Zero

Jean-Luc Herbulot’s Zero begins with a countdown. There’s an intrinsic linking of the idea of an explosive device and an explosive social movement; an linking of action and reaction which we might follow back to the Big Bang but which, it is implied, might also be triggered intentionally. We will return, at intervals, to the initial narration, and hear the same voice instructing characters. Its owner is referred to by other simply as ‘the man on the phone’. Listening to him, you might be minded of thousands of others who speak on the internet in what is essentially the same voice, insisting the they’ve got it all figured out, persuading themselves that power acquired through manipulation or force is indicative of genius, as if no-one ever thought of it before. From that perspective, this character is pretty dull, but by way of the context in which he places him, Herbulot invites viewers to reflect on the way that power is understood and interpreted.

The story focuses on two men, #1 (Hus Miller) and #2 (Cam McHarg). #1 wakes up on a bus in downtown Dakar, confused because the last thing he can remember is getting into a taxi and asking the driver to take him to his hotel. When he realises that he has a bomb strapped to his chest, the bus quickly empties. Picking up a phone given to him by a young woman, he hears the voice, receives his instructions. He is to be given a series of missions. if he carries them out, following instructions and keeping to a strict schedule, the voice promises him that he won’t explode.

We meet #2 mid-mission, after he has already gone through an experience like this. They are, it is suggested, representative of two faces of the US. #1 is wealthy and used to being able to buy whatever he wants. #2 is strong, ex-military, used to being able to take what he wants by force. In due course they come together and try to figure out a means of escape from their predicament, but in the meantime, what is asked of them gets more and more extreme, with lives being lost. The local news labels them terrorists.

Herbulot is a seasoned action director and good at managing chaos, which is essential to depicting scenes of violence taking place in busy public places. He takes viewers on a tour of the Senegalese capital, from the back alleys to the beaches, as the two frightened men run around trying to do their unseen master’s bidding. The mechanisms behind it are a bit far fetched – the man on the phone may pretend that his actions are simple, but the number of kidnaps, pay-offs and set-ups he has had to coordinate beforehand, all whilst keeping his identity secret, stretch the bounds of credulity. If you don’t worry too much about that, though, you can enjoy a great ride.

Within this framework, Herbulot presents not only the sights of the city but the perspectives of its people. He invites white Western viewers to imagine themselves as outsiders, to reflect on how easy people in that position are to frame, to think about how it feels when the colour of one’s skin leads people to assume that one is a terrorist. With the voice on the phone also sounding American, he highlights the way that countries like Senegal are often used as playgrounds for proxy wars, and reminds us that the deaths of people living there matters just as it matters elsewhere, with the same effect on the general public as they try to go about their daily business.

The degree to which the bomb-strapped men have been sheltered from these perspectives allows for some interesting encounters and creates an opportunity for character development even in a situation where they have little time to think. Over time, we also get some backstory on #1 and learn why he came to Dakar, which adds a bit of complexity and strengthens his emotional arc.

Well shot and well paced, Zero has a lot to offer in spite of its twee moments. Herbulot handles tension well and delivers a lively take on the powerlessness and responsibility of individuals in a chaotic world.