Detroit
Director: Kathryn Bigelow
Talent: John Boyega, Will Poulter, Algee Smith, John Krasinski
Released: August 28th
Hot on the heels of the somewhat overpraised Dunkirk, comes another film about real-life entrapment, both historical and terrifying. If you thought the former was immersive, wait until you see what must surely be Bigelow’s best film. The engrossment is not just down to technical wizardry. This film excels on every front: acting, direction, characterisation etc. But you won’t notice any one aspect as you’ll be too busy tearing up your armrest. Detroit doesn’t grip you so much as grab you by the jugular before slamming your face off the interrogation table. The collective exhalation at the film’s close spoke for itself.
Set during Detroit’s 1967 12th Street riot, Detroit does a seamless job of evoking the zeitgeist, transitioning nimbly from the macrocosmic – we see broiling tensions on the streets as a result of a raid on an unlicensed club, leading to degenerate looting as well as more genuine insurrection – to the microcosmic – the focus eventually settles on the siege of the Algiers Hotel, the crucible that brings all the main characters’ stories together.
The soul of the film comes from the black characters. Gone is the sterile aloofness of Zero Dark Thirty: these are living, breathing characters who you care for long before their ordeal – when they’re not bracing themselves for a Motown performance in front of a packed auditorium, they’re steeling themselves before chatting up some white girls.
Everyone impresses, but special mention must be given to Algee Smith’s heartbreaking performance as the lead singer whose simple desire to sing keeps getting thwarted by the unrest. His story is an example of the hate that’s inculcated by hate; its payoff is all the more affecting for how it’s not just his life so much as his passion that’s on the line. John Boyega also deserves notice for his ruefully conflicted performance as a peacemaker, denounced as an Uncle Tom by peers.
As far as the cops go, it might be argued their characters are more sketchily drawn, but their lack of roundedness is in keeping with their knee-jerk violence. The banality of their evil convinces. Our own Jack Reynor brings interesting hues to a cop who’s basically a stooge. But it is Will Poulter who gives the powerhouse performance here, managing to find dimensions in a sociopath that aren’t written into the character. A shoot-first-ask-questions-later kind of cop, he looks at times like he might even believe in his cause as a blunt instrument of the law. He’s blind to the anguish he causes, planting a knife on an unarmed man he’s just shot in the back. But while he doesn’t stop to notice the humanity of the man he’s just gunned down in cold blood, Bigelow does, lingering on the fallen man’s agonised face – perhaps keen not to overlook the pain caused by institutional violence after her previous film drew ire for supposedly taking a pro-torture stance.
No amount of praise can quite get at this experience. The truly essential major release of the summer.
Words: Rory Kiberd
Illustrations by Sarah Moloney
