When Buzz flies his drone, he sees everything the police try to hide. The drone democratizes surveillance. It takes the power of the panopticon—Foucault’s nightmare of the state watching you—and turns it back on the state. In the final, terrifying sequence, the drone is grounded. The only perspective left is Stéphane’s human eye, staring down a child with a bottle of fire. Without the witness, there is only violence. The ending of Les Misérables (2019) is notorious. After the police are trapped, Issa reappears. He has retrieved a Molotov cocktail. He walks slowly toward Stéphane, who has his gun drawn. Stéphane screams: “Ne tire pas!” (“Don’t shoot!”) but it is unclear if he is talking to Issa or to himself.
Cut to black. A single gunshot.
Where Hugo’s novel ends with Valjean dying in peace, forgiven by Cosette, Ly’s film offers no catharsis. It offers only the concrete, the drone, and the flame. In 2019, Ladj Ly took the most beloved title in French literature and turned it into an indictment. Les Misérables are still here. They are still angry. And they are still waiting for justice that never comes. los miserables 2019