FILM REVIEW: 'A PROPHET'

Above Prejudicial Ideas of Arthouse Cinema, This Flick does More to Accommodate All

By: James Stavrinides

March 1, 2010

A Prophet’s plot yields nothing particularly groundbreaking in its close adherence to crime/prison genre tropes — it’s a rags-to-riches (“riches” in a relative sense) story of a young protagonist who uses only his wits to usurp a sinister gang leader and get the girl (it’s also really long, which is almost a trope in itself). The film’s merits lie elsewhere. Director Jacques Audiard’s work knowingly utilizes genre conventions in order to create a film about cultural identity. Strange visions and ghostly visits accent this prison drama in an effortless display of directorial talent.

We’re introduced to our hero, Malek (Tahar Rahim), upon the start of a six-year sentence in a French prison. He’s 19 and not much else: faithless, past-less, and mostly illiterate. He’s also a mix of Corsican and Arabic, but his religious apathy lands him in the Corsican cell block. Their leader, Luciani, forces Malek to exploit his heritage in order to kill another Muslim inmate. Committing the act is given a terrifying necessity, as Malek tries all means afforded to him to escape this task, but is unsuccessful. It’s a dirty kill — one involving the promise of a blow-job and the use of an orally concealed razor blade. Naturally, things don’t go as planned, and a messy kill gets messier. At this point, we’re only days into Malek’s sentence and about 25 minutes into the film’s three-hour run-time. This rough start acts as a kind of initiation for both Malek and the viewer.

This deed carries weight beyond the physical action. Malek effectively kills off the Arabic side of his heritage, ostracizing himself from the Muslim faction while becoming a privileged slave to the Corsican side. Reyeb (who he murdered) remains in the film as a ghost, however, serving as constant reminder of the symbolic murder. Before he dies, he tells Malek that his time in prison should be a learning experience, and indeed it is. This is his education.

Malek learns to read and write in prison classes. Here he comes to meet Ryad, a fellow Arab, who becomes his most trusted ally and partner in crime. He’s granted temporary leave from prison where he’s forced to do Luciani’s dirty-work on the outside but also makes some deals of his own, and the film grows into something far less dreadful than the opening assassination would suggest. There’s a snappy montage or two, one of which even featuring a Nas track.

For the most part, Malek must be ruthless. He willingly involves himself in kidnapping and drug trafficking in order to secure a place for himself, but we are occasionally reminded of his lost innocence. This gives way to the film’s most tender moments — when his youth surfaces through his entirely necessary gruff persona. We catch a hint of glee as his hair is blown back from a rolled-down car window on his first day of temporary leave from prison; notice his utter fascination at the wonder of flight and airline hospitality as he travels by plane for the first time. The fact that, in both instances, he is on his way to committing a crime intensify these moments rather than spoil them. Neither is dwelled on, and they’re all the better for it. The success of these scenes is owed to newcomer Tahar Rahim, who is able to deftly go between youthful innocence and cynical inmate convincingly and at a moment’s notice. He’s still a kid, after all. Don’t let the mustache fool you.

The film’s conclusion at first seemed slightly problematic in that Malek eventually “chooses” one side of his heritage over the other. The Muslim inmates show him respect and brotherhood when the Corsicans do not. But while it’s ultimately a cultural triumph, Audiard never loses sight of Malek’s resolute individualism. Ultimately, his rise to the top can be mostly attributed to his own cunning and determination rather than simply being on the right side of a race war.

As a rule, I try to avoid coercing my readers into a binary decision to go see a film or not. I must break this rule, if only slightly, for this film. I feel that A Prophet is not a film solely for cineastes. Challenging though it may be, the film calls upon movie history that we all know and recognize. I believe that those who try and avoid “arty” or independent films may find A Prophet to be unusually palatable.