“Most of Algeria and the Middle East are trapped in history” while the U.S. is “a product of history.” 

That is the explanation Ali, an Algerian engineering student studying at a Los Angeles university, gives to his history class study partner. This line represents his struggle as both a Muslim and new American immigrant— between growing up and living in a dominant Muslim environment and living in a country where he struggles to be understood.

“The Algerian”,  a political thriller, follows Ali, a naïve and humble 20-something-year-old, as he struggles to assimilate and understand the new culture while keeping his focus: to carry out his mission.

The film opens in an Algerian town with Ali promising to fulfill his duties to a group of men “united under the band of shihada” and who are waiting for the right opportunity to become more powerful than the U.S. He quickly begins his training as a fighter.

Throughout the film, the terrorist-to-be seems ill-fitted to his role. He is polite, sincere and has an easy time making friends in the new country.

In fact, Ali saves an African American woman named Lana after a man hits her and pushes her to the ground outside of a New York club. He also fights off a few others. Ali and Lana begin their relationship with a coffee date and quickly become close friends. At one point, she questions his occupation because of his fighting skills.

As Ali becomes settled, he makes more friends, like the American woman who becomes his history study partner and subsequently becomes romantically interested in him. Later in the film, he is ecstatic to meet a Syrian immigrant who said he misses his country but made a sacrifice to give his daughters a better life.

The young man’s challenging but pleasant stay in New York takes a sharp turn when the “father”, his master in training, reminds him of his purpose in the U.S. through pay phone conversations. He warns him not to get too entrenched in his social life and not to visit any mosques.

Focused on completing his mission, Ali is seen exercising at a park when he meets an American man whom he later learns is a U.S. Marine. Ali has never met one before, but his approach was polite and he teaches him a few exercising tips anyway.

The marine sparks the film’s major turning point.

Soon after, the student meets with a group of foreigners on a New York bridge to discuss their attack— to detonate a nuclear warhead in Los Angeles.

The film’s most critical moments follow, with Ali starting to question his mission.

He fails to follow the “father’s” orders and meets an African American imam named Sulaiman who’d implored him several times to visit a local mosque. Ali takes comfort in telling the imam some of his struggles, while the imam gives him a lesson in being honest and staying true to himself.

He also learns, the morning after an unexpected romantic night with Lana, that she lost her mother, who worked in the north tower of the World Trade Center, in the September 11 attacks.

Ali’s encounters with the marine, the imam and Lana leaves him with a better understanding of and empathy towards the struggles of Americans. His mission no longer seems legitimate and he hurries to find a way to call it off.

However, his newly found compassion doesn’t last long. He becomes infuriated when Lana reveals that she was pregnant and worked as an escort and when his study partner tries to sleep with him during a study session. His frustration intensifies when he and the marine meet again and quarrel about the Iraq invasion. 

“What gives America the right?” yells the Algerian.

“We will kill millions,” the “sister”, an African Muslim assassin, who gives Ali his instructions to carry out the attack, tells him as they meet in a hotel room the night before the bombing.

But once again, Ali becomes apprehensive about carrying out an attack that would demolish an entire city. The reluctant terrorist-to-be sees that his fight is the same as the American marine’s fight— to seek justice and protect its citizens.

He bursts into Lana’s apartment, gives her enough cash and begs her to leave the state that night.

In the scene before the attack, Ali visits the sick imam, who was diagnosed with cancer, in a hospital. Sulaiman recalls a dream he had of Ali reciting the call to prayer so beautiful that angels came down from heaven.

The film’s climax comes when Ali and his team of terrorists climb into a van with the bomb and drive to the denotation location. As they drive off, every team member is given an explosive vest to use in case the mission fails. Ali questions the need for one, saying that it wasn’t part of the plan, but still wears it.

Ali recalls pleasant memories of his friends and his conversations with the marine and the imam.

In a startling move, he detonates the explosive vest, killing himself and everyone in the van before it reaches its intended destination, thus sparing millions of innocents.

The film’s cinematography is sharp and the racially diverse actors and actresses master their roles. What’s more, “The Algerian’s” message is noble. It speaks to those not familiar with the struggles of the war-torn parts of the Middle East and the causes that drive some people to plot terror attacks.

It also highlights the struggles of immigrants coping with foreign cultures and espouses an understanding between peoples of enemy nations.

However, both Ben Yousef, who plays Ali and is one of the directors, and screenwriter and director Giovanni Zelko enter dangerous territory by choosing to end the film with Ali blowing himself and the rest of the crew up. The gruesome move conveys that the only way out of violence is with violence.

Ali didn’t have to become a martyr for either nation’s causes, but I can’t think of another last-minute way out of killing millions of innocent civilians.