In this fish out of water comedy, Kassovitz asks who is localised, and which bodies belong in urban spaces, particularly as this tender trio are hounded by authority at every turn. They speak over each other so much that they begin to resemble The Three Stooges, while a trip to Paris centre in search of money owed feels more akin to a collection of sketches from Mr Hulot. La Haine spends 24 hours in the trio’s company. Kassovitz introduces us to the firecracker Vinz (a star-making turn for Vincent Cassell), and Hubert (Hubert Koundé), who’s trying to make good in the community while mourning the arson of his boxing gym the night before. As Saïd meets his friends, it’s clear that the flames of the ensuing riot are yet to die out completely – particularly once the rumour about a cop's gun being lost somewhere in the estate turns out to be true.
Turns out his friend Abdel was hospitalised by police the night before.
Out of these blurred video images, Kassovitz cuts to the face of Saïd (Saïd Taghmaoui), whose innocent eyes look overwhelmed by the mass of gendarme as he walks around his banlieue. As Bob Marley and the Wailers’ “Burnin’ and Lootin’” grooves over news clips of French protest and sparring with cops, the opening credits of Matthieu Kassovitz’s La Haine, which landed on an unsuspecting croisette like a bolt of lightning at Cannes ‘95 and now returns to the big screen for its 25th anniversary, locate viewers into rife conflict a Paris that’s already burning.