Film Review
The most striking thing about the Algerian War (1954-1962) is the
reluctance of the French nation to talk about it, or even to accept
that it took place. Heavy handed government censorship at the
time of the war severely restricted reports of the Algerian conflict on
television and prevented filmmakers from broaching the subject, with
the result that most of the population was ignorant of what was taking
place and indifferent on the subject. It was not until 1999,
almost forty years after hostilities ended in Algeria that the French
state finally acknowledged that it had been a war and not, as had
previously been insisted upon, just a peace-keeping operation. To
commemorate the thirtieth anniversary of the end of the war, Bertrand
Tavernier and Patrick Rotman made this landmark documentary so that an
important part of French history, and a shameful one at that, would not
be totally forgotten or re-invented to favour the military and the
political elite.
La Guerre sans nom takes its
inspiration from Marcel Ophüls's acclaimed documentary
Le Chagrin et la pitié
(1969), which shed considerable light on France's humiliating period of
occupation during the Second World War. All of the contributors
(thirty or so) are French veterans of the Algerian War from the town of
Grenoble, the location of one of the fiercest anti-war riots during the
conflict. All were conscripts or reservists who were profoundly affected by the
war, and most are visibly talking about the war for the first time
since their return to civilian life. Their feelings about the war
cover the entire spectrum of views - some claim that it had a
beneficial effect on their lives and were proud to serve under the
French flag for a just cause; others are clearly scarred for life and
are ashamed to have participated in such an ill-judged and hopeless
colonialist adventure. To their credit, Tavernier and Rotman
avoid making a political point (other than to drive home the futility
and injustice of war), but instead merely record the precious memories
of their interviewees so that the Algerian War can at last have a voice
as well as a name.
At four hours in length (Tavernier and Rotman recorded fifty hours of
interviews),
La Guerre sans nom
would at first appear to be a challenge. Yet, it is a
film that grabs the attention right from the start and once you are
hooked, you are hooked right until the end. It is not just the
subject matter that makes this such a compelling film, it is also the
candour shown by the participants, their willingness to talk openly and
sincerely about the most traumatic period of their lives, that holds
the spectator spellbound. And some of what we see and hear is
genuinely moving. Time and again, Rotman is obliged to stop the
recording when his interviewees falter and come close to breaking down
in tears. It is apparent that the psychological scars are still
there, that some of the memories are just too difficult to bring
back. Facing the past and accepting what has happened is just too
painful, even after thirty years. These are, after all, men who,
as young conscripts, had to live with the fear of a brutal death by
bomb or bullet and who saw many of their comrades killed or mutiliated
in battle.
The film intersperses interviews with photographs taken by the
contributors during their time in Algeria. A deeply personal
account of the war, it reminds us of the horrors of war, but also
conveys a sense of the camaraderie and the almost unbearable ennui, the
long periods of waiting between terrifying bursts of
activity. On the question of torture, some are adamant that
they saw no sign of this being practiced on the French side, whilst
others give fulsome accounts of torture being used against the Algerian
population on a regular basis, and some are still deeply traumatised by
what they witnessed. One conscientious objector gives a harrowing
description of how he was ill-treated by the military, whilst others
recall the mutinous outrage felt when officers gave orders for
ill-considered manoeuvres that resulted in large numbers of
casualties. There are coy allusions to BMCs (Bordels Militaire de
Campagne), which catered for the soldiers' carnal needs when returning
from a military engagement, and horrifically graphic accounts of
killings and mutilations practiced by the FLN.
The most moving part of the film comes towards its end, when the
contributors express their anguish when France declared its ceasefire
and recount their subsequent painful readjustment to civilian
life. The futility of the eight years of conflict, in which three
million young Frenchmen (mostly conscripts in their early twenties)
risked their lives and almost thirty thousand died, resonates in the
testimonies of at least half of the interviewees. Either
physically maimed for life or suffering severe psychological problems,
many found it hard to resume their domestic lives and find work.
Some even contemplated suicide. There was little support from the
state, partly because the state was adamant that the combatants had not
served in a war and therefore did not merit the same level of support
as veterans of previous wars. The Algerian War would cast a
long shadow over the lives of all who participated in it, and it is
right that we should at last hear their story. A generation that
was so badly used by its political leaders, casually sacrificed in a
hopeless attempt to hold back the tides of time, deserves to be
heard. If today's politicians can heed their words and gain a
greater appreciation of the human cost of war, their ordeal will not
have been in vain, the folly that was the Algerian War will have taught
us something.
© James Travers 2012
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Next Bertrand Tavernier film:
La Fille de d'Artagnan (1994)