Yves Montand, following roles in Costa-Gavras’s previous two films Z (1969) and The Confession (1970), both of which were also based on real-life political events, plays Philip Michael Santore, the film’s stand-in for Mitrione (the film’s country is never officially named, but there are numerous references that make it clear it is taking place in Uruguay). Santore is kidnapped by the Tupamaros, along with two others (an American and a Brazilian diplomat), who demand that all political prisoners be released in exchange for his life. Montand, a popular French actor who first rose to prominence as a romantic crooner in the 1940s, makes Santore an immediately sympathetic character, which complicates our reactions to the various revelations about his activities.

Much of the film takes place in a Tupamaros hideout in a small, windowless room whose walls are covered with newspaper pages where Santore is interrogated by Hugo (Jacques Weber), the guerillas’ young, idealistic leader who always keeps his face masked in Santore’s presence. The interrogation is actually less about obtaining information as it is about forcing Santore to confess to his activities. (Narratively, it provides a convenient forum for the opposing sides of the film’s ideological battle to make their case, which makes some of these scenes a bit dry in their obvious speechifying.) Every question that Hugo asks Santore about his role in the U.S. government and dealing with the Uruguayan police is met with a lie that Hugo is then prepared to counter with incontrovertible evidence: pictures of Santore working with people he claims not to have met, publications from conferences he claims not to have attended, etc.

Both Hugo and Santore remain calm and respectful toward each other, which emphasizes both characters’ humanity; even though they are diametrically opposed politically, they are both fully realized human beings. However, Costa-Gavras does not waffle in terms of conveying what he sees to be the truth. As Oliver Stone would do two decades later in JFK (1991), he visually makes clear his views on what is lie and what is truth by depicting in flashbacks Santore engaging in the activities he denies. There is still some uncertainty as to how we should view Santore—is he a monster or simply a soldier of sorts doing his duty?—but there is no question as to what he has done (even though the actual historical record is still cloudy and fraught with conflicting testimony). The depiction of the Tupamaros is equally conflicted, as they clearly do not want to engage in violence even as they use it as a threat to achieve their goals, which suggests they are as naïve as they are idealistic. Ironically, it is Santore who recognizes the impossibility of their position: “If you kill me, it will be an act of cruelty and powerlessness,” he says. “If you don’t kill me, it will be a sign of weakness.”

Interestingly, Costa-Gavras and screenwriter Franco Solinas (The Battle of Algiers, Burn!) begin the film with Santore’s body being discovered by police in the backseat of an abandoned car, thus eliminating from the film any sense of suspense as to whether he will live or die. For knowledgeable audience at the time, this early revelation likely had a minimal effect on their experience given that the film’s source material was a recent international news story. However, for others not familiar with the real-life events on which the film is based, it has the effect of eliminating suspense from the narrative, which forces us to focus not on the “if,” but on the “how” and “why.”

Like Costa-Gavras’s previous films, State of Siege was controversial, primarily because it rankled those on both sides of the political divide: Leftists saw it as too forgiving toward the American government and its foreign policy in Latin America while those on the right didn’t appreciate how the film humanized what was essentially a terrorist organization and sought to explain how and why a cold-blooded assassination could be justified. The American Film Institute, which had originally intended to screen the film as part of its festival celebrating the opening of a new theater at the Kennedy Center, abruptly withdrew the film. Meanwhile, the State Department officially denounced it as unjust and a disservice to Mitrione’s memory while most countries in Latin America banned it. But, of course, that is precisely what makes the film politically worthwhile: Rather than playing into the prejudices and biases of any one political stripe, State of Siege boldly dares to look at both sides, finding both fault and virtue. The film is perhaps most powerful as a depiction of the circularity of political power struggles, as the film begins with the death of Santore and ends with the arrival of his replacement.

Copyright ©2015 James Kendrick

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