When Buzz flies his drone, he sees everything the police try to hide. The drone democratizes surveillance. It takes the power of the panopticon—Foucault’s nightmare of the state watching you—and turns it back on the state. In the final, terrifying sequence, the drone is grounded. The only perspective left is Stéphane’s human eye, staring down a child with a bottle of fire. Without the witness, there is only violence. The ending of Les Misérables (2019) is notorious. After the police are trapped, Issa reappears. He has retrieved a Molotov cocktail. He walks slowly toward Stéphane, who has his gun drawn. Stéphane screams: “Ne tire pas!” (“Don’t shoot!”) but it is unclear if he is talking to Issa or to himself.
This is not a redemption. It is a condemnation. Hugo believed in the possibility of mercy (Valjean sparing Javert). Ly shows that mercy is a luxury of the powerful. The film ends in an eternal loop: a brutalized child facing a scared cop. The gunshot could be Issa dying, or Stéphane dying, or both. It doesn’t matter. The system has already claimed its victims. Les Misérables was released just months before the murder of George Floyd and the subsequent global protests. But more presciently, it was set in Montfermeil, one of the epicenters of the 2005 French riots—the worst civil unrest France had seen since May 1968. Ly’s film is a warning that went unheeded. los miserables 2019
The inciting incident is small. A runaway boy named Issa (Issa Perica) steals a lion cub from a traveling circus run by a Romani trainer, Zorro. When the circus owner threatens the entire neighborhood to get his animal back, the police hunt Issa down. The chase ends in a rooftop confrontation. Chris, in a moment of panicked brutality, fires a rubber bullet point-blank into Issa’s face. The boy collapses. The cops realize they have just maimed a child. When Buzz flies his drone, he sees everything
By [Your Name]