ATHENA

"In memory of Idir, justice will be served." - Abdel

Do broken communities breed violent men? In the modern age of BLM and cries for defunding the police, anarchist rhetoric and systematic oppression pierce the forefront of American culture and political consciousness. The topic of police brutality reinforces a polarizing bipartisanship ideology in the arena of social politics, especially in the social media era where people mainly listen to argue instead of listen to understand. Athena, directed by Romain Gavras, simulates a corporeal arena personifying generations of marginalized communities who’ve seen too many of their people at the end of the barrel of a gun. Forcing self political reflection, Athena establishes a world order representative of our own and materializes a display of reckoning when persecuted groups scream enough is enough.

Within the span of a day, the film follows three brothers, Karim, Abdel, and Moktar, in the hours following a viral video showing the death of their younger brother, Idir, possibly at the hands of police. Anger boils over at the Athena estate (an anarchist commune) at the death of Idir as they take matters into their own hands. Barricading the city and arming themselves with roman candles and molotov cocktails, hundreds of young freedom fighters wage war on French police. As technicolor chaos lights the night sky and orders of resistance fill the air, Karim demands justice for his brother and the arrest of the men who killed him. After an explosive start to a film about police brutality, Athena evolves into a much deeper, contemplative criticism of the detached world engrossing us today.

The art of camerawork seldom attributes its own point of view. More often than not, the camera merely captures its subject matter, rather than being a part of it. Gavras opens the film with a meticulously timed 11 minute tracking shot, the effects of which are inconsequential to the relentlessness of inherited injustices felt by the communities highlighted therein. Starting with a grief-riddled Abdel addressing the senseless killing of his younger brother publicly, the camera pans to Karim– clearly on an opposing side– seething with rage, as he lights a molotov cocktail and launches it into the police station. Seamlessly weaving through Atheneans raiding and destroying the police precinct, this uninterrupted shot continues into the stolen ambulance as the anarchists flee with screams of justice. Shifting from intimate close ups to wide shot aerial views, the scene ends on the ground as Karim arrives at the Athena estate and perches on a balcony among his team in defiance.

This opening sequence sets the tone for not only the creative technical propensity with which the film was shot but also the audience’s inexplicable blessing in Karim’s rebellion. Leaning into the topical and timely relevance of police brutality in modern society, the palpable communal anger expounds the ambiguity of the film’s historical context. Gavras relies heavily on emotional and technical storytelling, allowing the audience to fill in the blanks when expositional variables are driven by ethological means. The profound impact of camera artistry and the imbued narrative violence are immediate– such a pleasure for the eyes, but such a dilemma for the soul.

On the surface, Athena carries a simple message– a persecuted community challenges the institution that maltreats its people. However, if you choose to delve deeper into the recesses of its emotional trauma and grayness of right and wrong, you’ll find Gavras planted seeds that question the nature of humanity. Because the organized retribution looks so colorful and enticing (thanks to the continuous tracking shots and cinematography), Gavras sneakily transforms viewer’s question of support into understood acknowledgement. This alignment of beliefs is by design as plums of outrage billow across the screen and an empathetic electricity connects the viewers to the film’s subjects. But as the night progresses and the Athena estate begins to burn, Gavras’ true display comes to light.

Anger in its purest form strips man of his human elements and reverts him down to basic animalistic instincts. It shifts the paradigm of right and wrong– justice becomes revenge, destruction becomes normalized, and killing becomes warranted. At what point does our humanity end and our primitive rage begin? Karim, in all his ideological extremism, dolls out justice in absolutes–the death threat of a cop for the names of his brother’s killers; an attempt to dismantle the city’s police force for the oppression of his people. True humanity is the acknowledgment of this innate wrath while not succumbing to it. As the adrenaline-fueled camerawork wanes and questions of doubt seep into Atheneans, repentance surfaces as the dazzling fireworks fade and pervasive gloom blankets the estate. The anarchists in their decades of fighting racial inequality and systemic suppression finally envelope the epitome of what their oppressors painted them as. Karim symbolizes both savior and destructor, the definition and antithesis of bravery and benevolence. It is this display of unadulterated violence that divides mankind, a never ending cycle of rage and death.

The implications of the film as a whole creates an uncomfortably subversive dichotomy. Analyzing ideological duality, Athena presents a meditative template for political divisiveness. Gavras’ microcosm of contemporary society destroys any political commentary in the last thirty seconds of the film, ensuring the real enemy is the person we allow ourselves to become. It would be a disservice to view the film through an apologetic lens, and to remain angry at the ending would take away the genius of the overall message. The surrogacy of Athena’s police brutality narrative, though relevant, exposes the divisive nature of modern society’s nomenclature. Cancel culture, political correctness, gender pronouns, and white privilege... the world has been divided into two groups: those who believe what I do, and those who don't. The dissension created in the world since social media’s immediacy and screen ubiquity has established political and social isolation, allowing people of one belief to bask in their anger for people with conflicting viewpoints without having to do anything about it. Athena represents the beginning of the conversation Gavras implores the world to have with itself, potentially one that can happen before the city burns to the ground.

Cinema holds many purposes: to invoke emotion, help you forget, and sometimes, change your mind. Athena was designed for social commentary, spearheaded by a man who knew the world couldn’t change until they acknowledged where the rotting started. Having composed an orgasmic, triumphant cinematographic style, Gavras presents a dystopian world mirroring the constructs which divide our own. To reach the end of his run time and only feel disappointment in his censorship of true political criticism is acceptable and warranted. But to reach the end and feel a stir of unease–to admire the cause but question its judgment–true cinema has done its job. The understanding of your role in the metaphorical rebellion you just witnessed, and knowing the uncomfortable, uphill battle of detaching yourself from your safe space and like-minded peers unveils the shackles that have smothered us for generations.