Detroit is not a film for the faint-hearted

The first thing that has to be said about Detroit is that it’s an important film; however that doesn’t necessarily make it a great film. It is a film of several great moments but, overall, for me it is unbalanced and, despite its best intentions, structurally unsound.

Director Kathryn Bigelow is used to working on screen in war zones for films such as Zero Dark Thirty (2012) and The Hurt Locker (2008). She is also fascinated with the dynamics of power in those films and others such as Blue Steel (1990), Strange Days (1995) and the under-rated K-19 (2002). In Detroit she explores both themes with varying degrees of success.

The film is set in the midst of the Detroit riots of 1967, neatly contextualised in a strange but very helpful pre-credits animation. This time Bigelow’s war zone is in the streets of her own country but her skill as a film maker makes it every bit as threatening as anything in the Middle East.

The first third of the film – and for me the most effective part – sets the scene superbly. There is an air of constant menace, an undercurrent of threat, and Bigelow’s gracefully composed frames shot in Barry Ackroyd’s naturalistic style capture the mood of the city and introduces us to the main participants. The battle lines are delineated here between the black population and the beleaguered police force; but there are tensions that will subvert the usual rules of engagement.

The action shifts in the second act to the Algiers Motel, the scene of a notorious and still unexplained shooting. Racist policeman Krauss (Will Poulter, top left) leads a riot squad into the motel after reports of a sniper on the premises. The Algiers is a sort of Switzerland in this conflict but Krauss, who we have already seen is short-tempered and trigger-happy, is determined to get the truth from this motley crew of residents.

They are lined up and systematically tortured, abused, and in some cases murdered as the situation threatens to spin out of control completely. Various law enforcement authorities come and go, washing their hands of the scenario, leaving things in the control of the increasingly desperate Krauss and his slow-witted and easily-dominated partners. The tension in this sequence is incredible and the impact is shattering but for me it was simply too much for the film to bear.

The film becomes overly strident in this mid-section. Characters and actors – John Boyega and Anthony Mackie (top right) in particular – are underused and the scene plays out like a moral battering ram. The problem for me is that this simply overwhelms the narrative, because we don’t know what happened and the participants are still alive there are gaps, presumably for fear of lawsuits. This reliance on what can be proved leaves the film without any nuance.

The final section is the court case against Krauss – a composite character incidentally – and the others. Again we don’t know what happens, for example, in their interrogation scenes so this section plays out like a shriek of liberal rage which fuels our sense of outrage but does little else.

Although a number of books have been written about the riots, Bigelow’s frequent collaborator Mark Boal did his own research. The result is a script that feels bitty and a narrative where the lack of information leaves structural holes. There are unusual directorial decisions too. Mackie as a returning Vietnam veteran seems curiously passive while John Boyega’s function seems to be that of a noble mute witness. Both characters are crying out for a little more agency in the narrative.

For all its faults however Detroit remains a powerful and affecting film and it considers vital and important questions about race and power and privilege that are depressingly relevant, and still demand answers, fifty years on.