Thursday, February 19, 2009

RELENTLESS AMBITION

One man’s revolutionary is another man’s terrorist. Ernesto “Che” Guevara, one of the most polarizing figures of the 20th century, has supporters who regard him as an anti-imperialist hero but also critics who consider him a ruthless murderer. Worst of all, his legacy has been trivialized by the clueless youngsters who adorn his face on countless posters and t-shirts. For good or bad, there has always been an endless fascination with this larger than life character. In Che, filmmaker Steven Soderbergh strives to tell the story of Guevara through two of his revolutionary campaigns – his victory in Cuba constitutes the first half of the film (known as The Argentine) and his defeat in Bolivia is the basis of the second half (known as Guerilla).
“…I am fascinated by the technical challenges that go along with implementing any large-scale political idea. I wanted to detail the mental and physical demands these two campaigns required…” said Steven Soderbergh in Che’s press notes. The film, especially the second half, focuses on Guevara’s struggles in the harsh conditions of jungles. Rather than adding to Guevara’s folklore, the mirroring pieces act as an examination of his success and failure. The key phrase in the earlier quote is “technical challenges”— revealing not only Soderbergh’s motive behind the making of Che, but also a connection between the director and the guerilla fighter.

Steven Soderbergh was only twenty-six years old when he marked his arrival at the center stage of cinema by winning the Palm D’or at Cannes for sex, lies and videotape in 1989, the youngest-ever director to receive the prestigious prize. He spearheaded the 1990s American independent film movement alongside the likes of fellow directors such as the Coen Brothers, Jim Jarmusch and Quentin Tarantino. Often serving as his own cinematographer and editor, Soderbergh is also known for his vast knowledge of filmmaking and film history, as evident in his informative and often entertaining DVD commentaries. Listening to him arguing with screenwriter Lem Dobbs on the DVD of The Limey will diffuse any assumption that commentaries are boring. The prodigious director’s approach to filmmaking is as bold as Guevara’s approach to guerilla warfare. Gray’s Anatomy and Schizopolis are playful exercises that prove that early success did not tame him into conforming to the Hollywood system. Traffic proved to be Soderbergh’s very own Cuban Revolution, which garnered Best Director and Best Film awards at the Oscars. Much like Guevara, Soderbergh’s commitment to his cause continues to march on. Solaris, a psychological science fiction film, and The Good German, a noir film with 1940s aesthetics free from the stifling production code censorship of that era, both failed commercially, but one has to be impressed by his creative determination. In more than one interview (including Film Comment and Filmmaker Magazine), Soderbergh has asserted how he is amazed by Guevara’s guts to start his Bolivian campaign after what he had gone through in Congo. The director does not need to look further to understand Guevara. He has his own fair share of spectacularly failed experiments, and his will to go through with this ambitious project is just as amazing as his technical mastery.

The total running time of Che is a little over four hours long— epic in length— yet calling the film an epic would be misleading because this one big movie is also two separate films that happen to be indispensable companion pieces. The two films, shot back to back with a relatively modest budget, are far from the highly dramatic visual spectacles like Saving Private Ryan and Lawrence of Arabia. Che Guevara and his compañeros were guerilla fighters, not full-fledged armies, in the jungles of Cuba and Bolivia, not in the open space of a beach landing. The Battle of Santa Clara in the first part is the only battle outside the jungle, and for lack of a better term, this half has a more traditional Hollywood look because of its more structural camera placement than the second half, which contains a lot more handheld camera shots. The first half is also framed by Lisa Howard’s (Julia Ormond) interview with Guevara in 1964, shot in black-and-white. Their conversation acts almost like a commentary to Guevara’s reminiscences of the Cuban Revolution.

Close-ups on Benicio del Toro’s Che Guevara are rare, and the camera, operated by Soderbergh himself under the pseudonym Peter Andrews, is often at an observatory distance. Soderbergh undeniably makes a conscious effort to avoid the usual biopic clichés and refuses to go the easy route of simply glorifying Guevara. Benicio del Toro’s solemn portrayal of Guevara subdues the temptation of personifying an equivocal legend very much distorted by public opinion. His introspective Guevara is at his most expressive during his confrontation with different delegates while speaking at the UN in New York City. While the second part of the film is mostly focused on his failed ambitions, the first part is filled with a slew of colorful supporting characters including Raul Castro (Rodrigo Santoro), Guevara’s wife Aleida March (Catalina Sandino Moreno) and Camilo Cienfuegos (Santiago Cabrera). Demian Bichir’s convincing depiction of Fidel Castro is worthy of a spin-off.

When the project first started, Che was only conceived as one film about Guevara’s fight in Bolivia. Soon enough, Soderbergh realized Che’s motives in Bolivia could not be fully understood without his experiences in Cuba. Guevara could easily have had a comfortable life after Cuba doing anything but what he did— putting himself into the punishing conditions of one jungle after another, one armed struggle after another.Guevara’s obsession ultimately cost him his life, yet this dogged determination also made him who he was. Unlike Guevara, Soderbergh has an escape plan—his highly bankable films like Ocean’s 11 give him a unique status in Hollywood. The fiercely creative filmmaker, who is never complacent with his Hollywood success, applies a similar kind of obsessive ethic in his work. Though Steven Soderbergh will never have to put his life on the line for his obsession, he is compelled to explore the life of a man who would.

Che opens at the Angelika Film Center on January 16.

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