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Jacques Audiard has a sly way of lowering my guard only to come back for the kill.
As cliché as it is to call this sorta film visceral, there’s no better description of the intense horror that Tahar Rahim’s Malik finds himself in from the film’s first frames. A Prophet is more grand in scope than Audiard’s other crime epic, The Beat That My Heart Skipped, yet there’s less of an illusion of free will. If Roman Duris was torn between loyalty and desire in the earlier film, Rahim, also burdened by obligation - exists on scorched earth from the start of A Prophet, as if paying for a consequences of the previous film.
I have to say, the inciting act of violence is an instant all timer scene; a loss of innocence and a thematic launch pad for the reverent two hours that follow.
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