La Haine (1995)

A cow strolls through the housing project in the middle of the night, and only Vinz seems to notice. Not every odd moment in La Haine earns its place. The trip into Paris in the second half wanders, and a gallery party feels like a sketch from a lighter film. None of that dulls what it gets right. Vincent Cassel plays Vinz as a kid rehearsing a tough-guy act in the bathroom mirror, and it’s funny until it isn’t. Hubert Koundé is the quiet center, a boxer who can see exactly where this is heading. Saïd Taghmaoui fills every silence so the other two don’t fight. A scene in a police station, where two of the friends are treated with open cruelty, is hard to watch, and it’s meant to be. The stark black and white turns one ordinary day into a countdown. It holds a 96% on Rotten Tomatoes. A 9.1 because it stays angry, honest and human the whole way through. $3,358 says the final cut to black stays with you well into tomorrow.

What works: Cassel, Koundé and Taghmaoui feel like real friends, and the black and white photography turns one ordinary day into a slow, tightening countdown.

What doesn’t: The Paris detour in the second half drifts, and the women around the three friends barely get a line of dialogue.

Who it’s for: Older teens and grown-ups who want a serious, gripping film about anger, friendship and police violence.