’s 17-year-old son from a previous marriage, Theo (Samuel Kircher, Most Promising Actor nominee), who has been in boarding school in Switzerland, comes to live with them. Theo is surly, rude, and rebellious, holding intense anger toward his father, who has clearly neglected him in the course of his childhood. And his attitude is likewise directed at Anne, his step-mother, who counters the hostility by setting out to reconcile him with his father, to tame him, so he can fully integrate into the family. To this end, Anne starts spending time with Theo, who is cheeky and full of himself—and is also good looking, strutting around the garden bare-chested, and bringing home casual girlfriends for sleepovers. The boy is no virgin. So while they’re together one afternoon, one thing leads to another and they end up going all the way. Doing the deed. Anne tells Theo that it was a mistake, that it will not and cannot happen again. But it does, as Anne, who knows she’s playing with fire, does not find unpleasant Theo’s attention in this regard. The scenes are steamy—and would certainly earn the film an NC-17 rating in the US—but are fairly tame compared to some of Breillat’s previous ones. After the second time, Anne firmly tells Theo that it must stop and that he must keep the secret, otherwise disaster will befall the family. But Theo is an emotionally immature, disturbed adolescent who cannot be trusted on anything. I will say nothing more about the movie except that how one feels about it hinges on one’s interpretation of the final scene. I initially interpreted it one way, causing me to lower my assessment of the film, but changed my mind, revising my assessment upward (4.0 on the Allociné scale: very good)

Marion Cotillard is a great actress and her performance in Mona Achache’s docu-fiction Little Girl Blue is a tour de force. That’s as much as I will say about this one, as I admittedly slept through part of it, so can’t offer a serious evaluation of the pic, except that I did not feel that it was something I needed to see again. It also confirmed once again that Marion Cotillard is one great actress. As for what it’s about, the trailer tells you what you need to know; and if you’re Francophone, the interviews on France Inter and C à vous.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR: Pio Marmaï in ‘Yannick’.
Swann Arlaud and Antoine Reinartz, the lawyer and prosecutor, respectively, in ‘Anatomie’, are also meritorious.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Leïla Bekhti in ‘Je verrai toujours vos visages’.
The other actresses in this film are also worthy, particularly Adèle Exarchopoulos, though I have a soft spot for Leïla B.

MOST PROMISING ACTOR: Raphaël Quenard in ‘Chien de la casse’.
His performance overwhelms those of the other nominees.

MOST PROMISING ACTRESS: Rebecca Marder in De Grandes espérances (Grand Expectations).
This is another strong category, four of the five nominees being particularly good. And three of the actresses play young women of modest social class origins who gain admission into one of France’s elite establishments of higher education: the grandes écoles—and the most prestigious ones at that—where students hailing from the subaltern classes are few and admission is exclusively by exam: written (no multiple choice) and oral, which favors candidates from highly educated families. In ‘De Grandes espérances’, a riveting political thriller and the best of the five films, Madeleine (Rebecca Marder), is from a disadvantaged background but thanks to hard work and luck, attends elitist Sciences Po Paris and, with diploma in hand, she and her upper bourgeois fiancé, Antoine (Benjamin Lavernhe), are preparing to sit the concours (entrance exam) for the Uber-elitist ENA. They are also both on the left and with political ambitions, particularly Madeleine, who is already a policy aide to a high-profile Socialist party deputy and former government minister, Gabrielle (Emmanuelle Bercot), and friend of Antoine’s family. Madeleine & Antoine are the power couple in the making. But while in Corsica at the posh summer home of Antoine’s family, where they have holed away to cram for the ENA concours, the two get into an altercation on a back country road with a local inhabitant—an avoidable incident provoked by Antoine and with Madeleine coming to his defense—and tragedy ensuing—and that would wreck the career and political ambitions of both—or maybe just one of them—if their pact of secrecy about the incident were broken. And it is, with one betraying the other. No spoilers but guess who pays the price: the rich kid or the not rich kid? Very good movie.

Ella Rumpf in Le Théorème de Marguerite (Marguerite’s Theorem) is a brilliant 25-year-old student named Marguerite, as the title suggests, who is pursuing a doctorate in mathematics at the ultra-elitist École Normale Supérieure (the one on the Rue d’Ulm, in Paris’ 5th arrondissement). In addition to her provincial non-bourgeois origins, she is the only woman in her class, though is not at all intimidated by her hyper-competitive male peers. Like other mathematical geniuses, she lives in her head, is lacking in social skills, pays little attention to her personal appearance, has no time for parties or boyfriends (she’s had sex maybe twice in her life), as there are equations to solve. Presenting her doctoral thesis before a packed auditorium of Normale Sup mathematicians, she sets out to solve one of the great mathematical riddles of the past century, which will surely earn her the Fields Medal, and likely a future Nobel Prize, but then a fellow student, and seconded by Marguerite’s thesis director, the eminent Dr. Werner (Jean-Pierre Darroussin), points out what looks to be a small error in the charabia on the blackboard (an X that should be a Y, or something like that), but that invalidates the proof, thereby causing her thesis to collapse like a house of cards. Stunned and speechless, Marguerite flees the auditorium, is dumped by Dr. Werner, and announces, to the regret of peers and professors alike, that she is quitting the program and dropping out of school altogether. With no immediate idea of what to do with herself, she begins to experience life as lived by those her age with few skills or networks—shared flats away from Paris’s beaux quartiers, low wage retail jobs, bars and partying—but then discovers mah-jongg from her Chinese landlord and, being the genius, makes a lucrative living in the clandestine gambling dens of the 13th arrondissement’s Chinatown (where she is absolutely the only woman). Advised that making money in this way—undeclared to the fisc and frequenting people she really shouldn’t be—is not a good idea, and unable to quit math, she reconnects with one of her nicer Normale Sup peers, Lucas (Julien Frison, Most Promising Actor nominee), the two work together on her thesis problem—naturally developing sentiments toward one another in the process—she cracks the riddle, races off to a mathematics congress in Lausanne, attended by the leading lights of the discipline. Uninvited, she crashes the plenary session, takes over a blackboard, proceeds, before the slack-jawed audience, to demonstrate her resolution of one of the great mathematical mysteries of our era, and [spoiler alert!] happy ending! The pic was well-reviewed in France and an audience-pleaser among those who saw it, who were no doubt disproportionately the bac+5 and above crowd. And the math one sees in the film was indeed for real, as one learns that Ariane Mézard of the CNRS, and professor of mathematics at the Sorbonne and Normale Sup, was the scientific adviser to the film’s director Anne Novion, working with her and Ella Rumpf for some four years. Reviews among the few US critics who saw it were mixed, however, criticizing the pic for being by-the-numbers, cliché-riddled, and unoriginal (cf. ‘The Queen’s Gambit’, ‘A Beautiful Mind’, ‘Good Will Hunting’). Perhaps. But I liked it. It’s an engaging, (admittedly) feel-good film. Solid entertainment for the Bac+5 & 8 cohort.

Brilliant young women was clearly a thing in French movies last year. In La Voie royale (The Path of Excellence), Suzanne Jouannet plays a math and science whiz named Sophie, who lives on the family farm in the general vicinity of Lyon. A high school senior destined for higher education, her parents want her to study agronomy, which will help in the running of the farm when she eventually inherits it. The farm looks to be prosperous but, as we know and are being reminded daily, farmers have to go deeply into debt and work almost 24/7 just to keep their heads above water. But Sophie is steered by a teacher toward a classe préparatoire (prépa, for short), the highly selective post-baccalaureate two-year course of study—equivalent to an undergraduate degree—that prepares students to sit the concours for one of the grandes écoles. So Sophie is admitted to the math-science prépa, as a boarder, at Lyon’s venerable (fictitious) Lycée Descartes (all classes prépas are housed in lycées), where the students are informed at orientation that they will, for all intents and purposes, be signing their lives away for two years, studying seven days a week, all the time, including Saturday nights. This is true: the work load in the high-pressure, ruthlessly competitive prépas is brutal. There is surely no course of study in any educational system outside East Asia where students work as hard as in the French classes préparatoires. What a way to spend your late teen years😒. So Sophie, who’s more of a normal young woman than Marguerite (above)—though maybe a little less brilliant and sure of herself—integrates into the culture of the school, with its stuck-up rich kids and stupid hazing rites, and announces that her goal is to pass the concours for the École Polytechnique (familiarly known as L’X), the most elitist of elitist grandes écoles (e.g. it has been said since the 1980s that anyone who shows up in Silicon Valley with a diploma from the École Polytechnique is hired on the spot, no interview necessary). Sophie’s wish provoked incredulity among her teachers and peers, as it is really, really hard to get into L’X and she was already struggling, obtaining mediocre grades at best. Like Marguerite, she breaks down one day, flees in the middle of an exam, quits the program, and returns to the farm defeated. But after long days spent slopping the hogs and shoveling manure, she decides to hit the books and prepare to sit the L’X concours, all on her own—something that never happens. And so she returns to the Lycée Descartes on the big day—to the astonishment and skepticism of all—takes the exam, and, well, we know how the movie will end. The jeune et jolie Suzanne Jouannet is good: she makes the movie, which is otherwise by-the-numbers, cliché-riddled, and predictable (I rated it 3.0 on Allociné: okay/not bad). It may be seen on the small screen at home but is not worth going out of one’s way for.

This is the second time that the talented Céleste Brunnquell has been nominated in this category, the first in 2020 for her role, for which I pronounced her a no-brainer to win (she didn’t), in the excellent film ‘Les Éblouis’ (The Dazzled). In La Fille de son père (No Love Lost), she’s a 17-year-old budding artist named Rosa, raised by her single father in the Île-de-France, her mother having vanished when she was a baby (abandoning her and her father with no explanation, which he never got over). She and her father have a fusional relationship, with he more dependent on her than she on him. There’s a story, obviously, which one may read about here. It’s a low-key dramedy, not too bad, but which didn’t stay with me. That’s as much as I have to say about it.

The one nominee who is less good IMHO is Kim Higelin in Vanessa Filho’s Le Consentement (Consent), the screen adaptation of Vanessa Springora’s bombshell 2020 accounttranslated into English in short order—of her four-year sexual relationship, beginning in 1986, at age 14, with the well-known writer Gabriel Metzneff, 36 years her senior, who was a respected man-about-town in the Paris literary world, and whose pedophilia was not only common knowledge among the Left Bank literati and other germanopratins but which Metzneff wrote about in detail in his novels and published essays at the time. Not having read the book, I can’t compare it to the movie, which conveys well the sordidness of the whole affair. I did, however, find Kim Higelin miscast in the role of Vanessa Springora—not that I have any idea what the latter was like—who was supposed to be 14 in the film but looks more like a 12-year-old, and a timid, frightened one at that, which I had a hard time believing (Ms. Higelin looks young for her age, as she was 22-23 when the film was shot). I did not find her character credible, or the behavior of her mother (played by Laetitia Casta). It was a most unpleasant film to watch; entre autres, one wants to commit acts of extreme violence against the Metzneff character (played by Jean-Paul Rouve, who is impeccably cast) throughout, to make the SOB suffer. The pic looked to be bombing at the box office when it opened last October, but was unexpectedly rescued by masses of teenagers who, learning about it via word-of-mouth on TikTok, flocked to the theaters during mid-autumn vacation. Va savoir.

BEST FIRST FILM: Le Ravissement (The Rapture), by Iris Kaltenbäck.
I’ve seen four of the five nominees and all are worthy winners, though I vote for ‘Le Ravissement’ (admittedly because it stars Hafsia Herzi). Closely behind, ex-æquo in fact, is Léa Domench’s Bernadette, a sort of biopic, but not really, of France’s First Lady from 1995 to 2007, with the increvable Catherine Deneuve impeccably cast in the lead role. It’s a light comedy, that takes us through recent French political history, beginning with the aftermath of the 1988 presidential election, as seen through the fictitious eyes of Bernadette Chirac (presently 90 years of age), who was a public personality in her own right and one of the most popular in public opinion, and particularly on the right. The movie is, as one reads in the opening credits, loosely inspired by actual events, so much of what one sees may or may not have happened, or unfolded as depicted, and particularly moments of the Chirac family, with Jacques, Claude, and Laurence. I quite enjoyed the film and identifying the various personalities; the casting choices were pretty good, though apart from Deneuve, Sara Giraudeau (as Claude Chirac), and Denis Podalydès (Bernard Niquet, Bernadette’s chief-of-staff), I was not at all familiar with the individual members of the cast. Whatever the cast, though, if one is not familiar with French politics of the period or with the many personalities, the film will pass over one’s head.

Stéphan Castang’s wild-and-crazy Vincent doit mourir (Vincent Must Die) is a comedy-drama-fantasy-thriller that becomes a downright horror movie. Protag Vincent (Karim Leklou) is a regular schlump of a guy with an office job who is, one day at work, suddenly and brutally assaulted by an intern for no apparent reason. And then it happens again by another co-worker. And then by random people on the street, and by neighbor children in his building. Living in terror, he learns, thanks to Google, that he has been afflicted with a virus, or something—who knows?—that causes any person (or dog or cat) with whom he makes eye contact to suddenly and violently (and violence there is) attack him. And he further learns, via social media sites, that he’s not alone, that there are others out there who have his condition, who are living the same nightmare, whose worlds have become a Night of the Living Dead on steroids. While they offer one another advice, probably on the dark web, on how to isolate themselves from society, they cannot meet and form a community, as they might start attacking one another. But avoiding all human contact is kind of hard. So late one night Vincent meets, outside a seedy roadside restaurant, a waitress named Margaux (Vimala Pons), who, taking a liking to him, jumps in the car. He tells her that they must not make eye contact but, as she’s rather attractive, that’s easier said than done. And feelings inevitably develop, so he has to keep her handcuffed. That’s as much as I’ll say about the pic except that it’s original and quite good. A French horror film for the art house set.

I did not see Sébastien Vaniček’s Vermines (Vermin), as it’s about spiders: outsized mutant spiders, the existence of which causes an apartment building and its tenants to be quarantined, all while the mega spiders hatch and proliferate. Lovely. The film, which premiered at the Venice Film Festival—so is a priori not downmarket dreck—apparently has a social theme—one that will resonate with progressive movie-goers—and it did receive good reviews. Another horror movie for the art house set. If it wins this or some other award, I’ll see it. But otherwise…

Jean-Baptiste Durand’s ‘Chien de la casse’ (Junkyard Dog), discussed above, is also nominated in this category. As it received seven total nominations, including Best Film, I won’t be surprised if it wins this one.

UPDATE: The list of winners as here. I got two of eleven.

Jacques Delors, R.I.P.

The French nation paid homage to him yesterday, in a ceremony at the Hôtel des Invalides. Emmanuel Macron naturally delivered the eulogy (which I tuned out, as did no doubt many others who were watching) and with Socialist old-timers from the Mitterrand years, among others, in attendance. Jacques Delors was one of the most consequential French political figures of the past forty years (certainly in the top 5, if not top 3), on account of his two terms as President of the European Commission (1985-95)—by far the most consequential Commission president ever—during which his action was guided by the higher interests of Europe—of advancing the project of European integration—but which were perfectly congruent with those of France. Without Monsieur Delors, the single currency, i.e. the euro, would have likely not seen the light of day. Putting aside debates over the (German-dictated) architecture of the single currency, it is hard to argue that France, in view of the state of its public finances, would have been better off with the franc rather than the euro. And thanks to Delors we have Schengen and the Erasmus program, both incontestably good things for France and Europe (and, speaking personally, with the Erasmus experience impacting positively on the life trajectory of my daughter).

The only governmental post Delors held in France was his three year stint (1981-84) as Minister of the Economy and Finance during François Mitterrand’s first term, but he was hugely consequential here as well, as the inspiration behind the 1983 tournant de la rigueur: persuading President Mitterrand to radically shift course in macroeconomic policy, away from Keynesianism and toward prioritizing combating inflation, i.e. adopting what came to be called “neoliberalism.” Whether or not this was a good or necessary thing at the time—a good part of the French left, including in the Socialist party itself, think not—is not a particularly interesting question IMHO, as it’s all water under the bridge and with the neoliberal turn the consequence of tectonic shifts in the global economy that France could have hardly resisted. If there had been no tournant de la rigueur and Mitterrand had replaced Delors with, say, Jean-Pierre Chevènement at the Rue de Rivoli, the left would have likely lost the 1986 legislative elections by an even wider margin than it did, and with the right doing the dirty work.

Delors, as we know, was seen as the left’s savior for the 1995 presidential election—the PS was ready to hand the candidacy to him on a silver platter—but he famously declined to run (everyone was riveted to his interview on Anne Sinclair’s show on that December 1994 Sunday evening). He didn’t want the job. Could he have outperformed Lionel Jospin’s 47% in the 1995 second round, even defeating Jacques Chirac? Many think so but I doubt it. It’s hard to imagine the social-liberal practicing Catholic Delors leading the French left at that time. Or since. But whatever.

Delors’s English-language biographer, Charles Grant, who is director of the indispensable Centre for European Reform in London—indispensable as a source of information, research, and analysis on the European Union—discussed Delors’s legacy in Financial Times columnist Gideon Rachman’s podcast last Thursday. Grant also has a lengthy “Ten Reflections on Jacques Delors” on the CER website, which begins: “Jacques Delors’ impact on history, especially during the ten years that he headed the European Commission, was immense. He was the father of the European single market, while the euro would not have been created, in the way it was, when it was, without him.” Le Monde has translated for its English edition its editorial on Delors’s passing, “The dual legacy of Jacques Delors.” The lede: “The course charted by the former president of the European Commission remains relevant today, as the deceptive winds of narrow nationalism prepare to sweep through the European elections in June 2024.”

The European elections in June… 😨

Best (and worst) movies of 2023

It’s that time of the year, for AWAV’s annual list, now for the 14th year running (for last year’s, go here), of movies seen that opened theatrically in 2023 in France or the United States (plus the few on Netflix). As usual, I saw a lot of movies this year on the wide screen, probably too many as usual, but also missed quite a few that I bookmarked on Allociné (“envie de voir”), including, e.g., the four movies from Iran that opened in Paris this year. As usual, three or four movies a week, sometimes more, open to good reviews—a number of which do not make it to the United States—and look sufficiently interesting, so though I can’t see everything I do try to see two or three a week. If one is wondering about the monetary side of this, between cinema passes and senior discounts, tix cost me between €4.50 and €6.50 a pop (rarely more). Cf. the United States, where I paid as much as $18 to see a movie during one of my trips this year.

TOP 10:
About Dry Grasses (Kuru Otlar Üstüne)
Captain Volkonogov Escaped (Капитан Волконогов бежал)
Just the Two of Us (L’Amour et les forêts)
Next Sohee (다음 소희)
Tár
Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour
The Banshees of Inisherin
The Blue Caftan (القفطان الأزرق)
The Holdovers
The Quiet Girl (An Cailín Ciúin)

HONORABLE MENTION:
After the Fire (Avant que les flammes ne s’éteignent)
All to Play For (Rien à perdre)
Les Indésirables (Bâtiment 5)
Slumlord (Le Marchand de sable)
The Rapture (Le Ravissement)

BEST MOVIE FROM JAPAN:
Monster (L’Innocence 怪物)

BEST COMEDY FROM JAPAN:
The Asadas (浅田家!)

BEST MOVIE FROM CHINA SET IN GANSU PROVINCE:
Return to Dust (隐入尘烟,)

BEST MOVIE FROM PAKISTAN WITH AN LGBTQ+ THEME:
Joyland (جوائے لینڈ)

BEST MOVIE FROM LEBANON:
Dirty Difficult Dangerous (حديد نحاس بطّاريات)

MOST NOT ALL THAT GOOD OF A MOVIE FROM ISRAEL ABOUT THE INTERSECTING DESTINIES OF AN ISRAELI AND A LEBANESE WOMAN CAUGHT UP IN THE MAELSTROM OF WAR:
Tel Aviv-Beirut (תל אביב بيروت)

BEST PALESTINIAN MOVIE ABOUT COLLABORATION AND RESISTANCE IN A HAIR SALON IN THE OCCUPIED PALESTINIAN TERRITORIES:
Huda’s Salon (صالون هدى)

BEST PALESTINIAN MOVIE ABOUT THE RADICALIZATION OF THE YOUNGER GENERATION OF PALESTINIAN CITIZENS OF ISRAEL:
Alam (علم)

BEST MOVIE FROM SYRIA ABOUT A FAMILY IN A BOMBED-OUT DAMASCUS NEIGHBORHOOD DECIDING WHETHER OR NOT THEY SHOULD STAY OR FLEE:
Nezouh (نزوح)

BEST DOCUMENTARY ABOUT THE WAR IN SYRIA DEPICTING YET AGAIN THE UTTER DEPRAVITY AND HEINOUSNESS OF THE BASHAR AL-ASSAD REGIME:
The Lost Souls of Syria

SECOND BEST MOVIE FROM TURKEY:
Burning Days (Kurak Günler)

BEST MOVIE FROM GEORGIA THAT IS MAINLY SET IN BROOKLYN:
Brighton 4th (მეოთხე ბრაიტონი)

BEST MOVIE FROM SUDAN:
Goodbye Julia (وداعا جوليا)

BEST DOCUMENTARY FROM THE CENTRAL AFRICAN REPUBLIC ABOUT ECONOMICS MAJORS AT BANGUI UNIVERSITY AND THEIR CAREER PROSPECTS:
We, Students! (Nous, étudiants!)

BEST SURREAL CRIME DRAMA FROM TUNISIA:
Ashkal: The Tunisian Investigation (اشكال)

BEST DOCUFICTION FROM TUNISIA:
Four Daughters (Les Filles d’Olfa بنات ألفة)

BEST AMAZIGH MOVIE FROM ALGERIA:
Rêve (Argu)

BEST HISTORICAL DRAMA FROM ALGERIA ABOUT THE 16TH CENTURY OTTOMAN CONQUEST OF ALGERIA:
The Last Queen (الملكة الأخير)

BEST MOST POWERFUL FRENCH-MADE DOCUMENTARY ABOUT THE 19TH CENTURY FRENCH CONQUEST OF ALGERIA:
De la conquête

BEST MOVIE FROM ALGERIA ABOUT A YOUNG BALLERINA WHO CONFRONTS ADVERSITY IN 21ST CENTURY ALGERIA:
Houria (حورية)

WORST MOVIE FROM ALGERIA THAT EVERYONE THOUGHT WOULD BE A BETTER MOVIE:
The King of Algiers (Omar la Fraise عمر لا فراز)

BEST MOVIE FROM SERBIA ABOUT PROTESTORS FOR DEMOCRACY AND COLLABORATORS WITH AUTHORITARIANISM IN MID 1990s YUGOSLAVIA:
Lost Country (Изгубљена земља)

BEST MOVIE FROM ROMANIA THAT GIVES A GOOD IDEA OF WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO LIVE IN A 1970s COMMUNIST DICTATORSHIP:
Metronom

BEST MOVIE FROM HUNGARY ABOUT A HUNGARIAN SOLDIER ON THE EASTERN FRONT DURING WORLD WAR II:
Natural Light (Természetes fény)

BEST MOVIE FROM UKRAINE SET IN A VILLAGE ON 21 JUNE 1941 THAT IS ALMOST ENTIRELY IN YIDDISH:
SHTTL (Шттл)

ZANIEST MOVIE FROM FINLAND ABOUT A GRIZZLED TOUGH-AS-NAILS GOLD PROSPECTOR IN LAPLAND DURING WORLD WAR II WHO SINGLE-HANDEDLY VANQUISHES AN ENTIRE NAZI BATTALION:
Sisu

BEST MOVIE FROM GERMANY SET IN WORLD WAR II BERLIN THAT REENACTS THE MOST SINISTER 90-MINUTE CONFERENCE EVER HELD IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD:
The Conference (Die Wannseekonferenz)

BEST MOVIE FROM SWITZERLAND ABOUT LATE 19TH CENTURY ANARCHIST WORKERS WHO POSSESSED ADVANCED CLASS CONSCIOUSNESS:
Unrest (Unruh)

BEST THRILLER FROM ITALY SET IN NAPLES:
Nostalgia

BEST POLICE THRILLER FROM ITALY SET IN MILAN:
Last Night of Amore (L’ultima notte di Amore)

BEST HISTORICAL DRAMA FROM ITALY SET IN BOLOGNA DEPICTING HOW THE MID 19TH CENTURY CATHOLIC CHURCH DID NOT LIKE JEWS:
Kidnapped (Rapito)

BEST MOVIE FROM CATALONIA:
Alcarràs

BEST MOVIE FROM CHILE ABOUT A BOURGEOIS WOMAN WHO TAKES A BIG RISK DURING THE EARLY YEARS OF THE MILITARY JUNTA:
1976

BEST ALBEIT OVERLY LONG TWO-PART 4½-HOUR MYSTERY THRILLER FROM ARGENTINA:
Trenque Lauquen

BEST MOVIE FROM COLOMBIA ABOUT A GROUP OF STREET BOYS FROM MEDELLÍN WHO DECIDE THEY WANT TO LIVE OFF THE LAND:
The Kings of the World (Los reyes del mundo)

BLEAKEST MOVIE FROM NICARAGUA:
Daughter of Rage (La hija de todas las rabias)

BEST NOT BAD MOVIE FROM MEXICO ABOUT HOW DANGEROUS IT CAN BE TO CHALLENGE CORRUPT MONIED INTERESTS:
Lost in the Night (Perdidos en la noche)

BEST MOVIE FROM SOUTH DAKOTA:
War Pony

BEST NOT BAD ROMANTIC COMEDY FROM QUEBEC:
The Nature of Love (Simple comme Sylvain)

BEST NOT BAD KOREAN-AMERICAN MOVIE ABOUT TWO CHILDHOOD FRIENDS SEPARATED BY TIME AND DISTANCE AND WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN:
Past Lives

BEST NOT BAD MOVIE FROM FRANCE ABOUT A TWENTYSOMETHING FRENCH ADOPTEE FROM KOREA WHO RECONNECTS WITH HER KOREAN ROOTS:
Return to Seoul (Retour à Seoul)

BEST FRANCO-SENEGALESE MOVIE ABOUT AFRICAN SOLDIERS IN THE FRENCH ARMY DURING WORLD WAR I WITH OMAR SY IN THE LEAD ROLE:
Father & Son (Tirailleurs)

BEST COMEDY FROM FRANCE ABOUT THE SUDDEN BUT DUBIOUS FAME OF A STRUGGLING WRITER WITH RAMZY BEDIA AND NOÉMIE LVOVSKY IN THE LEAD ROLES:
The (In)famous Youssef Salem (Youssef Salem a du succès)

BEST COURTROOM DRAMA FROM FRANCE ABOUT A SUCCESSFUL WRITER WHO IS ACCUSED OF MURDERING HER LESS SUCCESSFUL WRITER HUSBAND WITH SANDRA HÜLLER AND SWANN ARLAUD IN THE LEAD ROLES:
Anatomy of a Fall (Anatomie d’une chute)

BEST COURTROOM DRAMA FROM FRANCE THAT REENACTS THE 1970s MURDER TRIAL OF A REVOLUTIONARY LEFT-WING ACTIVIST WITH ARIEH WORTHALTER AND ARTHUR HARARI IN THE LEAD ROLES:
The Goldman Case (Le Procès Goldman)

BEST MOVIE FROM FRANCE ABOUT A BOURGEOIS LEFT-WING SOIXANTE-HUITARD ACTIVIST WITH AN ELITE EDUCATION WHO DECIDES TO WORK IN A FACTORY INSTEAD OF TEACHING PHILOSOPHY TO BOURGEOIS LYCÉE STUDENTS SO HE CAN LEAD THE WORKERS TO REVOLUTION AND HOW THAT WORKS OUT WITH SWANN ARLAUD AND MÉLANIE THIERRY IN THE LEAD ROLES:
The Assembly Line (L’Établi)

BEST THRILLER FROM FRANCE ABOUT A WHISTLEBLOWING TRADE UNION ACTIVIST WHO UNCOVERS CORPORATE AND STATE MALFEASANCE WHICH LEADS TO HER BEING VIOLENTLY ATTACKED BUT SHE REFUSES TO BE INTIMIDATED WITH ISABELLE HUPPERT AND GRÉGORY GADEBOIS IN THE LEAD ROLES:
The Sitting Duck (La Syndicaliste)

BEST MOVIE FROM FRANCE ABOUT A YOUNG POLITICALLY AMBITIOUS POWER COUPLE WHOSE RELATIONSHIP IS SUDDENLY UPENDED WITH REBECCA MARDER AND BENJAMIN LAVERNHE IN THE LEAD ROLES:
Grand Expectations (De grandes espérances)

BEST MOVIE FROM FRANCE ON THE THEME OF RESTORATIVE JUSTICE WITH LEÏLA BEKHTI AND AN ENSEMBLE CAST IN THE LEAD ROLES:
All Your Faces (Je verrai toujours vos visages)

BEST BIOPIC FROM FRANCE ABOUT THE GREATEST EVER FRENCH WOMEN’S SOCCER PLAYER WHOM ALMOST NO ONE IN FRANCE HAS EVER HEARD OF WITH GARANCE MARILLIER AND EMILIE DEQUENNE IN THE LEAD ROLES:
Marinette

BEST BLACK COMEDY FROM FRANCE ABOUT A DRIVING SCHOOL INSTRUCTOR-TURNED-VIGILANTE WITH THE ALWAYS EXCELLENT LAURE CALAMY IN THE LEAD ROLE:
Serial Driver (Bonne conduite)

BEST COMEDY-DRAMA FROM FRANCE ABOUT A CITÉ HOMEBOY WHO WANTS TO BE A DOCTOR BUT FAILS THE MEDICAL SCHOOL EXAM SO DECIDES TO TEMPORARILY TRAIN AS A MIDWIFE BUT DOESN’T TELL ANYONE IN THE CITÉ AS HE’S THE ONLY GUY IN THE CLASS AND HAS TO WEAR PINK SCRUBS BUT [SPOILER ALERT!] IT ALL WORKS OUT IN THE END WITH KARIN VIARD AND MELVIN BOOMER IN THE LEAD ROLES:
The Midwife (Sage-Homme)

MOST HILARIOUS LAUGH-OUT-LOUD COMEDY FROM FRANCE ABOUT THREE MOTHERS IN A CITÉ WHO DECIDE TO BECOME GANGSTA RAPPERS SO AS TO BETTER COMMUNICATE WITH THEIR SURLY 12-YEAR-OLD SONS AND TO THE HORROR OF THEIR SONS UNEXPECTEDLY BECOME HIT STARS WITH JEAN-PASCAL ZADI IN A SUPPORTING ROLE:
Yo Mama

BEST UNDERRATED MOVIE FROM FRANCE ABOUT A SINGLE MOTHER IN CALAIS WHO HELPS AN IRAQI MIGRANT MAKE IT TO ENGLAND WITH ALICE ISAAZ AND ADAM BESSA IN THE LEAD ROLES:
The Channel (Le Prix du passage)

BEST UNEXPECTEDLY NOT BAD COSTUME DRAMA FROM FRANCE SET IN LOUIS XV’s COURT AT VERSAILLES WITH MAÏWENN AND JOHNNY DEPP IN THE LEAD ROLES:
Jeanne du Barry

WORST MOST ABSURDLY OVERRATED MOVIE THAT IS OF COURSE FROM FRANCE ABOUT AN UTTERLY UNLIKELY ONE NIGHT AFFAIR OF TWO MIDDLE-AGED PARISIANS WHO MEET BY CHANCE BUT WHICH WOULD NEVER HAPPEN IN REAL LIFE WITH ALEX LUTZ AND KARIN VIARD IN THE LEAD ROLES:
Strangers by Night (Une nuit)

BEST THRILLER FROM FRANCE ABOUT AN INTREPID INVESTIGATIVE REPORTER WHO REVEALS THE POLITICALLY POWERFUL CULPRITS OF AN ECOLOGICAL DISASTER IN BRITTANY WITH CÉLINE SALLETTE IN THE LEAD ROLE:
The Green Tide (Les Algues vertes)

BEST MOVIE ABOUT AMERICAN ECO-TERRORISTS WHO ARE NOT IN FACT TERRORISTS WITH AN ENSEMBLE CAST IN THE LEAD ROLES:
How to Blow Up a Pipeline

BEST MOVIE ABOUT A WHISTLEBLOWING NSA CONTRACTOR IN AUGUSTA GEORGIA WHO GETS INTO BIG TROUBLE WITH THE FBI WITH SYDNEY SWEENEY IN THE LEAD ROLE:
Reality

BEST MOVIE BY AKI KAURISMÄKI:
Fallen Leaves (Kuolleet lehdet)

BEST MOVIE BY CHRISTIAN PETZOLD:
Afire (Roter Himmel)

BEST BIOPIC BY CHRISTOPHER NOLAN:
Oppenheimer

BEST MOVIE BY RABAH AMEUR-ZAÏMECHE:
The Temple Woods Gang (Le Gang des Bois du Temple)

BEST MOVIE BY FRANÇOIS OZON:
The Crime is Mine (Mon crime)

BEST NOT BAD BIOPIC BY FATIH AKIN ABOUT A GERMAN-KURDISH-IRANIAN CRIMINAL-TURNED-RAP MUSIC STAR:
Rhinegold (Rheingold)

MOST MILDLY ENTERTAINING AND AMUSING MOVIE BY GRETA GERWIG THAT ONE PROBABLY HAS TO HAVE GROWN UP PLAYING WITH DOLLS TO FULLY APPRECIATE:
Barbie

BEST NOT BAD DIRECTORIAL DEBUT BY BENJAMIN MILLEPIED:
Carmen

BEST MOVIE BY KEN LOACH THAT IS NOT HIS BEST MOVIE:
The Old Oak

BEST MOVIE BY MARTIN SCORSESE THAT WAS MERELY A GOOD MOVIE AND COULD HAVE BEEN CUT BY AT LEAST AN HOUR:
Killers of the Flower Moon

MOST OVERRATED MOVIE BY SAM MENDES:
Empire of Light

MOST OVERRATED BIOPIC BY STEVEN SPIELBERG:
The Fabelmans

MOST NOT THAT GOOD OF A MOVIE BY NANNI MORETTI:
A Brighter Tomorrow (Il sol dell’avvenire)

FIRST MOVIE BY WOODY ALLEN THAT IS ENTIRELY IN FRENCH BUT IS OTHERWISE STILL A TYPICAL WOODY ALLEN MOVIE:
Coup de chance

WORST ANGLOCENTRIC MOVIE BY RIDLEY SCOTT ABOUT A WELL-KNOWN FRENCHMAN:
Napoleon

WORST MOST INSUFFERABLE MOVIE BY DAMIEN CHAZELLE:
Babylon

FIFTH TURKEY IN A ROW BY CLAIRE DENIS:
Stars at Noon

MOST PREPOSTEROUS CONSPIRACY-THEORIZING DRECK OF A MOVIE ABOUT A GLOBAL ELITE-LED INTERNATIONAL CHILD SEX TRAFFICKING NETWORK THAT IN FACT DOES NOT EXIST:
Sound of Freedom

Henry Kissinger

He died three weeks ago, if one hasn’t heard by now. Old news, I know. But as he was Henry Kissinger, his passing certainly merits an AWAV R.I.P. post. I did, however, debate whether or not to specifically wish him R.I.P., finally deciding no, that given he was Henry Kissinger—with all that his name conjures up, for me and other lefties of my generation—I just couldn’t. So of AWAV’s 65-odd R.I.P. posts over the past dozen years, Henry Kissinger thus joins Osama Bin Laden and Ariel Sharon in not being worthy of an R.I.P. by the likes of AWAV. Voilà.

That said, I could not partake in the inevitable torrent of vitriol and hatred—accompanied by glee—on my decidedly left-tilting Facebook news feed that followed the announcement of his death, the venomous deluge rivalling the ones showered on those emblems of gauchiste hate, Ariel Sharon and Margaret Thatcher. Not that I ever had positive sentiments toward any of these three but, speaking for myself, I can rarely sustain a visceral detestation of a politician or other public figure that so many others will tenaciously hold for decades, or even a lifetime. Forty or fifty years ago the mere mention of Kissinger’s name could get my juices flowing; today, hardly.

A case in point of lifelong Kissinger hate: the très gauchiste UC-Santa Barbara sociologist Lisa Hajjar (whom I know personally and like), who railed on against the Rasputin of the Nixon and Ford administrations for years on Facebook, wishing him a painful, miserable demise. I found her Kissinger fixation mildly amusing, though it was not clear to me what her specific beef with him was. Now that he’s kicked the bucket, as it were, she has published her “fauxbituary” on “Henry and me.” So for Professor Hajjar, it was personal. The explanation of her political objections has, however, left me wanting.

The Nº 1 hitman of leftist Kissinger hate in recent years looks to be Yale University historian Greg Grandin, who has spilled much ink on the man and his action. Christopher Hitchens in his day also had a bee in his bonnet about Henry K. I was personally influenced by William Shawcross’s Sideshow: Kissinger, Nixon, and the Destruction of Cambodia back when the book came out, though Shawcross later did a 180° in his assessment of HK, whom he ended up extolling.

The litany of Kissinger’s putative misdeeds—among others: Vietnam (escalation, Christmas bombing), Cambodia, East Pakistan, Chile, Cyprus, East Timor, Argentina—hardly necessitates enumeration. That he was, for his critics, a war criminal goes without saying, as did his indifference to the human suffering that inevitably ensued from the many wars and bloody coup d’États for which he is accused of bearing responsibility. “Amorality” and cynicism have been leitmotifs in characterizing his foreign policy practice. Henry K. was a practitioner of cold-blooded realpolitik—as if he was somehow unique in the history of American foreign policy-making in this respect—which, for his detractors, is proof of, well, what a cold-blooded, amoral, cynical person he was.

Kissinger was, along with Richard Nixon, an adept of “continental realism,” which, in Walter Russell Mead’s well-known typology, posits that the foreign policies of states are driven by power politics rather than ideals or moral principles—or by economic considerations—and conducted by solitary leaders walled off from domestic interest groups. The continent of reference is, of course, Europe, with the international relations of European states—and those of just about every other state on the planet—having historically adhered to the values-free ethos that inspired Kissinger and Nixon. So it was hardly surprising that these two were admirers of Charles de Gaulle (“l’intendance suivra“) and got on well with CDG’s successor, Georges Pompidou, or that, when it comes to geopolitics, France has far preferred dealing with US presidents like Nixon rather than those guided by considerations other than power politics (e.g. human rights, democracy promotion).

Kissinger’s passing was page one news in the French press (and above the fold in Le Monde and Le Figaro), and with two-page obituaries, but from what I hear (as I wasn’t in France) there was little comment on him otherwise. To the post-Boomer generations, his name meant little to nothing. One commentary on Henry K. that I did come across, on the social media platform once known as Twitter, was by the well-known, iconoclastic political journalist and commentator Jean-Michel Aphatie, editorializing from his new perch on TMC’s early evening infotainment show, ‘Quotidien’. As he is one of my favorite pundits in the French broadcast media, I was particularly interested to hear what he had to say on Henry K. Watch here:

As they say in these parts, il n’y va pas par quatre chemins! (translation here). Monsieur Aphatie really didn’t like Henry Kissinger, calling him a sale type and a salaud—this is strong language in French—who was directly responsible for the installation of military dictatorships in South America, notably in Chile and Argentina, which brought about so much pain and suffering for the peoples under their yoke—but enriched profiteering businessmen like Kissinger himself, who favored the economic takeover of the continent by “North American” corporations to the detriment of South American ones, thereby “creating misery, unemployment, and deculturation” in their wake—and paving the way in turn for the victory fifty years later of the flakey populist Javier Milei in the Argentinian presidential election. No joke.

Monsieur Aphatie’s source for all this? The Uruguayan writer Eduardo Galeano’s Open Veins of Latin America, that 1970s tiersmondiste classic, translated into dozens of languages and read by every self-respecting gauchiste of the era with the slightest internationalist fiber. Aphatie says he did at age 20 (1978 for him); me, I read it when I was 19 (1975). It’s been decades since I’ve thought about Galeano’s book—intellectually and social scientifically, I moved on—but for Aphatie, it remains a reference—and a crowd-pleasing one, seeing the loud applause his anti-Yanqui imperialist broadside received from the studio audience. I am quite certain that the majority of my lefty US friends would likewise nod in agreement with him.

To repeat, I do like Jean-Michel Aphatie, for his center-left sensibility and mordant commentaries on French politics and personalities, all pronounced in his trademark southern accent (the south of France, that is) and in-your-face style—making him a privileged target of the right-wing Twitter/X troll army. His inflamed editorials on France’s historical amnesia in regard to its disreputable colonial past in Algeria are particularly appreciated. But his anti-Kissinger rant is one more case in point that media pundits really should stick to pontificating on subjects they know something about and refrain from pontificating on those they don’t, as, on this, Aphatie is à côté de la plaque. Off-the-wall. What Jean-Michel Aphatie has to say about Henry Kissinger is, pardon my French, bullshit. He doesn’t know WTF he’s talking about.

Two points. First, contrary to popular belief, the United States had nothing to do with the 1973 coup in Chile (or any other South American coup d’État of the era). I repeat: the United States of America had nothing to do with the coup in Chile. Sure, Kissinger and Nixon were pleased by the coup and overthrow of Salvador Allende, but not only were they not responsible for it, they barely had wind of it beforehand. My source: an account of what really happened in Chile, linked to in my AWAV post of September 12, 2014, that may be found here. Secondly, during the Nixon and Ford administrations (1969-77), Henry Kissinger was National Security Advisor in the White House, then Secretary of State. In the US government, foreign policy is made by the President, not by an advisor or cabinet secretary. When it comes to foreign policy, as with all other major policy decisions requiring presidential action, the buck stops in the Oval office, not in some other office in the West Wing or on the 7th floor of a building in Foggy Bottom.

On this second point, as on the man more generally, the most spot-on assessment of Kissinger that I’ve seen is by legal journalist Benjamin Wittes, who is, among other things, editor-in-chief and co-founder of the Lawfare blog, and currently a weekly guest on Charlie Sykes’s indispensable The Bulwark Podcast (in which they analyze the latest developments in the four criminal trails facing Donald Trump; their discussions are excellent and informative; I highly recommend them). Here is the full text of Wittes’s (witty) obituary, published December 2nd on his Substack site, Dog Shirt Daily.

Henry Kissinger was an overrated gasbag, who achieved fame by being proudly amoral in a world in which it had become normal to purport to stand for something.

In this proud amorality, he sometimes advanced the U.S. national interest and sometimes damaged it—along with countless human lives. But he always advanced his own interests, and his wildly inflated reputation.

What his detractors and sycophants have in common is the tendency to overstate his influence and significance.

Henry Kissinger was no Henry Kissinger.

It is very rare that we systematically attribute the most important foreign policy actions of a president to his staffers, even rarer that we attribute kinetic military actions to secretaries of state. This approach makes even less sense than usual when you’re dealing with a president like Richard Nixon, who was primarily a foreign policy thinker—and, for all his legion of faults, a rather substantial one.

We don’t attribute the Iraq War to Condi Rice or Colin Powell. Joe Biden’s policy toward Ukraine is Biden’s own, not Jake Sullivan’s. And whether you think of Nixon’s foreign policy in terms of ‘war crimes’ or in terms of the opening to China and detente, the instinct to attribute everything to Kissinger is a weird one. Many of those who like to accuse to Kissinger of war crimes cannot even name the secretary of defense who actually conducted the bombing of Cambodia. And the opening to China was something that Nixon had personally written about before he had ever become president.

I don’t mean to understate Kissinger’s role in any of these events, for good and ill. He was a highly consequential actor, and at least some of his accomplishments were personally his own—particularly the disengagement agreements between Egypt and Israel, which took place after Nixon had left office and paved the way for Camp David.

But we have a real tendency to attribute both everything we like and hate about Nixon-era foreign policy to Kissinger himself, instead of to Nixon and to his Department of Defense. This is true of both those who revere Kissinger and those who loathe him.

There are a few reasons for this. One is the accent and the persona Kissinger created. Kissinger fashioned himself as Metternich and he sounded the part. He was, as Trump would say, out of Central Casting, albeit for a character of his own creation. Relatedly, being a Jew—a Holocaust survivor, no less—he fit a certain set of stereotypes of a Jewish internationalist calling the shots and running everything. The fact that Nixon was a serious anti-Semite to whom Kissinger was essential anyway has subtly reinforced this point.

But the predominant factor was that Kissinger worked his reputation in an aggressive fashion for more than 50 years. He has aggressively cultivated an image as a wise elder statesman to whom everyone comes for advice and his centrality to everything is critical to that. It is easier to be the foreign policy intellectual from whom all must seek guidance if one was Nixon’s foreign policy than if one was an arm of it.

Kissinger has also written a great deal and that too has been a part of his careful image cultivation. When I was a young editorial page staffer at the Washington Post, there was an unwritten rule at the Post that all opeds had to be under 900 words unless they were by Henry Kissinger. Kissinger’s opeds didn’t have word limits.Nobody questioned this rule. It just was. Because Kissinger.

The trouble was that I never found the opeds very interesting. Often I couldn’t get through them. Eventually, I stopped reading them altogether.

And that’s really my point about Kissinger. A whole lot of it was mystique. Yes, he was an effective foreign policy operator, in both good ways and bad. Yes, he was a prolific foreign policy thinker and writer—and consultant. But ultimately, an immense amount of it all was hype. Kissinger was extremely good at being Henry Kissinger.

And I came to find that, well, a little boring.

Couldn’t have said it better myself.

Wittes does give Kissinger personal credit for the disengagement agreements between Egypt and Israel that followed the 1973 Ramadan-Yom Kippur War—Sinai I (Jan. 1974) and Sinai II (Sep. 1975)—and is right on that, as Kissinger took the leading role through his shuttle diplomacy and from a President Nixon caught up in Watergate and an accidental President Ford who was a novice in foreign policy. With Kissinger effectively at the helm of Middle East policy, Egypt dumped the Soviet Union in favor of an alliance with the US—which, from the US standpoint, was incontestably a good thing—and committed itself to resolving its conflict with Israel via negotiations, as Sinai I & II rendered interstate war between the Arabs and Israelis all but impossible. The way was thus paved for Anwar Sadat’s 1977 visit to Jerusalem, followed by the 1978 Camp David negotiations, and culminating in the 1979 peace treaty signed on the White House lawn, in which Egypt recovered every last inch of its land occupied by Israel in 1967—which would not have happened otherwise.

Aaron David Miller, in a November 21st podcast interview with Ezra Klein (which is well worth listening to), says that Kissinger is one of only three American leaders who belongs in his personal Israeli-Arab peace hall of fame (Jimmy Carter and James Baker being the other two), for his aforementioned shuttle diplomacy, deep respect for Arab leaders—and particularly Anwar Sadat—and willingness to get tough on the Israelis when he felt he had to.

As for the 1979 peace treaty—which would not have happened without Jimmy Carter—it’s too bad Sadat didn’t want Gaza back and then insist on it from the Israelis. Alas.

The Israel-Hamas war

[update below]

Friends have been noting over the past weeks that AWAV has gone silent, for three months now, and asked me what’s up. Answer: nothing in particular. I’ve intended to write on all sorts of topics, in fact—particularly on the worrisome political situation in the United States, where I spent some six weeks this summer (Midwest, NC)—but didn’t seize the moment when I felt inspired. But if there was a time to bring AWAV out of hibernation, it is now, with the stunning turn of events in Israel-Palestine, which most of us—me certainly—have been riveted to over the past two weeks (for AWAV posts on the 2012, 2014, and 2021 Gaza wars—there were 15—go here and here; see this one as well from last May).

On Saturday afternoon, October 7th, when the enormity of what was underway in the towns and villages along Israel’s border with Gaza had dawned on the world, I sent my random thoughts to Claire Berlinski, at her request, which she posted on her fine Substack site, The Cosmopolitan Globalist, in its ongoing, first-rate coverage of the war (trigger warning: it does have a slight political skew, which may disturb sensitive persons with their own skewed view of the conflict). My hot take comments are not too interesting two weeks after the fact, though I have so far been right about most things, one being this:

Hamas and the Gazawis are going to get the holy shit kicked out of them—the IDF will turn Hamas into hummus (quote from a friend)—but Hamas does not care, as it cares about its own people about as much as Vladimir Putin cares about his. The Israelis will kill thousands of civilians, thereby being credibly accused of war crimes in the court of global public opinion. A PR disaster for Israel.

Not a bold or original prediction on my part admittedly. It went without saying that the IDF’s response to Hamas would go well beyond a “mowing the lawn” operation, or even an invoking of the Dahiya doctrine. Thomas Friedman, in his October 14th NYT column, “Why Israel is acting this way,” tersely asserted that in Gaza, “Israel will apply Hama Rules.”

America’s most prominent journalistic authority on the Middle East of the past four decades, suggesting that Israel—a country he knows and loves—will wage war with the same regard for civilians as the Ba’athist regime in Syria…

Not to equate the powers-that-be in Jerusalem with those in Damascus—present and past; the latter really are far worse—but the fury of the IDF’s carpet bombing plus the sanguinary outbursts of angry politicians, military people, and ordinary citizens lends credence to Friedman’s prediction.

(Credit: Le Monde)

When Hamas planned its October 7th operation, it knew full well that Israel would react in the way that it has, that the Israelis would feel they had no choice. Given the scale of the massacre on October 7th, it was inconceivable that Israel would not strike back at Hamas with unprecedented violence, with a fury that would inevitably cause suffering for the entire population of Gaza. Hamas was ready and willing to see this happen, to sacrifice countless thousands of its subjects in its long game to eradicate the state of Israel and extinguish Israeli society. Hamas was ready to see the mass of its population suffer because… it’s Hamas: the Palestinian branch of the Muslim Brotherhood—a totalitarian Islamist movement inspired at its inception by interwar European fascism and Nazism—and with a terrorist militia.

Hamas and the Lebanese Hizbullah are the most redoubtable enemies Israel has ever faced. They are far greater threats to Israel than the Egyptian and Syrian armies ever were (Iran is a crucial actor here, which is another matter). What Hamas did on October 7th—the sophistication of the operation—was simply incredible—and all the more so in view of the unbelievable incompetence of the Israeli army and intelligence services on that day. Again, the Israelis—humiliated, shocked, traumatized, and enraged—were obviously going to respond not by “mowing the lawn” but with massive force à la Hama.

Hamas, which has had this all worked out, has set a trap for Israel, that the Israelis are inexorably walking straight into. And so far, Hamas looks to be winning. There are alternative courses of action the Israelis could pursue to avoid catastrophe, for themselves and the people of Gaza, e.g. here and here, but this would require cooler heads in Jerusalem making the decisions. And there are no cool heads in Israel right now. France Inter’s geopolitical commentator, Pierre Haski, observed on Thursday that “The most incredible thing about this week’s sequence of events is that the horror of the October 7 terrorist attacks is already fading.”

This may be the case in much of the world—insofar as there was focus at all on the victims of October 7th—but the horror has certainly not faded in Israel. And it never will. Ever. Pour mémoire, some 1,400 Jews were massacred by Hamas gunmen on October 7th (and the number is sure to rise), As any minimally informed person has heard by now, more Jews were murdered on October 7th than on any single day since the Holocaust. Maurading Hamas gunmen—recalling the Einsatzgruppen in Lithuania and Ukraine circa 1941—murdered every last Jew they came across (who they did not kidnap). One can only imagine what would have happened if thousands of Hamas gunmen had stormed and overwhelmed Israeli defenses on the northern end of the Strip, thereby entering Ashdod and Ashkelon—cities with a combined population of 400,000—in the early hours of the morning—and with an open route to Tel Aviv.

I imagine there’s a word in Arabic and Hebrew for bloodbath on a Biblical scale. Or just the beginning of genocide.

This interview with Yuval Noah Hariri is worth ten minutes of one’s time.

One detail about the martyred communities along the “Gaza envelope” that I wasn’t aware of is that most of them are populated by secular Jews, who disproportionately belong to Israel’s lingering peace camp (likewise with the participants at the rave party). Here are some of the faces that have appeared on my Facebook and Twitter/X feeds, this first one posted by several leftist academics, including the gauchiste, anti-Zionist political scientist Neve Gordon, mourning his brilliant former student (who, one learns, received his doctorate from the University of Washington and was a rising star in the field of Israel studies, as well as anti-occupation militant).

Translation: “Eyal Waldman, Israeli high-tech tycoon, founder and CEO of Mellanox Technologies, stunned the tech industry and the whole Arab world by creating R&D centers five years ago, first in the West Bank and then two years ago in the Gaza sector, hiring hundreds of Palestinian developers. He said then: ‘Today we have 25 employees in Gaza. There are talented and smart people out there, economically it pays off. We have good staff, within one hour zone, with high motivation, availability and opportunities. And I think it’s very important for the two nations to come together. People used to be afraid of each other and didn’t talk. But the positive thing is created when people begin to work together and see how tensions decrease and cooperation work. This is good for all sides.’ And on October 7, 2023, Hamas killed his daughter Danielle. It happened near Kibbutz Reim, less than a mile from where her father opened the most innovative factory in Gaza.”

[UPDATE: The above Facebook post and photo having been removed, here is an article by Ian Neubauer published November 25, 2023, on the Al Jazeera website, “‘Bulletproof’: The brief, beautiful life of Danielle Waldman. Danielle was just 24 when she and her partner, Noam Shay, were brutally killed by Hamas at Supernova Festival.”]

[UPDATE: It turns out that Vivian Silver was killed at Kibbutz Be’eri on October 7.]

Joel Beinin, of Stanford University, is a well-known historian of the Middle East and a longtime anti-Zionist.

[UPDATE: Joel Beinin’s niece, Liat Beinin Atzili, was released from captivity on November 29. Her husband, Aviv Atzili, was killed at Kibbutz Nir Oz on October 7.]

And the rave party.

They were at the rave party.

Translation: “Amongst all the difficult news we heard yesterday is the shocking loss of Shlomi Matias and his wife, Shahar. They were killed together in the criminal attack. Shlomi was a friend and partner, who led the musical side of the protests for democracy in Beer Sheva. Creative, committed and kind hearted. May their memory be blessed and blessed forever!”

Le Monde dated October 18 has a full-page interview with Franco-Israeli sociologist Eva Illouz of the EHESS in Paris, in which she says that “for Israeli society, Hamas has become the Nazi,” explaining “that the terrorist attack on October 7 has engaged both sides in a ‘full-scale war,’ and will irrevocably change Israelis’ perception of Palestinians.” As Le Monde has translated the interview for its English edition and Illouz says it better than I can, here are some key passages:

It’s hard to find the right words to describe this unprecedented event. Terrorist attacks on this scale have never been seen before, in any country. There have been massacres, of course, but not a terrorist attack whose number of victims in proportion to the population is much greater than that of September 11. It was the equivalent of 10,000 people in France massacred in a few hours. I would venture to add that there were a series of unprecedented variations of horror: waking up on a holiday to the sound of machine-gun fire with an enemy infiltrating your home, the weak becoming the strong, the strong becoming the weak, the army we’ve been waiting for not coming, terrorists killing babies, decapitating people, killing children in front of their parents, and parents in front of children, kidnapping old people, children, men, women, recording and broadcasting massacres on social media, all this has no precedent. There has been an increase of horror techniques.

It has been the biggest shock in post-Holocaust Jewish history. The whole ontological reality of Israel has been called into question. The Nazis were trying to hide atrocities, not broadcast them. Death itself has become a propaganda motif. There has been a regime shift in atrocity. This is why the war has become total and existential. Israel appears strong, but this strength is underpinned by an existential fear that has become radicalized. For an Israeli, the possibility of genocide never seems far away. (…)

In equating Hamas with the Nazis, Godwin’s Law does not apply. Hamas’ view of the Jews is genocidal. I invite anyone who does not agree to explain why.

The horror and fear are on such a scale that the whole of society has rallied around one objective: to restore a sense of security to its citizens. In 1973, the Yom Kippur War also came as a shock, and there were 2,800 deaths, but these included zero civilians. In the present situation, the division between civilians and soldiers has been erased. This is not only characteristic of terrorism but also because states such as Iran act as terrorist organizations. (…)

N.B. The armed Palestinian movement never really distinguished between Israeli soldiers and civilians, contending that the latter are reservists and minors are future soldiers.

The fact that the global post-colonialist left refused to condemn the massacres will have repercussions on the Israeli left. After the Intifada in 2000, which left 1,000 Israelis dead, the left collapsed because so many people had come to the conclusion that the Palestinians didn’t want peace. It’s going to be more dramatic today. One of the things that will disappear is the idea of a binational state for both populations, which became fashionable over the last decade.

Comment: The idea of a binational state has always been a marginal one, adhered to by Jewish far-leftists (minuscule in number) and Palestinian citizens of Israel (who have a singular relationship with the state of Israel). Palestinians have otherwise never accepted the binational idea, as this posits that Jews are a nation, not merely a religious community, and with an equal claim to Palestine. Jewish nationhood is Zionism, which Palestinians, regardless of their political family (nationalist, Islamist, Marxist), have vehemently rejected. Palestinians will never accept the legitimacy of Zionism—and Israeli Jews will never renounce Zionism. For Palestinians, Palestine—from the river to the sea—is Arab and with Islam as the official religion (as is the case with the Palestinian Authority), with Jewish and Christian minorities recognized solely as confessional groups. Period.

[T]he right, which led us into this disaster because of the security doctrine it defended: The idea that relations with the Palestinians could be managed indefinitely as a low-intensity military conflict is a failure. Netanyahu and his allies wanted to use Hamas against the Palestinian Authority to make the creation of two states impossible; they failed to see that the blockade of Gaza would create an explosive situation, and let people think that Hamas was a bunch of pathetic people easily controlled by money from Qatar. (…)

[M]any Israelis believe that Palestinian civilians and their leaders share a radical hatred of Jews. All the more so as images of the bloodied bodies of young Israeli girls paraded through the streets of Gaza in the midst of excited crowds appear incriminating to civilians. These images make it difficult to distinguish between the people of Gaza and their leaders. We see a population united with Hamas in its hatred of Israelis and Jews. Israelis’ perception of Palestinians in Gaza is very different from that of Iranians, where it’s much easier to distinguish between the ayatollahs’ regime and a civilian population in insurrection. With Hamas, the distinction becomes blurred. (…)

This war is different: It’s an enemy that wants to obliterate Israel and its population. It is a full-scale war. Israelis think of this war in the following terms: It will be us or them. When one side officially declares that its goal is to wipe you off the face of the earth, it becomes difficult to think of proportionality. I would add, however, that the IDF’s aim is to eradicate Hamas and Hamas alone. Will they achieve this without affecting civilians on a massive scale? Probably not, and I deeply regret this.

What was once seen as a century-old military or colonial conflict is now interpreted through the lens of anti-Semitism. There is a shift from the political to the racial and religious. For Israeli society, the genocidal anti-Semitism that inhabited the lands of Europe has migrated to Islamism. Until now, the Palestinians, in the eyes of the Israelis, were not the Nazis. I think that changed after the terrorist attacks: Hamas has become the Nazi. There’s a risk that, through a contamination effect, the Israelis will see all the Palestinians in Gaza in the same way. Would Europe have compromised with the Nazis? Churchill decided to bomb Dresden, even though Germany had already lost. I’m not saying that Hamas is a Nazi. I’m aware of the historical and ideological differences. But that’s how it will be seen from now on. (…)

A categorical assertion: October 7th was the worst day in the history of the Arab-Zionist/Israeli conflict. Ever. Since its origins in the 19th century. This for the reasons specified by Eva Illouz and more: of 14 million Jews and Arabs, evenly divided, living in a land the size of Vermont or Normandy, hating, fearing, and distrusting the other more than ever, with no desire to coexist in the same space but unable to separate. I pronounced the Israel-Palestine conflict to be insoluble years ago but now it is definitive: there is no hope whatever. Except that the conflict can no longer be managed (from the Israeli standpoint) in the way that it has been. And the implication of the rest of the region, notably Iran and its clients, in the conflct, i..e, in a war, cannot be excluded. An apocalypse is not out of the question.

As I concluded my random thoughts of two weeks ago, this will not end well, for anyone. There are no best case scenarios, only least worst ones. And even then. But whatever one’s sympathies in this conflict, there can be no dispute over what Hamas did on October 7th—and for which it must pay the maximum price.

There will be more. À suivre.

UPDATE: Adam Shatz, who is well-known to AWAV readers and with whom I have been in daily communication, has a lengthy article (5,400 words) on the war in Gaza posted October 19 in the LRB (of which he is US editor), “Vengeful pathologies.”

Today is Bastille Day, simply called la Fête nationale in France, so I wish everyone a Happy Bastille Day (even though this is not a wish one makes in France). No riot today. As one is likely aware, the looting, pillaging, and arson ended—for the time being, at least—early last week but gallons of virtual ink continue to be spilled trying to make sense of what happened. For those who have been around for a while, myself being one, it was déjà vu all over again. I was not motivated to play the instant pundit and toss out my 2¢ as the riots were underway, as I didn’t feel that I had anything new or original to say on the subject—that I would simply be repeating what I’ve written in a number of AWAV posts—on riots in France but also the US and UK—over the past twelve years.

Each paroxysm of collective violence in the banlieues or ghettoized quarters of French cities has its specificities but almost all have largely followed the same well-worn script, with rioting by young males—most under age 18—of post-colonial immigrant origin being sparked by a confrontation with the police—with the conflagration invariably set off by an action of the police. In other words, the police are invariably the instigators of the riots. I thus began a post dated August 15, 2012, on the riot in Amiens:

For those who haven’t been following the news the past few days, there was yet another riot in a French banlieue cité (yawn, what else is new?), this one on Monday night in Amiens. It was the same dreary story: a pack of policemen have an encounter with one or several Maghrebi or African immigrant origin young males—usually a demand for the latter to produce their ID cards—, the young males react badly, the police get nervous and call in the reinforcements, packs of young Maghrebi and/or African immigrant origin males from the cité gather and pelt the packs of policemen with projectiles, the more thuggish elements among the youths profit from the disorder to vandalize or torch public establishments (notably schools) or other symbols of the state—and do a little pillaging of stores while they’re at it—, all hell breaks out—though in a circumscribed area and with firearms and violent deaths extremely rare; we’re not talking about South Central L.A.-style riots here—, the Minister of Interior arrives the next day and praises the action of the police, residents of the cité complain to TV reporters about drug dealing gangs but also the behavior of the police, the situation calms down after a day or two, until the next riot breaks out somewhere else in the country and that follows more or less the same script…

Abusive identity card checks of swarthy or dark-skinned males by the police—which the police do for no good reason (emphasis added)—was already an old story when I first wrote about it in June 2012. On the centrality of arbitrary ID checks—le contrôle au faciès—in the execrable relations between the police and les jeunes de banlieues—of the hatred of the former by the latter—there can be no dispute whatever.

In July 2013 I wrote on the riot in Trappes, which was sparked on a hot summer afternoon by an aggressive police ID check of a woman wearing a full face veil (a “burqa”) and her bearded salafi husband (converts both), the woman in formal infraction of the “anti-burqa” law (a harmless misdemeanor) but who was otherwise minding her own business. In the post I transcribed a spot-on explanation in Le Canard Enchaîné of what had had happened in Trappes—what invariably happens in all such incidents—written in Le Canard’s trademark ironic, tongue-in-cheek style. As we now have online translators, I fed the text through DeepL (and then edited):

And off to Trappes!

So which banlieue was it this time? Where you say? Trappes. Ah, yes, the town of Lilian Thuram. No, sorry, Jamel Debbouze and Omar Sy’s town. As usual, the same scenario, followed by the same cinema…

Scene one: the ID check. Or how even the smallest spark can set an entire neighborhood ablaze. So, in Trappes, a few cops stop a woman wearing a burqa and ask for her ID, and a riot breaks out in front of the police station.

Scene two: the conflicting versions of what happened. The burqa family: the cops swooped in like cowboys and called everyone “dirty whores”. The cop family: the hotheads threw themselves at the police, who were simply doing their job.

Scene three: the arrival of the Minister. Of Interior, of course. Strutting his stuff and flexing his little muscles, he proclaims: “It’s unacceptable!”, “The State will not allow it and will not accept it!”, “There is only one law in our country!” Bravo, Monsieur Valls! Sounds (almost) like Sarkozy. And the (Socialist) Minister of Urban Affairs, François Lamy, didn’t come? He’s already on vacation? He replies dismissively: “My role is not to react to events, but to look at the medium and long term (…). It’s first and foremost a problem of public order, and it’s up to him (Valls) to deal with it” (Le Parisien, 23/7).

Scene four: a mother calls out to the Minister. There’s always one (usually close to the rioters), and the Minister always answers her. It’s the highlight of the show, the most perilous acrobatic act for the Minister, but the obligatory passage through the forest of cameras and microphones. Did Valls evade the question? Did he answer correctly? Better than the “karcher contre la racaille” friend [Sarkozy] of 2005? “Accept the laws of the Republic! You do accept them, Madame, do you not?” Valls snapped. The media’s verdict: meh, he can do better.

Scene five: the judicial system and [the state] are implacable. Take note: court appearances are immediate and verdicts are about to rain down. The result, Monday the 22nd at the court house: endless debates, lack of evidence… Five defendants in the box and one hit with a jail sentence (10 months). Burqa family: outraged! Cop family: outraged!

Sixth scene: the political commentators. Exploiting the event for political advantage being irresistible, the right’s rhetoric lurches further rightward, with the well-worn refrain of accusing governments of the left of being lax. [Conservative party] boss Jean-François Copé: “Violence is on the rise, all the more so since government messages of laxity have been multiplying for the past year.” [Conservative politician] Brice Hortefeux: the government “must have the courage to show severity in the face of thugs who respect nothing and who insult the laws of the Republic”. And thanks above all to the [2010] burqa law: a fine piece of purely symbolic electoralist legislation, which, as expected, and according to the cops on the ground, is proving to be unenforceable. It creates crisis situations at every turn, stirs up pro-Islam and anti-Islam fantasies, excites the reactionaries and unleashes the mullahs. It has even awakened a few full-dress activists, who are having fun racking up as many as 30 fines on their own… But, meanwhile, there’s still no great “Marshall Plan for the banlieues”, promised under both the Right and the Left.

Finally, the seventh scene: looking ahead to next year’s municipal elections. The Front National makes big gains. Burqa family: “France is racist”. Cops family: “it was inevitable…”.

The same dreary scenario each time. And it’s been going on for decades. As it so happens, we will mark the 40th anniversary this fall of the 1983 March for Equality and Against Racism, which I discuss in the lengthy AWAV post below—and the catalyst of which was the abusive behavior of the police toward young people of post-colonial immigrant origin. Forty years ago. Plus ça change…

In the improbable event that Emmanuel Macron has second thoughts on the question and launches a “Marshall Plan” for the banlieues—improbably assuming that such a plan would pass the National Assembly—it will come to naught if the toxic relationship between the police and les jeunes is not pacified—and there will be no pacification unless arbitrary ID checks are abolished. Outright.

As one may glean from Le Monde’s headline story and lede, the probability of Patrick Weil’s sensible proposal coming to pass is, it goes without saying, somewhere close to zero.

The French state’s anti-discrimination ombudswoman, Claire Hédon, has been calling this week for an abolition of police ID checks, a call that the old warhorse political commentator Jean-Michel Aphatie—who is good on immigration and related issues—is quite sure will fall on deaf ears.

While banlieue riots generally follow the same script, each one does have, as I mentioned above, its specificities. What was striking about the latest ones—and which stunned just about everyone—was the sheer level and scale of violence—of the unprecedented orgy of looting, pillaging, and arson—of businesses, motor vehicles of all sorts, and public buildings and infrastructure—and of persons sent to the hospital. Whereas previous riots tended to be geographically circumscribed—even those in 2005, whose epicenter remained in the Seine-Saint-Denis—the uprising that followed the June 27th police murder of the 17-year-old Nahel M. in Nanterre spread like wildfire across the country, even to smaller towns—N.B. there are immigrant-populated cités everywhere in France—and extended beyond the banlieues into city centers and residential quartiers that had never before witnessed such disturbances. So a friend who lives in Paris’s upscale 16th arrondissement (near Porte de Saint-Cloud) told me that a number of cars were torched on nearby Rue Chardon Lagache (where a run-of-the-mill 1500 sq. ft. condo sells for some $1.6M). A supermarket on my daughter’s street in the (gentrifying) 20th arrondissement was looted. A Marseille friend wrote in an email of his stupefaction in strolling on the trashed streets of the city center after three nights of looting and pillaging.

As for me, I did observe a near-incident on my street in December 2018, during the Gilets Jaunes episode, but nothing in my part of town this time. The riots did hit close to home nonetheless. The big shopping mall in the next banlieue over from mine, which has been renovated and expanded at a significant cost over the past twenty years, was hit by hordes of looters, though escaped major damage.

The call to pillage went out on social media.

N.B. The majority of those who patronize this mall are of immigrant origin themselves. And a number of them, seeing the social media videos of the pillaging hordes, tweeted their panic at the prospect of their mall being gutted.

And then there was the night of the 29th and 30th in Montreuil, a historically Communist-run, working class banlieue bordering Paris on the east, with a sizable immigrant population but also of educated gentrifiers who have been moving into the city over the past two decades. It’s like parts of Brooklyn, with new businesses catering to a diverse clientele, a vibrant cultural life, and a great six-screen, municipally-run cinema—Le Méliès, on Place Jean Jaurès—where I regularly see movies (at least once a week). Montreuil is not a problem banlieue, as it were. But on the above-mentioned nights, up to 300 youths—from public housing projects (cités), plus ultra-left activists—descended on the mairie (city hall) at Place Jean Jaurès, barricaded the streets, and with packs of them proceeding to loot and pillage stores in the modern commercial area around the square (photos below taken by me on July 5). It would have taken a mere two or three idiots with Molotov cocktails to torch the art deco mairie, the cinema (renovated and modernized with public funds), and national theater on the square: to cause catastrophic damage to the public infrastructure in one of France’s most politically progressive and immigrant-friendly municipalities.

Not that damage would somehow be justified in a municipality run by a non-progressive political force, including the Rassemblement National. However legitimate the anger toward the police (and the French state more generally) by the jeunes de banlieues et d’autres racisés, there can be no apologizing for the unprecedented looting and destruction that ensued over the five days that followed the murder of Nahel M. My above-mentioned friend in the 16th arr., a lawyer by profession, called me last week to talk about what had happened. We have markedly divergent views on issues that tie into immigration and/or are linked to Islam, but as he’s soft-spoken by temperament and cultivated, our frequent contradictory discussions, while spirited, are always civil, never acrimonious. But this time he embarked on a diatribe such as I haven’t heard in the 40+ years I’ve known him, venting his rage at the youthful perpetrators of the five days of hell-raising, the cost of which—to insurers (but which will be passed on to all of us) and taxpayers—may reach, even exceed, one billion euros. And he was in no mood hear about the behavior of the police, of racism (systemic and otherwise), discrimination, ghettoization, failing schools, the analyses of sociologists (all “leftists” in any case), and all the rest.

My friend’s epidermic reaction was shared by millions of other Frenchmen and women as well, no doubt a majority. The indignation over the police murder of an otherwise harmless 17-year-old boy, for driving a car without a license and disobeying a police order to stop—which is not a felony, let alone a capital crime—dissipated in the face of the five days of rioting, rendering it ever less likely that the police as an institution will be held to account. In Le Canard Enchaîné’s ironic account of the 2013 Trappes riot that I translated above, the seventh and final scene concludes with a prediction of the Front National making big gains in the following year’s municipal elections. Ten years later, i.e. today, just about everyone (myself included) has been predicting, or deeming it likely, that Marine Le Pen will win the 2027 presidential election. The sentiment of Mme Le Pen’s inevitability will only be reinforced after the latest episode of rioting by France’s classes dangereuses. More on this another time.

The trendy Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek has some recommendations for the left (traduit en français et publié dans Libération):

One recommendation not to follow is that of my friend Claire Berlinski, a Parisian for ten years now, who posted a lengthy essay last weekend on her Substack site, The Cosmopolitan Globalist, on the riots in France, titled “Riot control: How to stop a mob.” As Claire is a friend and begins the post by transcribing a private exchange we had on Twitter, I should say something about it.

In reading the post, I was reminded of the December 2018 article Claire published in The American Interest, during the insurrectionary phase of the Gilets Jaunes movement, in which she argued that France didn’t have enough cops. This time, five years later, she doubles down on her insistence that, in the face of the mass hell-raising, the fundamental problem in France is the inadequate number of police officers to quell the disturbances.

I circulated Claire’s 2018 piece to a few people at the time and the reaction was unanimous, which was, firstly, discomfort with the singular focus on the maintenance of public order and to the exclusion of any discussion or analysis of a possible political context or of why the disturbances were happening in the first place. One has the impression that, for Claire, riots are just something that happens, a natural phenomenon, like bad weather. Secondly, there was the sentiment that Claire was simply wrong in contending that France had a shortage of cops and needed more.

My reaction to the current piece is likewise—and which I likewise find disconnected from actual French realities. And the one AWAV reader I referred the link to, who otherwise respects Claire’s writing and finds her very smart—which she is—did not like it too much.

Claire writes:

It doesn’t matter why people are rioting or who is responsible. The state needs to stop it, and to do that, it must have a police force big enough that if needed, it can be on the streets in overwhelming numbers. France’s police are exhausted, poorly trained, and terrified they’ll be overrun. You can see this in the videos. They’ve come to hate the people they’re supposed to protect, which you can also clearly see. They need a vacation. They need help. They’re acting like animals because they’ve been asked to do the impossible. This is unfair to them and to the public. That France does not have adequate force at its disposal—despite one riot after another—is a serious indictment of its government.

Yes, it would be costly to create a police force big enough reliably to prevent mobs from whipping themselves into a frenzy before law enforcement arrives. But it would be a whole lot less costly than the riots themselves.

A few points. First, on the notion that France is under-policed, I’m wondering where Claire gets this. There is, e.g., no dispute that France has a shortage of doctors (particularly GPs), nurses, schoolteachers, magistrates, and even soldiers (thus the dramatic increase in military spending, to respond to the existential threat posed by Russia to Europe). But the National Police? I may not be an authority on the subject but do follow it in the media, where some of the leading specialists of policing in France are regulars (e.g. Alain Bauer, Sebastian Roché), and I do not recall having ever read or heard that France has too few cops. And, moreover, one really does not get the impression that such is the case when observing the way French cops travel in packs—and when nothing in particular is happening—of a dozen of them, e.g., descending on my RER station to check the IDs of dark-skinned persons, of dozens and dozens of them massed at street demonstrations, tear gas and truncheons ready (when they should not be there at all, as if there is indeed trouble, it is invariably provoked by their very presence).

Secondly, once a riot begins, it obviously needs to be quelled, and regardless of what sparked it. And this is precisely what happened last week. Some 45,000 cops and gendarmes were mobilized over the weekend of July 1-2, and by Monday it was pretty much over. The conflagration lasted all of five days. Voilà!

Thirdly, if the French police are poorly trained, well, they should then be better trained, no? In revising its training methods, the National Police would also be well-advised to overhaul its entire policing doctrine, whose “heavy-handed methods” are, in the words of sociologists Olivier Fillieule and Fabien Jobard,  “typical of the end of the 19th century,” and display an “authoritarian conception of crowd control that is…far removed from both the spirit and the letter of the law on the right to demonstrate” (see Anne Chemin’s enquête in Le Monde, dated 9 September 2022, “A history of French crowd control, one of the harshest in Europe“). And if a government, present or future, wishes to make more effective use of its existing police agents—whose numbers are more than sufficient—it could begin by abolishing ID checks and legalizing the consumption and sale of cannabis, thereby freeing cops from activities that are both time-wasting and poison their relations with a part of the population.

Fourthly, on how the police “[have] come to hate the people they’re supposed to protect”: (a) In France, the police consider that their primary mission is to protect the state, not the citizenry. (b) One may doubt that the police who brutalized Michel Zecler, or countless other members of visible minorities, were “exhausted” when they did it or “terrified” of the persons they were brutalizing.

A few more passages from Claire’s piece:

If despite this riots seem to be gathering, don’t wait for days to do what the French ultimately did last week. Declare curfews immediately. And yes, shut down social media. It’s important to explain that this is the plan well before there’s a riot and also to explain why it’s the plan.

Curfews? For everyone or just minors? For the entire country? Whole cities? Or just immigrant-peopled banlieues, à la Maurice Papon? Are you sure you want to go there, Claire?

And shutting down social media? Such as Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, and TikTok? Like they do in Turkey or China? Seriously? One can imagine the reaction in public opinion and the political opposition (presently a majority in the National Assembly) to Macron’s solemn 8 PM address to the Nation, informing les Françaises et les Français that, as of tomorrow, they will not be able to access Facebook, Twitter, Insta et al et jusqu’à nouvel ordre. Why not shut down Libération, Mediapart, and Bondy Blog too while we’re at it?

France is already well down the path to Orbánization—of putting in place the legal framework that will greatly facilitate matters for a Viktor Orbán-like regime (and we know who will lead that one)—but France remains, for the time being at least, a liberal democracy, and with a Constitutional Council that has not gone the way of its US counterpart. And liberal democracies don’t suspend or block domestic sources of information, even if they somehow have the legal authority to do so. Once you start sliding down that slippery slope, there’s no sliding back.

People will stop rioting if there’s an adequate number of police (or the military) on the streets.

The military? Don’t even think about it! Soldiers are trained to fight in wars and kill armed men. They have neither the training nor the vocation to confront projectile-hurling 15-year-old boys in big, densely-populated urban public housing projects. And as a simple matter of symbolism, the specter of French soldiers pointing guns at ethnic Algerian and other post-colonial youths would not be a good look for France, internationally or domestically.

Trying to stop riots with an inadequate force—and particularly, an exhausted and politically radicalized force that has long since dehumanized the rioters, as the French police have—is a terrible idea. France would literally be better off putting no cops on the street at all. The way they’re approaching riot control is a recipe for a paradoxical effect. The cops in the video below need to be taken off the streets before they kill someone. They’re certainly not helping to keep the peace.

So a little bit of violent policing—especially if videos of the cops behaving brutally go viral—will make things worse. But if you put enough calm police on the ground, the riots stop.

A politically radicalized force: that ship sailed some time ago. In the 1st round of the 2017 presidential election, 54% of police officers reportedly voted for Marine Le Pen (cf. 21% of the total electorate). What do you think it will be today?

Calm police: that would be nice but I’m not sure how it can be mandated.

The video: this is par for the course. And one thing is for sure, which is that none of these robocops will receive the slightest reprimand. (And not to flog the dead horse or anything but what were the cops doing at the Place de la République in the first place? Why the hell were they even there?)

This post is longer than anticipated so I will conclude it here with my friend Stathis Kalyvas’ weekly column (most of it), dated 9 July 2023, in the Athens daily Kathimerini, “The French disease,” which, being in Greek, I had translated by DeepL. Stathis, who is the Gladstone Professor of Political Science at the University of Oxford, is one of the most brilliant social scientists I know, and who knows France well, so his perspective is necessarily of interest.

The French disease

France is experiencing a new crisis of the insurrectionary type, with the marginalised young people of the deprived districts surrounding its big cities as the protagonists. This was triggered by the murder of a young man of Arab origin by a policeman and resulted in widespread arson and looting. The looting concerned consumer goods attractive to the protesting young people (especially sports shoes and electronics), while the arson attacks targeted state infrastructure that serves and improves the daily life of these neighbourhoods, such as schools and libraries. It is a combination that highlights the particular ferocity of these acts, but also the inability to escape from blind protest. As in the US with the 2020 riots, so in France the phenomenon concerns population groups where economic deprivation is accompanied by racial characteristics with cultural ramifications, repeated with regularity, accompanied by diagnoses of poverty, marginalisation and (more recently) ‘systemic racism’, and leading to public investment policies and legislative measures with meagre results.

But where France stands out is that the conflictual expression of political discontent has broader dimensions. Beginning with the transition from the Fourth to the Fifth Republic through dangerous extra-institutional processes in 1958, passing through the great crisis of May 1968, the sporadic riots of the 1980s and 1990s, the major incidents of 2005, and reaching the “Yellow Vests” in 2018 and the riots over the pension system not so long ago, this political behaviour seems to have become deeply engrained in the French psyche: Whether we are talking about the young people of the peripheral districts with their delinquent behaviour, or the petty bourgeoisie of the French countryside who feel the world changing around them, or the children of the Parisian bourgeoisie who are simply bored, the tendency towards confrontational politics is not unrelated to either a fervent desire for a ritualistic revival of the French Revolution or a strong tendency towards unbridled self-indulgence, a tendency that is totally incompatible with the quality of the services provided by the French state to its citizens (a charming but indicative aspect of which is the extensive policy of subsidies for social spa tourism, beautifully described in the American New Yorker magazine of 23.5.2022).

The expression of this political culture takes many different forms: in the form of an exaggerated left-wing radicalism, as in the literary work of Edouard Louis or in the political discourse of Jean-Luc Mélenchon, in the aestheticisation and glorification of street violence, as in the films of Mathieu Kassovitz or Romain Gavras, or with an extreme miserabilism and a dark pessimism, most notably expressed in the literary work of the great Michel Houellebecq. In other words, France seems to have developed a culture that reflects—but, above all, promotes and reinforces—the political and social disintegration of a society that, despite its problems, has great achievements in comparison with other developed countries. (…)

À suivre.

Russia’s wild weekend

What else to call it? Insane? Bonkers? Or, as Claire Berlinski rhetorically exclaimed on her Substack site, The Cosmopolitan Globalist (for which she merits an award for the work she puts into it): What the hell was that? Like everyone, I was riveted all day Saturday and into yesterday to the fast-moving events in Moscow, Rostov-on-Don, and other points out that way. I thought of doing an AWAV à chaud but whatever speculation or analysis (no doubt half-baked) I could have offered would have likely been obsolete the moment it was posted. The café de commerce has indeed been in overdrive from the outset, with persons of varying levels of specialized knowledge making confident assertions that Putin will come out of this a winner. Or loser. Likewise with Prigozhin. As for Ukraine and the counteroffensive, Prigozhin’s putsch will have no effect on the ground. Or it will in a big way, and in Ukraine’s favor.

Personally speaking, I cannot imagine that the shitstorm in the upper reaches of the Russian state will not be a godsend for the Ukrainians: that this will not dramatically increase their chances of expelling the Russians from all territory occupied since February 2014. Inshallah.

In lieu of my own thoughts on the matter, whatever they’re worth, here’s some of what I’ve been reading (or listening to) over the past 72 or so hours, and that has informed my thoughts.

First, a must-read article by New Yorker staff writer Joshua Yaffa: “The Wagner Group is a crisis of Putin’s own making.” The lede: “For a decade, the Russian President outsourced his military ambitions to the mercenary force and its pugnacious leader, Yevgeny Prigozhin—then they turned against him.” As Yaffa has been based in Moscow and authored a book on Putin, he is a priori well informed on the subject.

Making the rounds on Twitter on Saturday: “Prigozhin’s mutiny: What’s going on in Russia?,” by Lawrence Freedman, Emeritus Professor of War Studies at King’s College London, on his Substack site, followed up by his post today, “That was the coup that was.”

And on his Substack site, the incontournable Timothy Snyder: “Prigozhin’s March on Moscow: Ten lessons from a mutiny.”

As to why Prigozhin decided not to march all the way to Moscow, the FT’s Max Seddon, in a dispatch titled, “‘A huge humiliation’: failed Russian putsch exposes deep flaws in Putin’s regime,” has this:

Once the revolt began, Prigozhin appears to have had little idea of how to see it through successfully, according to a person who has known the warlord since the early 1990s.

“I don’t think he had anything particular in mind. He just decided to go and convince Putin that he should get to keep all the money they took away from him,” the person said. “Then the situation got completely out of control.”

“At some point he realised he didn’t know what to do next. You get to Moscow, and then what? You open the doors of a dozen prisons, some unimaginable freaks come out, the country goes to shit, and then you get to the Kremlin . . . and you don’t know what to do.”

The lede of the FT article is “Aborted Prigozhin rebellion raises spectre of state collapse if Kremlin faces further coup attempts.” State collapse in Russia. What a pathetic banana empire…

He seems like a charming man Yevgeny Prigozhin, though maybe not a total idiot. This from ten days ago (click on the icon for the thread):

Nicolas Tenzer is a reliable source on things Russian.

UK-based political scientist Mark Galeotti, who has authored some 20 books on Russia, is a reference.

Raining on the parade, Galeotti, writing in Tablet, says that “Ukraine needs to win faster: Kyiv is fighting three wars, not one—and time likely favors Moscow”

An excellent source for analysis of military matters is Lt. Gen. Mark Hertling (Ret.), a former Commanding General of the U.S. Army Europe (2011-12), who has been to Russia numerous times and had extensive interactions with his Russian counterparts.

Another retired army general and defense intellectual to follow on social media, this one from Australia, is Mick Ryan.

N.B. Analysis and commentary in France has been typically first-rate, from Russia specialists (academic and journalistic), retired military officers and defense intellectuals, and other knowledgeable persons. I’ll link to some of it in a subsequent post.

I had a post in the works on Monday on the Turkish election, which I had hoped to finish and publish that afternoon. No such luck. For the rest of that day—and into the next and beyond—I was distracted by another matter, one that is objectively far less consequential than the most important election in the history of the Turkish Republic but not inconsequential in my own not-too-consequential life, which involved a stroke of good fortune. A veritable coup de chance. Scrolling through Facebook—which I spend ever less time on—a week ago Thursday, the algorithm decided to display a post by a Facebook friend, whom I will call Brice, saying that he had two tickets to the Bruce Springsteen concert in Paris the following Monday that he wanted to sell, and that if one were interested, to send him a private FB message.

Now I had read last fall that Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band would be in Paris in May ’23 and so I went online to see about buying tickets, but the two concerts were of course sold out. Looking to purchase tickets for a bigtime concert was, as it happens, literally something I had never done as an adult, as I can count the number of times on one hand that I’ve been to a large venue concert since the age of 21—the last ones (in Paris) being Patti Smith at the 2012 Fête de l’Humanité (outdoors) and Cheb Mami in 1996 at the Zénith, i.e., once every 10-15 years. My rock concert-going (and record-purchasing) days were in my teens, when I saw a dozen or so bigtime acts (* see below). I continue to listen to music, of course, and generally try to keep up with what’s new—some of what’s new, at least (**)—but attending concerts is just not something I’ve done much of since my high school-early college years. When I go to stadiums or arenas, it’s for sporting events (sometimes) or (more often) political rallies.

As for Springsteen, I’ve always respected him and liked his major hits, but was not a huge fan. But he’s grown on me as I’ve gotten older, both his music and the man himself. So when FB friend Brice—an American academic domiciled in the Middle East and with whom I have interacted professionally over the years, though not met in person—issued his offer, I got in touch. As he had to cancel his trip to Paris, he was unloading the two tickets for a price that, as I saw when I got the tix, was less than their face value (€139), which was itself, as I learned, a steal (“that’s nothing!” as more than one American friend exclaimed), and literally a fraction of what they would have gone for in the US (as I have learned this week, it is illegal in France, thanks to the strict anti-scalping law, to sell tickets for any event over the price printed on the ticket).

Before committing to buy the tix, though, I had to find someone to come with me. My wife being out of town, I naturally asked my 29-year-old daughter, who goes to concerts like any normal person her age but has her own musical tastes, which can overlap with mine though not always (e.g. this was the last concert she attended). Before mentioning the concert, I asked her what she thought of Bruce Springsteen—”The Boss”—and his music, to which she replied to the effect of: “Uh, I don’t know. I’m not familiar with him.” Ah, okay. She did know “Born in the USA” when I mentioned it but nothing beyond that (and it was likewise with her friends, so she said), and was tepid about accompanying me. But then I received a message from Brice saying that someone else wanted to buy the tix, so I had to decide quickly. I called him illico on WhatsApp and said I would take them. He assured me, speaking as one who had attended dozens of Springsteen concerts over the past five decades—including three in Paris, though had never lived here—that I, who had never seen The Boss, would not regret it, nor would my daughter. And so he emailed me the tix (and with payment to be worked out later). I thus told my daughter that she had to come with me, that this was an exceptional, possibly once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—Springsteen being 73-years-old—that he’s one of the greatest rock singers ever, is an exceptional stage performer, a cultural icon, has good political and social values—e.g. he’s friends with Barack & Michelle Obama, and is anti-Trump, i.e. he’s one of us—has remained true to his working class roots, et j’en passe. She agreed, no problem.

Springsteen’s two Paris concerts were a news story over the weekend and into this week, with reports in the evening news, articles in the press, and specials on public radio and television. On Saturday night, the public station France 4 broadcast the 2¾-hour documentary of Springsteen’s 2002 concert in Barcelona. I watched the entire thing. An incredible concert. I was thus psyched, as it were, for Monday night.

Cutting to the chase, my daughter enjoyed the concert, so she said, pronouncing it “super.” As for me, in thinking of all the spectacles—music, sports, whatever—I have attended in the course of my life—now in the latter part of the seventh decade—this was the most spectacular ever. Period. I was quite simply blown away by the concert. It lived up to all expectations and then some. And as I have learned this week via pics and commentary posted on Facebook, I have numerous friends (FB and real life)/colleagues/relatives who are big, longtime fans of The Boss and have been to many of his concerts. And this includes some I would not have expected, such as a well-known Algerian journalist here in Paris—and editor-in-chief of a high-profile left-leaning monthly—with whom I am friendly, who informed me that not only did he attend Monday’s concert but Saturday’s as well, as he has been a huge Springsteen fan since his teen years in Algiers during the Boumediene era! Well how about that! I have been decidedly behind-the-curve, it looks like.

What impresses about Bruce Springsteen, in addition to his great music, is his consideration and generosity toward his fans. His concerts start on time—he doesn’t keep the audience waiting for an hour (which we’ve all seen) and/or then appearing on the stage drunk or manifestly stoned (which I’ve seen)—and they then go for three hours or even more, and without a break! It’s exhilarating, nonstop, high octane music from beginning to end. The sheer stamina and physical strength of the man—and at age 73!—and his band members are exceptional. And they give the audience what it came for. I can’t imagine that too many people have left a Bruce Springsteen concert disappointed or dissatisfied.

And he interacts with the audience. He communicates with it. (I have attended more than one concert where the lead singer—whom everyone came to see—didn’t say a word to the audience). The Boss’s fans love him and he loves them back. And it is likewise between him and his band. Bruce Springsteen, in addition to being a musician hors pair, is a good man.

Here are some of the photos I took during the nearly three hour concert and with commentary. And as it happens, a YouTuber videoed the entire concert, and from a good vantage point, and posted it here. To get a sense of it, just watch the first 8-minutes or so.

[UPDATE: On August 1st, @71leejohnson posted on YouTube what is by far the best video of the full concert: this a multicam film he put together from the numerous amateur videos posted on YouTube, with an impeccably synchronized audio soundboard recording that may or may not be the official one (of the Springsteen organization) in view of its excellent quality (superior not only to the sound in the other YouTubes but also to the objectively mediocre acoustics in the stadium itself).]

At the concert hall, an hour early. The Paris La Défense Arena is the largest domed stadium in Europe, with a concert capacity of 40,000. There was, needless to say, not an empty seat.
The crowd spanned the generations, from Boomers to Gen-Xers and some early Millennials. I asked my daughter what she thought the mean age was. She said 53, which sounded right.
Father and daughter
The E Street Band makes its entry, one by one. It’s 7:10 PM.
And The Boss. Thunderous cheering.
Bonsoir Paree!
And with his famous ‘One-two-one-two-three-four!’ he’s off like a rocket!
My love will not let you down“: What a great song! And a great concert opener!
Ghosts.” Great song too!
Prove it all night“: yet another great song.
Nightshift.” I love that song (the original by The Commodores too).
It’s almost 8:30.
Bruce is telling the audience the story (with French subtitles on the screens) of his longtime friend George, who died of lung cancer, and the song he composed for him, “Last man standing.” Watch here (he begins: “It was 1965, I was 15-years-old, I had been playing guitar for about six months…”).
It’s almost 9:00 PM. Bruce is singing Patti Smith’s “Because the night.” My daughter took a video but WordPress is telling me that I need to upgrade to Premium to post it. As I don’t feel like doing that, here it is via YouTube.
It’s 9:25. The lights have come on for the megahits, loved by everyone.
Born in the USA” (via YouTube, as I can’t post my own video).
Born to run.”
Dancing in the dark.” Just wow! If you can’t get enough of this song, then check this one out too.

There were two more, “Tenth Avenue freeze-out” and “I’ll see you in my dreams,” and then it was over, at 10:02 PM. Almost three hours nonstop of excellent music (28 songs total) and a spectacular, breathtaking show, and by one of the greatest singer-composers of our era.

It’s 10:25. Going home.

Rolling Stone France has an article dated May 17 on the two concerts, and in which one may find the concert setlists.

Le Monde has a dispatch on Saturday’s concert translated for its English edition, “Bruce Springsteen and his E Street Band charm Paris with a celebration of friendship and generosity.” The lede: “On his international tour, the American singer delivered a personal and generous marathon concert in Paris on Saturday. A second is scheduled for Monday night.”

I am reminded of Blinded by the Light, a heartwarming, feel-good movie from 2019, and based on a true story: “In England in 1987, a teenager from an Asian family learns to live his life, understand his family and find his own voice through the music of American rock star Bruce Springsteen.”

As for the post on Turkey, that will come.

(*) For the record, my first concert was Led Zeppelin in 1970 (in Milwaukee). Then, from 1973 to 1976, I saw (mostly in Chicago): Rod Stewart, John McLaughlin, Procul Harem, Lou Reed (twice), The Kinks, Jethro Tull, Traffic, The Moody Blues, The Allman Brothers Band, and Jefferson Starship. (I tried to get tickets for The Who when they came to Chicago in 1973 but no chance).

(**) The music radio stations I listen to in France are RFM and FIP.

UPDATE [July 15]: I have had occasion over the past two months to acquaint myself (via Spotify) with Bruce Springsteen’s voluminous œuvre—21-odd studio albums plus live albums and compilations—between 1973 and 2023: catching up on great music that I had shamefully ignored over the past fifty years. Having familiarized myself with most of his 450+ songs, I set out to create a playlist of my twenty favorite ones, but which ended up being closer to 160 (split into three playlists). From those I managed to put together a Top 20 list, which was tricky, as any number of songs could have figured on it, including almost all the tracks on the ‘Born to Run’, ‘Darkness at the Edge of Town’, and ‘Born in the USA’ albums (masterpieces all). Here’s the list in descending order, with good YouTubes I found of each:

20. Brilliant Disguise (1987)

19. Downbound Train (1984)

18. Prove It All Night (1978)

17. Lonesome Day (2002)

16. Night (1975)

15. Jackson Cage (1980)

14. Tunnel of Love (1987)

13. Born to Run (1975)

12. Point Blank (1980)

11. Two Hearts (1980)

10. Dancing in the Dark (1984)

9. She’s the One (1975)

8. The River (1980)

7. Jungleland (1975)

6. Ghosts (2020)

5. Sundown (2019)

4. Human Touch (1992)

3. Candy’s Room (1978)

2. My Love Will Not Let You Down (1982/1998)

1. Badlands (1978)

These three performances of ‘Badlands’ are slightly distinct but each is as excellent as the other.

For a full 30-song, three hour concert setlist, the list may be topped off with these (listed more or less in chronological order):

Growin’ Up (1973)

4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy) (1973)

Because the Night (1978/2010)

Racing In the Street (1978)

Roulette (1979/1998)

Bobby Jean (1984)

Tougher Than the Rest (1987)

Murder Incorporated (1995)

The Rising (2002)

Nightshift (1985/2022)

Israel launched air strikes in Gaza the night before last, as one may have heard, targeting top operatives of Islamic Jihad in their homes while they were presumably asleep. Among the 13 persons killed by the IDF bombers—murdered, in effect—were four women and four children, including the three in the photo above (source: Sara Roy email list), the older ones named Ali and Mayar, their father being one of the Islamic Jihad officials.

This looks to have been the other child.

The IDF spokesperson told the press that while they were aware that there had been “some collateral,” the airstrikes were “carried out with professionalism and precision in planning and execution.” Which is to say, the IDF knew that the “collateral” would be in the houses they were going to bomb and certainly be killed, but what the heck, that’s the breaks.

The Israeli rapid response operation on social media, in the old standby, immediately accused the targeted terrorists of using the children—sleeping in their beds in their home—as human shields—as if they’re supposed to live and sleep away from their parents and somewhere other than their homes—and that, in any case, the Geneva Conventions absolve the Israelis for killing civilians if they so happen to be killing terrorists (or “terrorists”) in the process. And if those arguments don’t convince, the hasbara operatives have the usual whataboutist retorts at their disposal (another old standby)..

But whatever justification Israel advances for killing terrorists (or “terrorists”), while the latter are at home with their families or otherwise taking a break from the muqawama, one thing is certain, which that the terrorists/”terrorists” who are killed will be quickly replaced, and by men who are invariably tougher and more politically uncompromising. In other words, Israel’s decades-long policy of targeted assassination—which it has carried out more than any other state in the world—has contributed nothing to Israel’s security or in any way degraded the organizations that threaten it (Hamas, Hizbullah, Islamic Jihad). If anything, the latter are militarily stronger today than ever—as the Israelis have, in the case of Hamas, learned in the IDF’s successive operations in Gaza (2008-09, 2012, 2014, 2021).

So when bombs are dropped on the homes of Hamas/IJ officials, one of the motives, when not simple vengeance, is to inflict fear on the neighbors in the densely-populated quarters where the officials live. The killing of women, children, medical doctors, and other civilians may not be deliberate but is inevitable nonetheless. If these killings are not bona fide war crimes, then Israeli officials should explain why and in the appropriate venue. #ICC #TheHague

Prior to the Gaza bombing, I was reading about Israel demolishing an EU-funded Palestinian school, near Bethlehem, the story circulating on social media and WhatsApp, mainly by indignant American Jews (in my news feeds at least).

The Facebook friend who posted the above—and who is also a friend in real life—is a political science MENA specialist and well-known in academic and policy circles, and with whom I would argue about the Arab-Israeli conflict back in the ’80s, during our graduate school days. He naturally defended Israel but like so many liberal Zionists with a deep attachment to Israel—and I knew so many back in the day—his views evolved as Israel moved right and the occupation started to look permanent, to the point where he sometimes seems to outflank me in his indignation at the actions of the Israeli government (maybe because it is felt so personally).

À propos, I was sent yesterday by a friend—who may or may not have been a liberal Zionist in his youth but has a strong personal connection to Israel—a recent Gallup poll on partisan attitudes toward Israel and how those of Democrats have shifted toward the Palestinians.

This has been the trend for a while, which we all know, and is only normal given that Israel is now a deep red state—as red as Alabama and Oklahoma—and where Trump would win in a walk against any Democrat. Add to this the images of children who will soon be blown to smithereens by bombs dropped from F-35s, and with no apologies or assumption of any responsibility by the state dropping the bombs, and one gets the reaction I’ve heard de vive voix from literally four Jewish friends over the past two months, which is, in effect, “I want nothing to do with a place that thinks and acts this way.”

As for the friend who sent the Gallup poll—and who is politically closer to the center than to the left—he has succeeded in persuading me on the validity of applying the apartheid label to Israel. Which is to say, I’ve changed my mind on this.

More on this à l’occasion.

The French pension reform

Full table here

Today is the 11th journée de mobilisation—of demonstrations and strikes—against Emmanuel Macron’s reform of the pension system. The movement has dominated French politics for the past the three months—the 1st journée was on January 19th—as those outside France who normally don’t follow this country too closely are likely aware, in view of the sensationalist TV coverage of the antics of the small numbers of Black Blocs, anarchists, and other hell-raisers, who inevitably infiltrate what are otherwise orderly marches—of a million or more law-abiding citizens across France on each journée—led by the eight major trade union federations, which are exceptionally united in their rejection of Macron’s reform.

I have naturally been following the movement though from a distance, as I am personally not concerned by the issue at hand and have not had strong views on it. And I have not attended a single one of the demos (unlike my wife, who’s been on almost all, under the banner of her union, in which she remains active as a retiree). Manifs of the syndicats and radical/far-left hangers-on are a French classic; they’re choreographed, or almost so, and rarely cause governments to quake. After marching in one or two, you get the idea. And speaking for myself, classic questions sociales stoke my passions somewhat less than do questions de société, or outright political ones, such as this. I have thus not felt overly motivated to write about the present movement, in part because I have also not felt competent to weigh in on the policy side of the pension issue or to take a decided position on Macron’s reform. The politics of the issue—how it has played out in parliament, of Macron himself, the disorder at the demos, the action of the police and other actors, etc.—are another matter, however, and on which I have plenty to say. And stateside friends and family have been asking for my views and when I’m going to do an AWAV on the subject. So here is my 2¢.

N.B. I am only going to discuss the policy side here, specifically the raising of the retirement age from 62 to 64, on which the unions and the public—and President Macron himself—have been fixated. I’ll take up the politics in the next post on the subject. On raising the retirement age, there is a manifest consensus—or, rather, an ideological reflex—among France-based Anglo-American journalists—apart from those on the left, of whom there are a few—and other such observers that Macron’s reform is so obviously necessary that it goes without saying. C’est une évidence. It hardly even needs to be argued. My good friend Claire Berlinski, une bonne libérale, dans le sens classique, thus had a lengthy post dated March 24th, “The riots (again) in France,” on her Substack site, The Cosmopolitan Globalist, in which she offered “a short debate” on France’s retirement age, beginning with “arguments in favor of raising the retirement age.” These consisted of a visual presentation of a succession of tables and graphs, of demographic projections and other data, a cursory examination of which will lead any sentient reader to naturally conclude—as, again, it goes without saying—that if the retirement age is not raised to (at minimum) 64, the French pension system will, by the end of this decade, become unsustainable or simply go bankrupt. Case closed.

Another doomsayer is John Lichfield, who resides in a village in Normandy and has been, as I have long asserted, the best Anglo-American journalist reporting on this country over the years (since I started to read him in The Independent in the early ’00s, in any case). But even the best and brightest among us occasionally misfire, and such is the case with Lichfield in his March 27th piece in the webzine UnHerd on the pension battle, which carries the unfortunate title, “Macron needs to be more like Thatcher: France is refusing to grow up.” British editorialists and headline writers would be well-advised to shelve the old saw about how the delusional French, collectively depicted as petulant children who won’t eat their spinach, need a “Margaret Thatcher”: a casse-couilles who will “impose reform on the country for its own good and against its will.”

Spare us, please. Nice how Thatcherism has worked out in Britain since her day, BTW—the sorry state of that country being her legacy—and as if France herself has not already enacted five pension reform laws over the past thirty years, along with other neoliberal reform measures, pour le meilleur et pour le pire.

For Lichfield as for Claire, raising the retirement age to 64 is une évidence, with no valid arguments against. So in Claire’s “short debate,” the single “argument” that she advances against raising the retirement age consists of a 17-second video posted on Twitter, of apparent protestors setting the mediaeval-era front door of the Bordeaux city hall on fire—and who carried out the act, so we are to understand, out of genuine opposition to Macron’s reform bill. (Though it appears that the arsonists were, in fact, far right-wing smashers who had nothing to do with the pension reform demo.)

Having looked into the 64 question, as it were, I am persuaded that those opposed to Macron’s reform are indeed right on the retirement age. And it is not only the syndicats and gauchistes who are critical of raising the retirement age but also prominent mainstream economists, one of whom is the libéral, erstwhile Macron adviser Philippe Aghion, formerly of Harvard University, nowadays a professor at the Collège de France and INSEAD. In a tribune in Les Echos dated Oct. 6, 2022, “La retraite à 65 ans serait injuste et inefficace,” Aghion begins

[T]o be able to invest more and better in education, health, energy transition and reindustrialization, while remaining credible vis-à-vis financial markets and our European partners [emphasis added], France has had to increase its employment and workforce participation rates. One of the levers to achieve this is pension reform. There is a fair and efficient way to reform our pension system and an unfair and less efficient way. The unfair and less efficient way is to raise the legal retirement age to 65. [N.B. All translations into English are by DeepL and edited by me]

Aghion continued in this vein in an interview in Libération (Dec. 8, 2022):

Economic rationality dictates that pension reform should be driven by the number of years one pays into the system, not the retirement age. (…) Setting the minimum age at 65 [the government’s initial proposal] would force low-skilled individuals, who started working early and have a lower life expectancy, to work even longer. On the other hand, it makes little or no difference for more qualified employees, who have a higher than average life expectancy and who enter the labor market later than others: most of us already leave the labor market after age 65. All in all, setting the minimum age at 65 will only affect the least qualified individuals, whose [Social Security taxes] are lower than those of more highly skilled individuals and who are less employable than the latter. So it is not only unfair but also inefficient, and I have not seen a convincing economic argument to the contrary.

The manifest unfairness of raising the retirement age—of its disproportionately negative impact on certain categories of workers—has been underscored by many. In an article in Social Europe (March 1st), “What’s driving the social crisis in France,” Guillaume Duval, former editor-in-chief of Alternatives Économiques and friend, thus writes:

The French pensions system is built around two main parameters: the minimum retirement age (currently 62) and the minimum duration of contributions required to obtain a full pension—42 years, with a planned increase to 43 years in 2035. (As well as raising the minimum retirement age to 64, under the proposal this threshold would be brought forward to 2027.)

The project is particularly unfair since it would penalise those who started working, and paying contributions, early. These are often the people with the lowest salaries, the toughest working conditions and the shortest life expectancy, while those who have studied at university, and had already had to leave after the age of 64, will be little affected. The government has been obliged to propose some modifications to limit the injustice but they are not easily accessible and many problems remain.

This is what scandalises the public. All the more so since Macron had explained at length during his first term that he would not take such a measure, because it was too unfair. We have had pension reforms over and over again: in 1993, in 2003, in 2010 … Each time the government swears that this is the last one and the system will be safe for decades. And each time it comes back a few years later to harden the system again.

True, the share of gross domestic product devoted to pensions in France, at 15.9 per cent (including disability), is among the highest in Europe, although behind Greece and Italy. But this reflects the past.

For the future, because of reforms already introduced, France is on the contrary one of the only countries in the European Union where, in spite of the ageing population, the share of pensions in GDP should decrease, according to the European Commission. By 2070, France would no longer rank third in this regard but ninth, close to the EU average.

Given the increase in the proportion of pensioners among the population, this implies a sharp deterioration for future pensioners. The public have understood this perfectly well. This is why they do not accept that the government wants to go even further, to cut another 0.7 percentage points of GDP from pensions expenditure.

Moreover, while the minimum legal retirement age is at the bottom of the EU spectrum, what mainly determines the effective retirement age in France is the duration of contributions. This effective pension age is already increasing rapidly and will continue to do so with the arrival in retirement of the first generations with mass access to higher education. Even without reform, it will reach 64 in the coming years.

For all these reasons, the public do not see the urgency of such a reform. If there is a limited problem of balancing the pensions budget over the next few years, we could increase slightly the contributions of employers and employees.

In an interview (March 21st) on France Culture’s L’Invité(e) des Matins, Patrick Artus, chief economist at the Natixis investment bank and prolific author, critiques Macron’s “authoritarian method”—of his failure to enlist social actors in elaborating the pension reform—and his misplaced priorities. Artus deplores the fact

that this pension reform has not been placed at the heart of a structural problem of the French economy, which is the low level of the employment rate (the percentage of the working age population that has a job). The employment rate is 8 or 9 points lower in France than in Germany, Sweden or the Netherlands. The employment rate for people over 60 is 35%, whereas it is 60/65% in other countries (…) and the unemployment rate for young people is over 18%. This is essentially a problem of vocational training, skills and initial training. (…) All studies show that there is a deficiency in the education system. We had plenty of progress to make on the employment rate, by providing vocational training at all ages, with an incredible potential to increase tax revenues. It’s a great shame that we didn’t combine this reform with others.

As Artus repeatedly reminds readers (or listeners), if France had the same employment and workforce participation rates as Germany, the French pension system would be running a surplus. There would be no need for reform.

For a viewpoint from Germany, here is an article (via Courrier International) from the Berlin daily Die Tageszeitung, datelined January 20th:

Attack on the social system.

Pension at 64 – wouldn’t it be nice? Anyone who wants to understand the resistance to Macron’s pension reform needs to be familiar with the special features of the French social system.

Retiring at 64 with a full pension is something many people in Europe can only dream of. In France, however, the gradual increase in the retirement age from 62 today to 64 is an affront. But a simple comparison with the statutory retirement age in Germany or other EU countries is misleading. The figure alone would be taken out of context. To understand the current protests against Emmanuel Macron’s planned pension reform, one must also consider the very specific French context.

Since 1981, when Socialist President François Mitterrand lowered the retirement age to 60, this relatively early retirement has been considered a social achievement in France and the centerpiece of all social policy. Workers have long accepted that their low wages have been compensated by reasonably generous social benefits and by a functioning system.

In France, the old-age pension is part of the Sécurité Sociale, which also includes public health insurance, accident insurance, and the family allowance fund. Anyone who now wants to break a piece out of this overall structure must expect correspondingly fierce reactions. In the event of a defeat in this battle over the retirement age, many fear that the rest of social security will no longer be guaranteed either.

Raising the retirement age for those born after 1961 in the short term is tantamount to announcing the slaughter of a sacred cow. Those affected and the unions regard Macron’s plans as a frontal attack. Every time the government has shaken up social achievements so far, there have been very violent conflicts. In 1995, the Alain Juppé government had to withdraw a pension reform after several weeks of protests. Today, there is also the fact that in recent years many sections of the population have accumulated anger toward the “privileged” and the system, which can escalate quickly (as was the case with the yellow vest protests).

In France, too, life expectancy has risen, and many senior citizens would be fit enough to remain active beyond the age of 65. Already today, future retirees in France must have worked for 42 years and paid contributions into the pension scheme in order to receive full benefits, and since there are often too many gaps – the years of study do not count for most, for example – they already continue to work beyond the current official age limit of 62, if possible.

On the other hand, between the ages of 55 and 60, half have already left the workforce – and often not voluntarily. The supply of jobs for “seniors” on the labor market is meager. Macron’s call for them to work longer sounds hypocritical to them against this background. In reality, raising the retirement age and extending the required contribution years simply means a smaller pension in many cases.

There is more to be said about the factors driving the resistance to the pension reform—notably the conditions of work in France and power dynamics in the workplace—which I will take up next time.

À suivre.

Ihsane El Kadi

He has been one of Algeria’s best and brightest journalists over the past four decades and is now one of that country’s most high-profile political prisoners, having been sentenced by an Algiers court today to five years in prison and hit with a fine, in manifestly ridiculous, trumped-up charges, and with his Algiers-based media companies—Radio M and Maghreb Emergent—permanently shuttered. It was not unexpected but is an outrage nonetheless.

Algeria is, along with almost all of its MENA neighbors, witnessing a wave of political repression against non-Islamist regime critics unseen since at least the 1980s, as part of the military-backed power apparatus’s crackdown on the vestiges of the Hirak—the 2019-2021 protest movement that was so exhilarating and seemingly full of promise in its early days. Despite periodic bouts of repression and targeted persecution of specific personalities, Algeria has had one of the most vibrant presses—Arabic and French—in the MENA region over the past 35 years, and which Ihsane El Kadi personified. Those days are in the past.

Numerous journalists and political activists have felt the repressive hand of the Algerian state over the past three years but I’m paying particular attention to El Kadi, as I have long been familiar with his journalism and am also personally acquainted with him. In my 1989-90 Algiers days, I read every article I saw that carried his signature—then in the daily Horizons—a number of which figured in footnotes in my doctoral thesis. During my last visit to Algeria, in May-June 2016, I met Ihsane for the first time, at the offices of the short-lived HuffPost Algeria (off Place Audin)—of which he was a founding partner—along with three of his illustrious veteran colleagues. After an hour-long radio debate on Radio M, they invited me to a café on Rue Didouche Mourad, during which we talked Algerian politics (what else?), present and past. It was one of the more interesting conversations I had on that trip (and conversations are never boring in Algeria). Ihsane was particularly warm and friendly.

For the anecdote, when we got up to leave, Ihsane said he had a particular matter he wanted to ask me about: the NBA finals that were underway, of the Golden State Warriors vs. the Oklahoma City Thunder. He knew more about it than I did, needless to say.

The LRB Blog has an informative post dated 6 Feb. 2023, “Free Ihsane El Kadi,” by Jack Brown.

[update below] [2nd update below] [3rd update below]

On this twentieth anniversary, give or take a day, of America’s unprovoked, unjustified invasion of Iraq, I am linking here to my lengthy AWAV post on the invasion’s tenth anniversary, of which I would change not a word if I were writing it today. And there’s not much I would add to those thoughts of a decade ago, except to underscore just how crazy the whole Iraq enterprise was: of the climate of hysteria in Washington at the time and incomprehensible notion that Iraq—a petrostate of 24 million inhabitants with a GDP the size of a small American city, broken by over twelve years of crippling economic sanctions and utterly isolated internationally, with not a single ally in the world—posed the slightest threat to the United States—and even if it had possessed “weapons of mass destruction” (what a deceptive expression that was!), which of course it did not (and that there was no credible evidence that it did). As for the awfulness of Saddam Hussein and his regime, sure, but one does not send the armada halfway around the world, wreak mass death and destruction, upend regional stability—relative as it may have been—and spend over $1 trillion in the process, for that reason alone. And it is hard to argue today that Saddam’s regime in 2002-03 was nastier than a host of regimes elsewhere, beginning with Afghanistan under the Taliban and the Assad dictatorship in Syria over the past five decades.

On Syria, the fiasco of the US enterprise in Iraq steeled my opposition to an eventual US intervention in the civil war there, as appalled and outraged as I was/am by the criminal Bashar al-Assad regime. Numerous friends and others I know—with whom I am otherwise on the same page politically—will never forgive Barack Obama for his refusal to militarily intervene in Syria in 2013 and after. Obama made two big mistakes on Syria: making the removal of Bashar from power a US policy objective—an objective that was unimpeachable but should not have been made explicit if the US were not going to actively try to bring it about—and drawing a red line on the use of chemical weapons—and then failing to act when they were. But these mistakes aside, I thought Obama did the right thing in not allowing the US to be pulled into a military quagmire in Syria, which would have certainly ended in a fiasco far greater than Iraq. And even if there were a hypothetical chance of a non-fiasco outcome—whatever that would have looked like—the US was simply not in a position to wage another war in the Middle East in the wake of the Iraq fiasco—and in a country and conflict as complex as Syria and where consequential outside actors—who had greater interests in Syria than did the US—were heavily implicated (Russia, Iran, Hizbullah). After the decade-long fiasco in Iraq, the American public would not hear about the United States waging a ‘forever war’ in Syria—which is why Obama decided that the red line was no longer one.

On the case of liberals who jumped on the Bush-Cheney bandwagon in 2003, one may listen to Guardian columnist Jonathan Freedland’s 35-minute podcast discussion with erstwhile liberal hawk Peter Beinart, who explains his thinking of the time and why, along with so many, he came to regret having supported military intervention in Iraq.

I was not, in fact, unsympathetic to some of the arguments of some of the liberal hawks, as I made clear in my tenth anniversary post, but also made clear in the months preceding the war—in a series of email essays written in 2002-03 and assembled in an AWAV post titled The Iraq War file—that a US military invasion of Iraq would very likely be a fiasco. I thus wrote on February 1, 2003: “I would put the probability of an occupation of Iraq ending in fiasco on the order of 98%, which is why I ultimately have to be against an invasion (not to mention the terrible consequences this will inevitably have for the Iraqi population).”

I may have erred in some of my predictions but was prescient in others, if I may say so.

Of the numerous retrospectives on the anniversary, I will cite two that I think are particularly good. One is the powerful ‘long read’ in The Guardian by journalist Ghaith Abdul-Ahad, “Baghdad memories: what the first few months of the US occupation felt like to an Iraqi.” The lede: “When I was 28, the US arrived in Baghdad. The soldiers were announced as liberators and their leaders talked of democracy. I watched the regime and Saddam statues fall, chaos reign and a sectarian war unfold.”

Abdul-Ahad’s essay is adapted from his book, published this month by Knopf, A Stranger in Your Own City: Travels in the Middle East’s Long War. It is no doubt a great read.

Another article, in Prospect magazine, is “Iraq, the fallout: Two decades on from the US-led invasion, Iraq is still suffering from violence and corruption that the war left behind,” by journalist Lizzie Porter, who is based in Iraq and Turkey, and is senior correspondent at Iraq Oil Report.

When beginning this post I was reminded of an exceptional two-part, 5½-hour long documentary by France-based Iraqi filmmaker Abbas Fahdel, titled Homeland: Iraq Year Zero, which opened theatrically here in February 2016 and that I saw at the time (trailer here). I found the documentary so excellent that I was going to devote a dithyrambic AWAV post to it, but never did. Seven years later, here’s a description of the film and with a strong recommendation to see it if one can (and can set aside 5+ hours to do so). This from one website:

In February 2002 – about a year before the U.S. invasion – Iraqi filmmaker Abbas Fahdel traveled home from France to capture everyday life as his country prepared for war. He concentrated on family and friends, including his 12-year-old nephew, Haider, as they went about their daily lives, which had come to include planning for shortages of food, water and power. No strangers to war, the Iraqis thought they understood what was coming, and could even manage to be grimly humorous about what they felt would likely be a major and lengthy inconvenience. And then, the war began.

When Fahdel resumed filming in 2003, two weeks after the invasion, daily activities have come to a near standstill, the city is overrun with foreign soldiers, and many areas of Baghdad had been closed off to ordinary citizens. Iraqis endure, seemingly as unwitting as Americans themselves about what further tragedy awaits. Fahdel’s epic yet intimate film paints a compelling portrait of people struggling to survive while their civilization, dating back to ancient times, is destroyed around them.

And from another site:

Homeland (Iraq Year Zero) is a riveting home-movie chronicle of life in Iraq before and after the US invasion. Offering all-too-rare images of everyday life in Iraq, the film closely follows extended family members and friends of director Abbas Fahdel as they brace for the long impending attack and then struggle to survive the disastrous consequences of American imperialism. Leaving the invasion itself eerily absent, Homeland (Iraq Year Zero) is cleaved into two epic chapters starkly separated by a dark, gaping chasm. Part 1. Before the Fall offers a touching portrait of middle-class Iraq, assembled from extended domestic scenes and debates among Baghdad friends and neighbors, as well as a wedding that becomes an emotional centerpiece of the entire film. Part 2. After the Battle bravely takes to the street to survey, with shock and unspoken outrage, the ruthless destruction of public and private space wrought by the occupying US forces.

As I saw the film seven years ago, it is not fresh in my mind, though I can make a couple of comments about it. One, which one reads above, is that it gives a better idea of what life was like for urban Iraqis at the time than any cinematic treatment one will see. The other, from the second part, when American troops were patrolling the streets of Baghdad, is the utter futility of the American enterprise in Iraq. The Americans were in over their heads in Iraq, occupying a country and people of whom they knew nothing and understood even less. Iraq was Mission Impossible for America. Fiasco was preordained.

UPDATE: In a March 20th L’Heure du Monde podcast, Le Monde editorialist Alain Frachon spoke of a conversation he had had with former DGSE director Jean-Claude Cousseran (2000-02) in the run-up to the US invasion, who told Frachon that, in the estimation of French intelligence, the Iraqis had no nuclear program or chemical weapons—what existed of both having been dismantled by UN inspectors in the 1990s—and that while it was possible that the Iraqis possessed a quantity of anthrax, they had no delivery system to weaponize it.

2nd UPDATE: Mehdi Hasan, who is the most redoubtable interviewer on American television, had a (good, civilized) 12-minute debate on his MSNBC show (March 31) with Tom Nichols, on whether or not George W. Bush should be prosecuted for war crimes in Iraq, as all agree that Vladimir Putin should be for Ukraine (watch here). Mehdi naturally says yes, the NeverTrumper ex-Republican Nichols—who supported the Iraq invasion in 2003 before changing his mind several years later—says no. My reflexive sympathies are with Mehdi, though I will side more with Nichols on the Iraq-Ukraine comparison, which Nichols contests and that I think is valid only up to a point. In addition to differences between the two cases that Nichols cites, I would add three: 1. Regardless of some of the rhetoric in Washington in 2003, the United States never had the vocation, let alone ability, to permanently occupy Iraq or turn it into a vassal state. This was never in the cards. I was already arguing in 2003 that the Americans would eventually pack up and leave Iraq, and sooner rather later. Putin’s designs on Ukraine, it goes without saying, are otherwise. 2. Though the US set up an occupation regime via the Coalition Provisional Authority, it was not meant to last—and it did for only a year. Moreover, the only Iraqi political party the CPA banned was the Ba’ath (a big mistake in itself). The Iraqi Governing Council created by the CPA—which later evolved into the Iraqi parliament—included all the other political forces in Iraq, long banned and repressed, from Islamists to the Communist party (historically one of the most significant in the Arab world) and the Kurdish and other regional parties. Say what one will about Bush and the “neocons” but they did sincerely believe that they could bring democracy to Iraq. The comparison with Putin and Ukraine hardly necessitates explanation. 3. The US military and its mercenary auxiliaries committed war crimes (Abu Ghraib, Haditha massacre, Nisour Square massacre, etc.) and frequently behaved poorly toward Iraqis, but their overall comportment toward civilians simply does not compare with that of the Russians in Ukraine today. Again, this hardly necessitates explanation.

3rd UPDATE: Radio France Internationale had a two-part must-listen panel discussion (April 1-2; on podcast here and here) taking stock 20 years after, with top Iraq specialists Loulouwa Al Rachid (who authored the ICG report, ‘Voices from the Iraqi street’, discussed in my 10th anniversary AWAV post), Myriam Benraad, and Adel Bakawan, and with left-leaning American University of Paris professor Philip Golub commenting on US policy.

2023 Oscars

[updates below]

This is my first Oscars post since 2020. I didn’t—or, rather, couldn’t—have one in 2021, as thanks to the pandemic and months-long closing of the cinemas in France, I hadn’t seen most of the nominated films; and too many of last year’s nominees I also hadn’t seen, as they were on streaming platforms I do not have access to (none apart from Netflix), had not yet opened here, or that I didn’t bother with. But I have seen most of this year’s nominees in the top categories, enough for an AWAV post at least.

As much as I love movies, I generally don’t read much about cinema—and rarely read reviews before seeing the pic—and don’t look for pundit speculation as to which movie is going to win what award. I did, however, come across Oscar predictions yesterday by David Sims of The Atlantic and NYT columnist Ross Douthat, both of whom are nigh certain that Everything Everywhere All at Once will win Best Picture, plus a slew of other awards—that it is a film “a remarkable number of people just passionately loved” and will have a “triumphant night” today March 12th. Of the ten Best Picture nominees, there are three I haven’t seen, this being one of them. I paid no attention to it when it opened here last August and could not bring myself to download on VOD after seeing the trailer, which did not pique my curiosity, au contraire. I am really not a fan of science fiction, though will consent to see a film in the genre if recommended by reliable persons. There has, however, been deep division over this one, including on Facebook threads I’ve seen, with some liking or loving the pic, and others disliking it, finding it insufferable, or simply ceasing to watch after 15-20 minutes (a risk in my case). If its night is indeed triumphant, I’ll probably succumb and check it out.

[UPDATE: ‘Everything Everywhere All at Once’ reopened in several Paris theaters following its Oscars triumph, so I went to see it (Mar. 26), at a packed salle of mostly younger people. Had I watched the movie on VOD at home, I would have turned it off after maybe half an hour, 45 minutes max. It was already hard enough to follow from the beginning but once it descended into sci-fi/fantasy, I lost the thread entirely. I couldn’t follow what the hell was happening or why, and frankly didn’t care. One is assaulted with rapid fire, non-stop special effects and which make no goddamned sense. And the non-stop violence—of people beating up on one another, throwing projectiles, and Kung-Fu fighting, and for no apparent reason—was off-putting. This is not a movie for someone my age. I can understand it winning the technical Oscars and maybe even some of the acting ones—maybe—but Best Picture? GMAB! As for it being the first Asian-American movie to win such accolades, so what? BFD!]

One reads in the NYT that two of the Best Picture nominees are “four-quadrant” movies, this being a Hollywood trade expression for a movie that is “popular with everyone, everywhere,” that prompts all demographics to buy a ticket: young, old, female, male. The two in question so happen to be the other ones I did not see, Top Gun: Maverick and Avatar: The Way of Water, planetary mega blockbusters both, as everyone knows (‘Avatar’, which has made over $2 billion worldwide, sold almost as many tix at Paris theaters as the population of the city). My not seeing the two was not deliberate. The former I just didn’t get around to—it wasn’t a priority, either en salle or in VOD—and likewise with the latter, being put off, in addition, by the 3+ hour runtime (as for the sci-fi/fantasy aspect, I did see the first ‘Avatar’ thirteen years back, which I did not regret, so it being of the sci-fi genre is not redhibitory in and of itself). I’ll catch up with both of these at some point, inshallah.

[UPDATE: I saw ‘Avatar’ (Mar. 21) and in IMAX 3D (my very first time), which is the only way to see a movie like that, for me at least. It’s quite impressive as a visual spectacle. As for the story, bof. It’s a cartoon, or all but one. That said, I appreciated the implicit écolo/progressive message, of the Na’vi humanoids living in harmony with nature, and with the bad guy real humans—led by the evil Colonel Miles Quaritch (his avatar), a stereotypical American soldier with his stupid-ass military lingo—100% MAGA, and who [spoiler alert!] happily get the shit kicked out of them by the otherwise primitive Na’vi in the climactic battle scene (of course). I don’t imagine that MAGA Americans liked it too much. N.B. As it’s the sequel of a movie that came out 13 years ago, I had to consult the Wikipedia page of the first Avatar to remind myself of the origins of the story.]

As for the Best Picture nominees that I have seen, voilà my brief takes.

Tár: An extraordinary film, which had me absorbed for its entire 2½+ hours, and with a tour de force performance by Cate Blanchett as Lydia Tár, the megalomaniacal, borderline sociopathic orchestra conductor—all going to show that powerful, narcissistic women can behave as odiously as men. There is unanimity on the film among everyone I know who has seen it—and everyone over a certain age, say, early 40s (i.e. Boomers and Gen-Xers), loved the scene—already famous—where Lydia Tár puts the “BIPOC pangender” student, named Max, in his place, thus scoring one against the wokesters—though which inevitably boomeranged against her later, the Millennials and Gen-Zers exacting their revenge. “Finally, a great movie about cancel culture,” dixit Michelle Goldberg. While Maestra Tár was, objectively speaking, right in what she said to snowflake Max, the novelist Zadie Smith, in a lengthy, nuanced NYRB review essay on the film, wondered about her pedagogical approach: “As we learn in her classroom, Tár’s method is direct combat. For she is Gen X—like me—and one of the striking things about my crowd is that…we prefer to scorn emotions personally…and also to trample over other peoples’. It doesn’t occur to Tár that sweet young Max may have serious trouble with anxiety—although we in the audience certainly notice his knees bouncing frantically. The power differential between these two means that a rant Tár might launch into around a dinner table in Berlin—to much receptive laughter—is experienced as ritual humiliation by a young man exposed in front of his peers.” Yes, of course. Empathy and tact do not hurt, particularly with a student less than half your age.

The Banshees of Inisherin: A terrific film, and with exceptional performances, particularly by Colin Farrell. As with ‘Tár’, I was thoroughly absorbed in this one, as were most of those I know who’ve seen it. There are a few dissenters, though, who found the story not to be credible, of Colm (Brendan Gleeson) terminating his lifelong friendship with Pádraic (Farrell) for no apparent reason, and then threatening to cut off his own fingers one by one if Pádraic wouldn’t leave him alone—a threat that he (spoiler alert!) made good on. Of course it’s not credible if seen in a literal sense, but the film should not be taken that way. It’s a fable, with things that happen, notably the terminated friendship and finger cutting, to be seen metaphorically, not in the first degree. E.g. the Irish Civil War that is underway in the distance (it’s 1923), in which men who were bound to one another against the English, who were united on just about everything, suddenly and stupidly trying kill one another. Vox’s Alissa Wilkinson has an informative essay on this, submitting that the film “is great—and even better if you know the history behind it.” See as well the insightful essay by Andrew Sullivan, who has Irish roots, “Off the coast of modernity: Martin McDonagh’s poignant and hilarious parable,” in his Substack site.

The Fabelmans: French critics have been falling over themselves with praise for this one, collectively scoring it a 4.9 on the Allociné website, signifying that the overwhelming majority are calling it a masterpiece. No less. This is unprecedented, to say the least. It is also excessive, needless to say. Absurdly so, in fact. The movie is, as one knows, Steven Spielberg’s coming-of-age autoportrait, of growing up in 1950s-60s Arizona, in a Jewish family—in a part of America where there weren’t too many other Jews around—and how he came to love movies and how to make them. In this respect, it’s a perfectly serviceable biopic and entertaining enough, though is, at 2½ hours runtime, a little long. I began to get impatient two-thirds of the way through. I also had a qualm about Spielberg’s depiction of his high school senior year in California, in which he looks to have embellished some of his memories. E.g. the bullying he was subjected to by the WASP jocks; count me as dubious but this kind of bullying simply does not happen among 17-18 year-olds, particularly the college bound. Bullying is a middle school thing; it does not happen in the 12th grade. The religiosity of his evangelical Protestant girlfriend was also a little over-the-top (though this one may have been tongue-in-cheek on Spielberg’s part). And a fun little detail: not a single one of the teenagers lit up a cigarette, when, in 1964, at least half of them would have been smoking once they were outside school grounds. So while French critics rated the pic a 5.0 (chef d’œuvre) on Allociné, I gave it a 3.0 max (not bad/okay).

Elvis: It’s a biopic, so you know what’s going to happen. Except when you don’t. Elvis Presley was a personality in popular culture while I was growing up and was often enough in the news—particularly when he died (I was 21)—but he was also slightly before my time. I was not a fan of his music in my youth, nor was anyone else I knew. And the radio stations I listened to (in Milwaukee and Chicago) didn’t play him. Urban Americans in my social milieu, who were born in the mid 1950s and after, did not listen to Elvis. That said, I was generally impressed with his songs when I would hear them. So, respect for Elvis as a chanteur. Watching the biopic, which I assume was a faithful portrayal his formative years, I realized that I did not know about his impoverished childhood, friendly relationships with Afro-Americans—which was not too common for whites in the Jim Crow South—and—a central theme of the film—the tyrannical control his manager, Colonel Tom Parker (played by Tom Hanks), exercised over him (that he prevented Elvis from holding concerts outside the United States, among so many other things). In short, I thought it was a well-done, well-acted movie (Austin Butler is good as Elvis), and I learned things from it.

Women Talking: I saw this one last Wednesday, the day it opened in France, in a near empty salle off the Champs-Élysées. I would be surprised if the salles have filled up for it since. The film does have its qualities, it should be said, notably the first-rate all-female ensemble cast and the dialogue—which is all that happens; it’s a 100 minute talk fest, almost all inside a barn—of the women debating what to do about the sexual abuse they have all been subjected to by the male members of their Mennonite cult, who have kept them in lifelong isolation from the outside world. One is naturally reminded of Albert Hirschman’s Exit, Voice, and Loyalty. I will admit to having briefly nodded off at one point, though didn’t feel that I had missed anything important, as one gets the idea early on. Its qualities aside, this is not a fun movie to sit through.

Triangle of Sadness: Filthy rich people on a luxury cruise treat the ship’s personnel like dirt, and then they all get stranded on an inhospitable desert island, with the proles and their superior survival skills turning the tables on the parasitic, useless rich people. The theme is, as they would say where I live, un tantinet racoleur, i.e. it appeals to our visceral sentiments. Everyone wants to stick it to filthy rich people, after all, and feels schadenfreude when they suddenly suffer material misfortune, n’est-ce pas? I was recently listening to a Bulwark podcast discussion, during which one of the Bulwark regulars—a self-described low taxes, laissez-faire libertarian—described an otherwise enjoyable vacation he had been treated to on St. Barts, where he found the denizens and holiday-makers to be so filthy rich—and with their almost unlimited amounts of money not the product of hard work or anything useful they had ever done—that his sentiment while in this upper class tropical paradise was “we need to tax the hell out of these people!” To which I say, “yes, that and a whole lot more!” As for the movie, I didn’t like it too much and was mystified that it won the Palme d’or at Cannes (and is now nominated for the best picture Oscar). It is also a multinational/mainly Swedish production, not American, so shouldn’t even be in this category to begin with.

All Quiet on the Western Front: I watched this on Netflix the other day. Everyone has read the book (in high school if you’re American) and maybe seen at least one of the previous cinematic versions. It is being said that this one is the best of the three (and the 1930 one is considered a chef d’œuvre). It is indeed an excellent film, conveying the horror of war more effectively than any other recent one that comes to mind. One thinks throughout of the Donbass today, as I write. And in the World War I genre, it’s a couple of notches above Sam Mendes’ ‘1917’. As with the above one, though, it’s not American, so one wonders what it’s doing in this category.

Then there are these, which figure in the Best Actor category.

The Whale: The film is, in effect, a stage play, taking place almost entirely in a living room, where Charlie (Brendan Fraser), a morbidly obese college instructor (adjunct) of English literature and creative writing, spends his life, teaching his courses on Zoom but not showing his face, so the students won’t see that he weighs at least 600 lbs, if not more. Charlie seems like a good man—conscientious, generous, and kind, and a good teacher to boot—so one wants to sympathize with him despite his physical condition. It would be easier to do that if his obesity were genetic or the result of something beyond his control, but learning that it was self-inflicted and then observing his gluttony, it’s hard to maintain sympathy. The film is both engaging and disquieting, if not creepy at points. Fatphobes are not likely to change their attitude after seeing it. Brendan Fraser—an actor with whom I am not familiar (I’ve seen him in two films, in the late ’90s/early ’00s, which I barely remember, and his performance not at all)—is apparently favored to win the Oscar for his role. He’s not my first choice, or second.

Aftersun: I was looking forward to this one, in view of the top reviews on both sides of the pond and, above all, the story, of a woman’s memory of a vacation she took with her father, Calum (Paul Mescal), twenty years earlier, at age 11, on the Turkish coast in the late ’90s. A father and daughter bonding. As the father of a daughter who was once 11 (not an easy age, il faut le dire), I could relate to the theme. But while I thought it a generally good film, it did not entirely resonate with me, mainly as I did not relate to Calum. He’s not my kind of guy and his relationship with his daughter did not remind me of the one I had with mine at that age. I also did not find Paul Mescal’s performance memorable and am puzzled that it is deemed Oscar-worthy.

Living: Rodney Williams (Bill Nighy) is a lonely, taciturn 60-year-old widower and colorless administrator in the London public works department, who learns that he has terminal cancer and with six months left to live. Having led a manifestly boring, insipid life, he finally comes alive during those six months, living life as it should be lived: to the fullest. It’s a subtle and moving film IMHO, impeccably situated at a particular moment in time (early 1950s England), and with Bill Nighy’s performance worthy of an Oscar nomination (though maybe not to win it). Every last critic has naturally mentioned that the film is a remake of Akira Kurosawa’s 1952 ‘Ikiru’, universally considered a chef d’œuvre and that all the critics have naturally seen, and are naturally comparing ‘Living’ to. I’ve seen several Japanese classics from the 1950s but not ‘Ikiru’. I should.

My vote:

BEST PICTURE: ‘Tár’.
Obviously. ‘The Banshees of Inisherin’ is a close second. ‘Everything Everywhere All at Once’ looks almost sure to win, though.

BEST DIRECTOR: Martin McDonagh (‘The Banshees of Inisherin’).
Why not? It will, however, probably be the two guys who directed ‘Everything Everywhere All at Once’.

BEST ACTOR: Colin Farrell (‘The Banshees of Inisherin’).
Hands down. Austin Butler in ‘Elvis’ is second. As for the others, see above.

BEST ACTRESS: Cate Blanchett (‘Tár’).
Hands down. And regardless of the competition. The only other one I can speak to here is Michelle Williams in ‘The Fabelmans’, who wasn’t bad. I cannot speak to Ana de Armas in ‘Blonde’, Andrea Riseborough in ‘To Leslie’, or Michelle Yeoh in ‘Everything…’, as I haven’t seen these.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR: Brendan Gleeson (‘The Banshees of Inisherin’).
Of course. I am not familiar with Brian Tyree Henry and have not seen ‘Causeway’.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Angela Bassett (‘Black Panther: Wakanda Forever’).
I actually have not seen this one—it was not at all a priority when it played here (I saw the first ‘Black Panther’ in 2018, which was quite enough)—but am sure she’s good and deserves to win (and likely will). Hong Chau is meritorious in ‘The Whale’.

BEST INTERNATIONAL FEATURE FILM: ‘All Quiet on the Western Front.’
This goes without saying. I liked the Polish film EO. Haven’t seen the others (though want to, particularly ‘Argentina, 1985’).

2023 César awards

[update below]

I’ve had a post on the César awards every year for the past ten, it not being a ceremony I actually care about but which offers the opportunity to write about French movies of the past year considered by the French movie industry—but not necessarily by me—to have been the best. The event is tomorrow (Friday), at the Olympia hall (in the 9th arrondissement). The full list of nominees is here. Leading with eleven nominations is ‘L’Innocent’ (The Innocent), followed by ten for ‘La Nuit du 12’ (The Night of the 12th), nine each for ‘En corps’ (Rise) and ‘Pacifiction: Tourment sur les Îles’, seven apiece for ‘Les Amandiers’ (Forever Young) and ‘Novembre’, and four each for ‘À plein temps’ (Full Time) and ‘Saint Omer’. I’ve seen just about all of those—in the theater, a couple via streaming— in the categories I weigh in on. There were a number of good to very good French movies last year, though only two that I rated ‘excellent’ on Allociné—one of which receiving not a single César nomination, as was the case with several that I rated ‘très bien’.

Voilà my verdict.

BEST FILM: La Nuit du 12 (Night of the 12th).
This is one of the two French films of the year I rated ‘excellent’, and which appears to be the consensus choice to win this. Directed by Dominik Moll, it’s a slick, impeccably cast, acted, and paced police thriller—and with a feminist subtext—inspired by an actual fait divers, described in a book on the judicial police—with the movie shifting the crime scene from the Paris region to a town in the Alps, near Grenoble—in which a 20-year-old woman sans histoires, named Clara, is atrociously murdered while walking home late at night (on October 12, 2016) from a friend’s house in her quiet residential neighborhood, by a man laying in wait for her in a dark corner—one does not see his face—who douses her with gasoline and then sets her alight. Crimes don’t get more terrifying than this or murders more hideous. Two police detectives, Yohan and Marceau (Bastien Bouillon and Bouli Lanners, respectively), are put in charge of the investigation, which quickly leads to several men with whom (excepting one, maybe) Clara had had a casual relationship, and any one of whom is a possible suspect in the crime, each with a putative motive or in apparent possession of material evidence. But the evidence was either not conclusive or the alibis were convincing, so the case started to go cold, which fueled detective Yohan’s obsession with it—and with that, a reflection, echoed by more than one character, on what it is about so many men, who are driven into such jealous rage over women’s sexuality so as to commit acts of violence, including murder. After three years of going nowhere, the case was relaunched on the instruction of a female magistrate and which turned up a new lead, but—spoiler alert!—did not yield the culprit. So the case stayed cold (though I’m pretty sure I know who did it).

My runner-up is Cédric Klapisch’s feel-good En corps (Rise), whose protagonist is a 26-year-old professional ballerina named Élise (Marion Barbeau), who fractures her ankle during a performance at the Opera Garnier, the injury being so severe, she is so informed afterwards, that she will likely never dance again. As dancing is all she has ever done or wants to do, she sets out to prove the doctors and X-rays wrong, falls in with a contemporary dance troupe at its retreat in bucolic rural Brittany, where she learns an entirely new form of dancing—which includes break dancing—and finds romance while she’s at it. She returns to Paris with the troupe, performs publicly to a stellar reception, and voilà, le happy end! La vie est belle. The pic is a crowd-pleaser, the kind the grand public loves—it was the biggest box office hit by far of the five nominees (1.4 million tickets sold, which is a lot for France)—and which I don’t dislike myself when well done, which this one is. The supporting cast is tops.

In Louis Garrel’s L’Innocent (The Innocent), a crowd-pleasing crime comedy, protag Abel (Garrel himself) is panicked by the marriage of his twice-divorced 60-year-old mother (Anouk Grinberg), who teaches a theater acting class in a prison, with one of her prisoner students (Roschdy Zem), who is about to be released but with Abel not convinced that he has given up a life of crime. But Abel then comes to see lucrative possibilities in collaborating with his new stepfather, so with girlfriend (Noémie Merlant) they plan a heist. The pic’s a caper, entertaining and fun, and with plenty of laughs for those who laugh easily (which is not me; I’m a tough customer when it comes to the laugh-o-meter), though it’s hardly the best of the year in my book. Great choice of theme song, though: Gérard Blanc’s 1986 “Une autre histoire” (which may be heard in the trailer). Love that one!

Valeria Bruni Tedeschi’s Les Amandiers (Forever Young), set in the mid 1980s, is a semi-autobiographical trip down memory lane of the director’s two years as a student at the renowned theater school in Nanterre of the same name as the film, headed by the renowned figures in the theater world, Patrice Chéreau and Pierre Romans. VBT’s camarades at the school included Agnès Jaoui, Vincent Perez, and Marianne Denicourt—all of whom, one learns—as only initiates and insiders could possibly know—are played by youthful cast members under different names. The movie depicts the lives and loves of early-20s theater students at that particular moment in history, with their psychodramas, états d’âme, and you name it (and with the chape de plomb of HIV/AIDS hovering over their raging hormones). I did not care for the movie. I did not like the characters or relate to their trials and tribulations. But seeing the critics’ and spectateur ratings on Allociné, I’m in a minority on this.

Incomprehensibly nominated for best film is Pacifiction, directed by auteur Albert Serra and with multi-laureate actor Benoît Magimel in the lead role. Billed as an espionage drama, it is thus described on Allociné: “On the island of Tahiti, in French Polynesia, the High Commissioner of the Republic and representative of the French state, De Roller, is a calculating man with perfect manners. In official receptions as well as in shady establishments, he regularly takes the pulse of a local population from which anger can explode at any moment—and all the more so as a rumor is flying: that a submarine has been sighted, whose presence could announce a resumption of French nuclear tests.” Sounds promising! AWAV’s kind of movie! I hesitated, however, when seeing the sheer number of thumbs-way-down spectateur reviews on Allociné—far lower than the critics’, which were effusive—plus the 2 hour 45 minute run time. But when it was nominated for nine Césars (no less) I decided to bite the bullet, expend a Sunday afternoon, and attend a special screening. Big mistake. I would have done well to have read beforehand this money quote in an otherwise stellar, Uber-cinephile Allociné spectateur review: “this is a cinematic experience as demanding as a film by Apichatpong Weerasethakul, Andrei Tarkovsky, or Bela Tarr. Some people will suffer, as it is most unpleasant to feel trapped in a movie theater watching a movie that one is not liking. But for those who like Weerasethakul, Tarkovsky or Tarr, ‘Pacifiction’ is a rare and profound experience.” Hoo boy! The one film each that I’ve seen by the first two of these highbrow auteurs so bored me to tears that I subsequently ruled out ever again seeing anything that had their respective names on it. This assessment by another Allociné spectateur, who rated the film ‘très mauvais’, captures my sentiment: “The run time can be off-putting, with one’s fears confirmed during the film. Literally nothing happens. 2H45 of nothing, of emptiness, of interstellar boredom (ennui intersidéral). One will only remember this film for it having wasted almost three hours of one’s time. And to be sure to avoid the next one by this director…” Had I not been sitting alone in the furthest back row, where I could scroll through my phone without disturbing anyone, I would have likely left early. N.B. ‘Pacifiction’ was not exactly a box office hit, selling a grand total of 56K tickets (<4% of ‘En corps’).

N.B. The other French film of 2022 I rated ‘excellent’ (4.5 score on Allociné), but which was nominated for nothing, was Gaspar Noé’s Vortex, an absorbing 2½ hour portrait of a day in the life of an octogenarian couple in Paris’ 18th arrondissement who, clinging to their possessions of a lifetime, refuse to quit their apartment and quartier for assisted living, and despite one of them sliding into dementia. It is the most powerful film one will see on the ravages of ageing (and that awaits us all, if we’re not already into it).

BEST DIRECTOR: Cédric Jimenez for Novembre (November).
It was somewhat of a risky undertaking to make an action movie around such a traumatic event as the November 13, 2015, terrorist attacks, only seven years after the fact, that would not upset a lot of people and be both a box office hit and not panned by the critics. Cédric Jimenez, who directed the smash hit ‘BAC Nord’ (discussed in last year’s César post), pulled it all off. The pic’s focus is the police investigation, beginning the moment the news broke of the attacks—which are not shown—and the race against the clock to capture or neutralize the terrorists before they commited another atrocity and/or vanished back to Syria. It’s a riveting, high octane thriller—even though you know what’s going to happen—and with a top-notch ensemble cast led by Jean Dujardin. And it was a box office success to boot, with 2.4M tix sold (outdoing ‘BAC Nord’).

The other nominees are the directors of all the above films except for ‘Les Amandiers’. All are worthy—even Albert Serra of ‘Pacifiction’, for the impressive cinematography of Polynesia.

BEST ACTOR: Jean Dujardin in ‘Novembre’.
Louis Garrel in ‘L’Innocent’ would also be fine (and I’ll bet he gets it). As for Vincent Macaigne in Emmanuel Mouret’s Chronique d’une liaison passagère (Diary of a Fleeting Affair), no way! As the title suggests, the story is a casual affair, purely carnal, of a middle-aged married man (Macaigne) and single mom (Sandrine Kiberlain), that is supposed to be sans lendemain and devoid of sentiments, but begins to last and with sentiments inevitably developing. Yawn. The pic got the thumbs up from critics (including US/UK) and audiences alike, but I’m in the tiny minority of those who didn’t like it. I found the relationship implausible and the banter and general interaction between the two frivolous and uninteresting. The story did not ring true. Also, while the cinquantenaire Sandrine Kiberlain is pas mal, I can’t imagine what woman would want to go out with a schlump like Macaigne (his character in the film at least).

Denis Ménochet is a good actor and I make it a point to see François Ozon’s latest film, whatever it is, even though he’s hit and miss. When he’s “hit” he can be excellent, but his Peter Von Kant—inspired, as one may surmise, by Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s ‘The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant’—is a “miss” IMHO. As for Ménochet’s lead performance, I cannot objectively assess it, as the film both irritated and bored me from almost the opening scene. I couldn’t wait for it to be over. That’s as much as I can say about it.

Benoît Magimel in ‘Pacifiction’: no.

BEST ACTRESS: Laure Calamy in À plein temps (Full Time).
This is the third year in a row that I’ve pegged Laure Calamy for this award. She’s a terrific actress, one of the best—I’ll see her in anything—and does not disappoint in this first-rate film, the subject of which is the daily ordeal of the working world for those in precarious, low paid jobs—and in the case here, of one who has slid way down the occupational/class ladder and is desperately trying, against hope, to climb her way back up. Parenthetically, one comprehends the opposition of so many to Emmanuel Macron’s pension reform, of the idea that they’ll have to spend two additional years in the galère of the contemporary working world.

I am not a fan of Juliette Binoche but she’s good enough, albeit not entirely convincing, in Emmanuel Carrère’s Ouistreham (Between Two Worlds), the cinematic adaptation of the well-known reporter Florence Aubenas’ 2010 best-seller Le Quai de Ouistreham (English translation: The Night Cleaner), in which she recounts her six months of going undercover as a member of the cleaning staff on the Ouistreham-Portsmouth cross-Channel ferry, to experience menial labor and the shitty working conditions of those who perform it, but to also bear witness to their camaraderie and expressions of solidarity with one another.

Economic precariousness and the shitty world of work—for those on the lower rungs of the social ladder at least—is almost a sub-genre in French cinema. As for acting in the genre, more convincing than the inescapably bourgeois Juliette Binoche is Adèle Exarchopoulos in Rien à foutre (Zero Fucks Given; yes, that’s the English title), in which she plays a mid 20s stewardess for a low-cost airline—talk about a grueling, underpaid job, and with having to put up with all sorts of indignities—but she does her job and seeks to enjoy life in her off hours. The film is engaging until the final maybe twenty minutes, when I thought it dragged and seemed to go nowhere, but the smartest American critic of French cinema thought the opposite. Someone is clearly à côté de la plaque here, no doubt yours truly.

Virginie Efira is a great actress and certainly French cinema’s most prolific at the present time, appearing in several movies a year, and the nomination for her role in Revoir Paris (Paris Memories), as a survivor of a terrorist attack in Paris suffering from PTSD, is well-deserved. IMHO she should have, however, been nominated instead for her role in Rebecca Zlotowski’s Les Enfants des autres (Other Peoples Children), one of AWAV’s Top 10 movies of 2022 but which was nominated for not a single César. I loved Virginie in this one.

I’m sure Fanny Ardant acquits herself well in Les Jeunes amants (The Young Lovers), in which she plays a 71-year-old woman who becomes romantically involved with a man 25 years her junior, but I didn’t see it.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR: Roschdy Zem in ‘L’Innocent.’
I have no particular preference in this category, so will go with the actor I like the most, independently of the films in question. Bouli Lanners in ‘La Nuit du 12’ is perfectly okay, as are François Civil and Pio Marmaï in ‘En corps’. Micha Lescot in ‘Les Amandiers’: I can’t picture him, let alone his character in the film.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Lyna Khoudri in ‘Novembre’.
I like her, and it would be nice to see an Algerian win. And yes, she is good as the hijab-wearing “Sonia” character, whose tip led to the police neutralizing the terrorist Abaaoud. Anaïs Demoustier is fine as the rookie cop in ‘Novembre’. Anouk Grinberg and Noémie Merlant in ‘L’Innocent’: sure, why not?

As for Judith Chemla in Le Sixième enfant (The Sixth Child), she is meritorious as the Roma wife pregnant with her sixth child that she and her husband cannot afford, and that, refusing abortion, they are ready to sell, for a tidy sum of cash, to a well-heeled Parisian lawyer couple unable to have children and who are desperate to adopt one, even if it means breaking the law (and being disbarred and going to prison). It’s a slick, impeccably cast film but had me ill at ease, as you just know that it won’t have a happy ending.

MOST PROMISING ACTOR: Aliocha Reinert in Petite Nature (Softie).
Bastien Bouillon, as police detective Yohan in ‘La Nuit du 12’, will probably win but I vote for Reinert, who is both remarkable and unforgettable as the 10-year-old Johnny (11 when the film was shot), who, in this little gem of a film, lives in Forbach (in the Lorraine) with his low-class mother, who works petits boulots, and siblings (likely with different fathers, all absent), is taken under the wing of his 6th grade teacher, and dreams of escaping his dysfunctional family and social condition.

Paul Kircher in Christophe Honoré’s Le Lycéen (Winter Boy) is good enough, I suppose, in this coming-of-age (a popular genre this year), of a high school senior discovering himself and, above all, his sexuality (some of the scenes are explicit). It’s an LGBTQ+ niche film, with necessarily limited appeal outside that niche. I have nothing to say about Stéfan Crepon in ‘Peter von Kant’. I can’t speak to Dimitri Doré in Bruno Reidal, confession d’un meurtrier, as I haven’t seen it.

MOST PROMISING ACTRESS: Mallory Wanecque in Les Pires (The Worst Ones).
Marion Barbeau, as Élise in ‘En corps’, will likely win but I vote for Wanecque, who is memorable as the cheeky15-year-old Lily from a cité in Boulogne-sur-Mer, along with the rest of the amateur cast of children in the film, all lower class problem kids—the “worst” elements in the cité—who, one notes in passing, are all “white,” not the usual suspects from the ghetto.

The other nominees are Nadia Tereszkiewicz, as the double of Valeria Bruni Tadeschi in ‘Les Amandiers’; Rebecca Marder in Une jeune fille qui va bien (A Radiant Girl), a coming-of-age film, directed by Sandrine Kiberlain, of a 19-year-old Jewish girl in Paris during the Occupation; and Guslagie Malanda in Saint Omer, as Laurence Coly, the defendant in the trial.

BEST FIRST FILM: ‘Le Sixième enfant’ (The Sixth Child), by Léopold Legrand & Saint Omer, by Alice Diop ex æquo.
This was a tie, or a coin flip. I initially had mixed feelings about ‘Saint Omer’ after seeing it, but revised my view of the film upwards following a discussion with the Uber-cinephile and always insightful Adam Shatz. Perhaps I’ll post my thoughts on it in an update. In the meantime, here’s a lengthy essay on the film by critic Olivier Barlet in Africultures (by far the best site for reviews of films with an Africa link).

Lise Akoka & Romane Gueret’s ‘Les Pires’, which has won a slew of festival awards (including at Cannes), could well win this one too. Charlotte Le Bon’s Falcon Lake, an early teen coming-of-age film that takes place almost entirely at a lake in Quebec, has its merits, one supposes, but is not at the top of this category. Bruno Reidal, by Vincent Le Port, is apparently quite good but, as mentioned above, I have yet to see it.

BEST DOCUMENTARY: Retour à Reims (Fragments), by Jean-Gabriel Périot.
This is the only one of the five nominees I’ve seen but peu importe, I’d choose it anyway. As the title suggests, it is the cinematic adaptation of (parts of) sociologist-philosopher Didier Eribon’s 2009 book Retour à Reims (English translation: Returning to Reims), which is both sociology and memoir, and one of the most brilliant and insightful—and personal—works of social science one will read on growing up in a working class family (in the 1950s-60s), and how the working class mutated from the 1980s on (in France, but with parallels with the US and elsewhere). The documentary is narrated by Adèle Haenel and with impressive archival footage from the postwar decades.

On films that did not receive their due from the César academy or were shut out altogether: There has been criticism of the short shrift given to Simone, le voyage du siècle (Simone Veil, A Woman of the Century), which received but two nominations, and in minor categories—best costume design & best production design—when it was a well-done biopic of one of France’s most popular and admired personalities, from the 1980s to her death in 2017 (see my R.I.P. post), and was, moreover, a huge box office hit—2.5 million tix, more than any other nominated film—and particularly among young people, including teenagers, with the word being spread, so one learns, on Tik Tok.

The films that I scored 4.0 (très bien) on Allociné that were shut out are: Les Promesses, Arthur Rambo, Un autre monde, Un beau matin, Les Harkis, and Annie Colère.

UPDATE: The list of awards is here. Most of my choices did not win, needless to say.

Jeff Beck, R.I.P.

A blast from my past, circa mid-late ’60s/early ’70s. The Yardbirds were among my favorite groups of that era, with their hit songs Shapes of Things and Heart Full of Soul. Various friends on Facebook, in remembering Jeff Beck, are mentioning in particular the great instrumental Beck’s Bolero. Yes, it is great indeed! C’est tout.

Best (and worst) movies of 2022

Voilà AWAV’s annual list, for the 13th year running (for last year’s, go here). I saw a lot of movies this year—almost all on the wide screen—probably too many. Problem is, three or four movies a week, sometimes more, open here to good reviews and look sufficiently interesting, so even though I can’t see everything I do try—though some were inevitably forgettable and/or not worth my time. And I missed several Hollywood blockbusters, e.g. ‘Top Gun: Maverick’, which I had nothing against seeing but didn’t get around to, and ‘Black Panther: Wakanda Forever’, which did not, in fact, figure on my “to see” list. I did want to see ‘The Woman King’ but it quit the salles before I could get to it. I have yet to see ‘Avatar: The Way of Water’. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. On verra.

TOP 10:
Boy from Heaven (Cairo Conspiracy صبي من الجنة)
Flee (Flugt)
Full Time (À plein temps)
Les Harkis
Other People’s Children (Les Enfants des autres)
Rise (En corps)
R.M.N.
The Beasts (As Bestas)
The Night of the 12th (La Nuit du 12)
Vortex

HONORABLE MENTION:
Harka (حركة)
Holy Spider (Les Nuits de Mashhad عنکبوت مقدس)
Limbo
Red Rocket
The Chef

BEST MOVIE FROM BHUTAN:
Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom (ལུང་ནག་ན)

BEST MOVIE FROM COSTA RICA:
Clara Sola

BEST MOVIE FROM MALTA:
Luzzu

BEST MOVIE FROM KOSOVO:
Hive (Zgjoi)

BEST COMING-OF-AGE MOVIE FROM KOSOVO:
The Hill Where Lionesses Roar (Luaneshat e kodrës)

BEST COMING-OF-AGE MOVIE FROM CROATIA:
Murina

BEST COMING-OF-AGE MOVIE FROM IRAN:
Sun Children (خورشید)

BEST COMING-OF-AGE MOVIE FROM FRANCE SET IN AND AROUND SÈTE:
My Brothers and I (Mes frères et moi)

BEST COMING-OF-AGE MOVIE FROM ITALY SET IN CALABRIA:
A Chiara

BEST COMING-OF-AGE MOVIE SET IN 1980 QUEENS NEW YORK:
Armageddon Time

BEST COMING-OF-AGE MOVIE FROM NORTHERN IRELAND SET IN 1969 BELFAST:
Belfast

BLEAKEST RUSSIAN COMING-OF-AGE MOVIE FROM NORTH OSSETIA:
Unclenching the Fists (Разжимая кулаки)

BEST ANIMATED COMING-OF-AGE MOVIE FROM LATVIA ABOUT GROWING UP IN THE LATE SOVIET ERA:
My Favorite War (Mans mīļākais karš)

BEST MOVIE SET IN 1980s POLAND ABOUT THE TRUE NATURE OF A DICTATORIAL REGIME:
Leave No Traces (Żeby nie było śladów)

BEST MOVIE FROM ROMANIA AFTER ‘R.M.N.’:
Miracle (Miracol)

MOST ONLY SO-SO MOVIE ABOUT THE CONDITION OF WOMEN IN BULGARIA:
Women Do Cry (Жените наистина плачат)

BEST MOVIE FROM UKRAINE:
Pamfir (Памфір)

BEST SLOVAK MOVIE FROM UKRAINE:
107 Mothers (Цензорка)

BEST CZECH MOVIE FROM UKRAINE:
Butterfly Vision (Бачення метелика)

BEST BELGIAN MOVIE SET IN SCOTLAND:
Nobody Has to Know

BEST BELGIAN MOVIE ABOUT THE ISLAMIC STATE IN SYRIA AND HOW IT RECRUITS ITS TERRORISTS:
Rebel

BEST DECIDEDLY SLOW-PACED BUT NONETHELESS ABSORBING MOVIE FROM TURKEY:
Commitment Hasan (Bağlılık Hasan)

BEST MELODRAMA FROM IRAQI KURDISTAN:
Goodnight Soldier (شەوباش پێشمەرگە)

BEST ALBEIT VERBOSE AND NOT-EASY-TO-FOLLOW MOVIE FROM IRAN:
Leila’s Brothers (برادران لیلا)

MOST BITING SATIRE FROM EGYPT ABOUT A PATRIARCHAL MAN WHO TURNS INTO A CHICKEN:
Feathers (ريش)

BEST SOMALI MOVIE FROM DJIBOUTI:
The Gravedigger’s Wife

BEST MOVIE ABOUT WOMEN ON A FIG FARM IN TUNISIA:
Under the Fig Trees (تحت الشجرة)

MOST AUSTERE MOVIE ABOUT WOMEN ON A FARM IN 19TH CENTURY DENMARK:
As In Heaven (Du som er i himlen)

BEST MOVIE FROM ISRAEL ON HOW IT CAN HAPPEN THAT PALESTINIAN CITIZENS OF ISRAEL ALSO FIND THEMSELVES UNDER CONDITIONS OF OCCUPATION:
Let It Be Morning (فليكن صباحا ויהי בוקר)

MOST ONLY OKAY MOVIE ABOUT SEX DRUGS AND MUSIC IN THE YOUNGER GENERATION IN ISRAEL:
All Eyes Off Me (מישהו יאהב מישהו)

BEST ANIMATED CZECH MOVIE ABOUT LIVING AS A WESTERN WIFE IN A FAMILY IN POST-2001 AFGHANISTAN:
My Sunny Maad (Moje slunce Mad)

MOST SOPORIFIC MOVIE FROM LAOS:
Goodbye Mister Wong

BEST MOVIE FROM JAPAN ABOUT THE COURTSHIP MORES OF THE JAPANESE UPPER CLASS:
Aristocrats (あのこは貴族)

STRANGEST MOVIE FROM JAPAN:
Plan 75 (プランななじゅうご)

MOST OVERRATED MOVIE FROM SOUTH KOREA:
Decision to Leave (헤어질 결심)

BEST MOVIE FROM SPAIN’S BASQUE COUNTRY ABOUT REPENTANT TERRORISTS WHO ARE GENUINELY SORRY FOR THEIR TERRORIST ACTS:
Maixabel

BEST MOVIE FROM SPAIN ABOUT A GOOD BOSS WHO TURNS OUT NOT TO BE SUCH A GOOD BOSS WITH JAVIER BARDEM IN THE LEAD ROLE:
The Good Boss (El buen patrón)

BEST MOVIE FROM SPAIN ABOUT THE ATTEMPTED COLLABORATION OF EGOTISTICAL PRIMA DONNAS WITH PENÉLOPE CRUZ AND ANTONIO BANDERAS IN THE LEAD ROLES:
Official Competition (Competencia oficial)

BEST BY-THE-NUMBERS HOLLYWOOD MOVIE CELEBRATING THE DOGGED INVESTIGATIVE REPORTING OF AMERICAN NEWSPAPERS WITH CAREY MULLIGAN AND ZOE KAZAN IN THE LEAD ROLES:
She Said

BEST HOLLYWOOD MOVIE IF ONE ENJOYS MOVIES ABOUT CANNIBALS FEASTING ON THEIR PREY BUT WORST MOVIE IF ONE DOES NOT ENJOY MOVIES ABOUT CANNIBALS FEASTING ON THEIR PREY:
Bones and All

BEST NOT BAD INDIE MOVIE ABOUT WHITE PEOPLE MOVING INTO A HISTORICALLY BLACK NEIGHBORHOOD IN NORTHEAST WASHINGTON AND THE SENTIMENTS THIS SPAWNS:
Residue

BEST BIOPIC ABOUT A GREAT AMERICAN ROCK AND ROLL SINGER:
Elvis

BEST NOT BAD BRITISH HISTORICAL DRAMA ABOUT A DECISIVE MOMENT IN THE SECOND WORLD WAR:
Operation Mincemeat

BEST SOCIAL DRAMA FROM FRANCE WITH JULIETTE BINOCHE IN THE LEAD ROLE:
Between Two Worlds (Ouistreham)

BEST POLITICAL DRAMA FROM FRANCE WITH ISABELLE HUPPERT AND REDA KATEB IN THE LEAD ROLES:
Les Promesses

BEST POLITICAL DRAMA FROM FRANCE WITH LÉA DRUCKER IN THE LEAD ROLE ABOUT A SOON TO BE EX-PRESIDENT OF THE FRENCH REPUBLIC SUDDENLY FACED WITH THE IMMINENT VICTORY OF THE EXTREME RIGHTWING CANDIDATE WHO WILL SUCCEED HER:
Le Monde d’hier

BEST DRAMA FROM FRANCE SET DURING THE GERMAN OCCUPATION WITH DANIEL AUTEUIL AND GILLES LELLOUCHE IN THE LEAD ROLES:
Farewell Mr. Haffmann (Adieu Monsieur Haffmann)

BEST THRILLER FROM FRANCE BASED A TRUE STORY ABOUT A FRENCHMAN IN PUTIN’S RUSSIA WHO FALLS AFOUL OF THE F.S.B. WITH GILLES LELLOUCHE IN THE LEAD ROLE:
Kompromat

BEST ENVIRONMENTAL THRILLER FROM FRANCE BASED ON A TRUE STORY ABOUT CORPORATE MALFEASANCE WITH PIERRE NINEY AND GILLES LELLOUCHE IN THE LEAD ROLES:
Goliath

BEST DRAMA FROM FRANCE ABOUT THE PITILESS WORLD OF GLOBALIZED CORPORATE MANAGEMENT WITH VINCENT LINDON AND SANDRINE KIBERLAIN IN THE LEAD ROLES:
Another World (Un autre monde)

BEST COMEDY-DRAMA FROM FRANCE ABOUT WORKERS IN AN ENTERPRISE IN THE HAUTE-SAVOIE WHO TAKE ON FINANCE CAPITAL AND WIN:
Reprise en main

BEST HIGH OCTANE THRILLER FROM FRANCE ABOUT THE POLICE INVESTIGATION IN THE DAYS FOLLOWING THE WORST TERRORIST ATTACK EVER TO HIT FRANCE WITH JEAN DUJARDIN AND ANAÏS DEMOUSTIER IN THE LEAD ROLES:
November (Novembre)

BEST DRAMA FROM FRANCE WITH VIRGINIE EFIRA AND BENOÎT MAGIMEL IN THE LEAD ROLES ABOUT SURVIVORS OF THE PARIS TERRORIST ATTACKS AND HOW THEY COPED:
Paris Memories (Revoir Paris)

BEST ROMANTIC DRAMA FROM FRANCE WITH LÉA SEYDOUX IN THE LEAD ROLE ABOUT A FORTY-SOMETHING SINGLE MOTHER IN PARIS AND HOW SHE MANAGES AN AGING PARENT ROMANCE WITH A MARRIED MAN AND JUST LIFE IN GENERAL:
One Fine Morning (Un beau matin)

MOST TOUCHING FEEL-GOOD BORDERLINE MELODRAMA FROM FRANCE WITH DANY BOON AND LINE RENAUD IN THE LEAD ROLES ABOUT A WORLD-WEARY CAB DRIVER WHO SPENDS A DAY CRUISING THE STREETS OF PARIS WITH A 92-YEAR-OLD CLIENT AS SHE TAKES A FINAL TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE:
Driving Madeleine (Une belle course)

BEST ALMOST AGONIZING-TO-WATCH DRAMA FROM FRANCE WITH SARA GIRAUDEAU AND BENJAMIN LAVERNHE IN THE LEAD ROLES ABOUT TWO HOT-SHOT PARIS LAWYERS WHO ARE SO DESPERATE TO ADOPT A CHILD THAT THEY BREAK THE LAW IN THE PROCESS:
The Sixth Child (Le Sixième enfant)

MOST AMUSING FRANCO-ALGERIAN COMEDY WITH KAD MERAD IN THE LEAD ROLE ABOUT A NOBEL PRIZE-WINNING FRANCO-ALGERIAN NOVELIST WHO RETURNS TO HIS HOMETOWN IN ALGERIA AND THE AMUSING RECEPTION HE GETS THERE:
Citoyen d’honneur

BEST NOT BAD DRAMA FROM FRANCE INSPIRED BY THE TRUE STORY OF A FRENCHMAN EXECUTED BY THE FRENCH ARMY DURING THE ALGERIAN WAR WITH VINCENT LACOSTE AND VICKY KRIEPS IN THE LEAD ROLES:
My Traitor, My Love (De nos frères blessés)

MOST WILDLY OVERRATED ROMANTIC COMEDY-DRAMA FROM FRANCE WITH SANDRINE KIBERLAIN AND VINCENT MACAIGNE IN THE LEAD ROLES ABOUT A SINGLE MOTHER AND MARRIED MAN WHO HAVE AN AFFAIR THAT MAKES NO SENSE AND DURING WHICH THEY FRIVOLOUSLY TALK ABOUT NOTHING OF INTEREST:
Dairy of a Fleeting Affair (Chronique d’une liaison passagère)

MOST DROLL OFFBEAT ORIGINAL COMEDY FROM FRANCE THAT TELLS THE ACTUAL STORY OF AN EPHEMERAL LONG-FORGOTTEN PRESIDENT OF THE FRENCH REPUBLIC WITH JACQUES GAMBLIN AND ANDRÉ DUSSOLLIER IN THE LEAD ROLES:
The Vanished President (Le Tigre et le Président)

BEST MOST ENTERTAINING PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER FROM FRANCE WITH LAURE CALAMY IN THE LEAD ROLE:
The Origin of Evil (L’Origine du mal)

BEST FEMINIST COMEDY-DRAMA FROM FRANCE WITH LAURE CALAMY IN THE LEAD ROLE:
Angry Annie (Annie colère)

BEST BIOPIC FROM FRANCE ABOUT AN EXCEPTIONAL FRENCHWOMAN OF OUR ERA:
Simone Veil, A Woman of the Century (Simone, le voyage du siècle)

MOST UNPLEASANT WASTE-OF-TIME OF A COMEDY-DRAMA FROM FRANCE WITH PIERRE NINEY AND ISABELLE ADJANI AND THE REST OF AN ENSEMBLE CAST IN THE LEAD ROLES:
Mascarade

BEST MOVIE FROM FRANCE WITH SAMI BOUAJILA AND ROSCHDY ZEM IN THE LEAD ROLES ABOUT A HAPPY SUCCESSFUL CLOSE-KNIT FRANCO-MOROCCAN FAMILY BUT WITH AN ACCIDENT UPENDING THE FAMILY IDYLL:
Our Ties (Les Miens)

BEST COURTROOM DRAMA FROM FRANCE WITH KAYIJE KAGAME AND GUSLAGIE MALANDA IN THE LEAD ROLES:
Saint Omer

BEST NOT PERFECT BIOPIC FROM FRANCE ABOUT A NOTORIOUS POLICE MURDER WITH REDA KATEB AND LYNA KHOUDRI IN THE LEAD ROLES:
Our Brothers (Nos frangins)

WORST MOVIE FROM NETFLIX ABOUT TUMULT IN A BANLIEUE HOUSING PROJECT THAT CAN ONLY COMFORT THE VIEWS OF THE FRENCH EXTREME RIGHT:
Athena

MOST UNDESERVED CANNES FILM FESTIVAL PALME D’OR WINNER THAT WAS NONETHELESS MORE DESERVED THAN LAST YEAR’S PALME D’OR WINNER:
Triangle of Sadness

MOST POWERFUL DOCUMENTARY FROM SYRIA ON THE MARTYRDOM AND SUFFERING OF THE PALESTINIANS IN THE SUBURBS OF DAMASCUS BUT WITH ONE BIG FLAW:
Little Palestine, Diary of a Siege

MOST REMARKABLE DOCUMENTARY FROM RUSSIA OF A PRIVILEGED INDUSTRIAL CITY IN THE URALS WHERE THE WORKERS HAVE A COMFORTABLE STANDARD OF LIVING AND NATURALLY SUPPORT THE SYSTEM:
Kombinat

MOST CROWD-PLEASING DOCUMENTARY FROM GERMANY ABOUT A TURKISH HOUSEWIFE WITH ATTITUDE IN BREMEN WHO TAKES THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT TO COURT AND WINS:
Rabiye Kurnaz vs. George W. Bush

MOST EXCEPTIONAL THOUGH NOT FLAWLESS DOCUMENTARY FROM UKRAINE ON THE LARGEST SINGLE MASSACRE COMMITTED BY NAZI GERMANY AND WHICH WAS HUSHED UP DURING THE SOVIET ERA:
Babi Yar. Context

BEST MOVIE BY LAURENT CANTET:
Arthur Rambo

BEST MOVIE BY JEAN-PIERRE & LUC DARDENNE:
Tori and Lokita

BEST MOVIE BY PANAH PANAHI ABOUT IRANIANS FLEEING OVER THE TURKISH BORDER:
Hit the Road (جاده خاکی)

BEST MOVIE BY JAFAR PANAHI ABOUT IRANIANS FLEEING OVER THE TURKISH BORDER:
No Bears (خرس نیست)

MOST MOVING PAEAN TO ANIMALS BY JERZY SKOLIMOWSKI:
EO

BEST MOVIE BY HIROKAZU KORE-EDA:
Broker (Les Bonnes Étoiles 브로커)

MOST TONGUE-IN-CHEEK COMEDY-HORROR MOVIE BY MICHEL HAZANAVICIUS:
Final Cut (Coupez!)

MOST ENTERTAINING COMEDY CAPER BY LOUIS GARREL:
The Innocent (L’Innocent)

MOST RIDICULOUS LITTLE MOVIE BY WOODY ALLEN CONFIRMING THAT HE REALLY SHOULD RETIRE FROM MAKING MOVIES:
Rifkin’s Festival

MOST OVERRATED MOVIE BY PAUL THOMAS ANDERSON:
Licorice Pizza

MOST FORGETTABLE MOVIE BY GUILLERMO DEL TORO:
Nightmare Alley

MOST PLODDING MOVIE BY DAVID O. RUSSELL:
Amsterdam

MOST ANNOYING AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MOVIE BY VALERIA BRUNI TEDESCHI:
Forever Young (Les Amandiers)

MOST TEDIOUS MOVIE BY FRANÇOIS OZON:
Peter von Kant

MOST INSUFFERABLE MOVIE BY JORDAN PEELE:
Nope

ABSOLUTELY THE WORST MOVIE POSSIBLE BY CLAIRE DENIS:
Both Sides of the Blade (Avec amour et acharnement)

The Immaculate Reception

[update below]

All minimally informed persons, including those with a minimal interest in soccer, know that last Sunday’s France-Argentina game is unanimously considered to have been the greatest final in the history of the World Cup, indeed one of the greatest high-stakes games ever in the history of the sport. In regard to sports superlatives, today so happens to be the 50th anniversary of one of the greatest, and certainly most famous, plays in the history of America’s National Football League, immortalized in memory as The Immaculate Reception. The game was the divisional playoff of the NFL’s American Football Conference (the World Cup equivalent of a quarterfinal), between the Pittsburgh Steelers and the Oakland Raiders. With the Raiders up by one point, 7-6, in the closing seconds of the game and what would be its final play, Steelers’ quarterback Terry Bradshaw threw a desperation pass, which, not caught by the targeted receiver, ricocheted into the arms of fullback Franco Harris, who ran the ball into the end zone for a 60-yard touchdown—and a 13-7 victory for the Steelers. It was an incredible end to the game—watch it on YouTube here—and an exhilarating one if you were for the Steelers. The reaction in Pittsburgh was almost like that in Buenos Aires after the penalty shootout last Sunday. The Steelers thus went on to face the Miami Dolphins in the AFC championship the following Sunday, which they lost (the Dolphins, undefeated that season, were destined to win the Super Bowl that year).

I was reminded of The Immaculate Reception with the announcement of the untimely death of Franco Harris three days ago, on December 20. Harris, who was a rookie at the time of his famous Reception, went on to an illustrious career with the Steelers over the subsequent eleven seasons. He was one of the great running backs of his era and is, at present, the NFL’s 15th all-time leader in rushing yards. He was also a cool, sympathetic guy, so I and many others thought. One thing that made him stand out off the football field was his being mixed race—Black father & Italian mother, met and married in Italy while the father served there during the war—which wasn’t too common in the America of the time (interracial couples are more numerous nowadays but still not nearly what one sees in France). Harris’s racial heritage and stature as local hero led to relative interracial good feelings in Pittsburgh after The Immaculate Reception, with Blacks and Whites being friendly in public with each other (I remember news reports on this at the time), which was decidedly out-of-the-ordinary in working class cities like Pittsburgh. Harris was also a Democratic Party supporter and political progressive (e.g. see here), which was definitely out-of-the-ordinary for football players with known political views or partisan identities, who heavily lean Republican. American football is almost by its very nature a right-wing sport, but that’s a whole other subject.

The main reason I’m writing on this Golden Anniversary of The Immaculate Reception is because I saw it, on television of course. I watched the entire game, from beginning to end, on that cold, overcast December 23, 1972, Saturday afternoon (I was living in Chicago, which is 650 km due west from Pittsburgh, where the game was played). I had become a Steelers fan that year, having a curious identification with Pittsburgh, a (then) polluted industrial city I had never been to, probably because my mother was born in nearby Canonsburg and grew up in mill towns in western Pennsylvania and eastern Ohio, so there was a reflexive affinity there. And when it came to football, I always reflexively supported Rust Belt teams over Sunbelt ones. The Steelers also had a winning season that year for the first time in almost ten, and would become the dominant NFL team of the 1970s. It was a great team indeed, with a colorful cast of excellent players, an awesome defense, and which would win four Super Bowls in the course of the decade.

Today is also the 47th anniversary, give or take five days, of another famous NFL play (and which I also saw, on TV): Roger Staubach’s Hail Mary pass in the closing seconds of the Dallas Cowboys-Minnesota Vikings NFC divisional playoff on December 28, 1975, which gave Dallas the victory (and popularized the expression ‘Hail Mary pass‘ in the process). See it on YouTube here. Amazing play.

UPDATE: On the subject of great games in the history of the NFL, the 55th anniversary of another one is coming up next weekend, the December 31, 1967, ‘Ice Bowl’ in Green Bay, Wisconsin, which I of course saw and wrote an AWAV post on some nine years ago. This was truly one for the ages.