Movie Review: Che - Part One, The Argentine - Page 2

What many will expect from the films is a conventional biopic format, i.e. portray certain key moments of the protagonist's life, show how these affected his worldview, and with a nice linear narrative (preferably romantic) beneath everything so no one gets lost or bored. What is surprising is just how little of that The Argentine gives us; instead we have a meticulously researched and crafted reconstruction of the minutiae of Che's role in Fidel Castro's assault on Cuba, intercut with scenes portraying his famous visit to the United Nations in New York in 1964, but with little or no information about his background: it can practically follow on from The Motorcycle Diaries with no overlap.

Though we see much of the public Che - speechifying, organising his men, running, jumping, and shooting - there is precious little of the real Ernesto shown onscreen; close-ups are eschewed in favour of long and medium shots, the camera seemingly unwilling to invade his personal space for any length of time. What little we learn about the man is then confined to what we can glean from his public persona, which presents the audience with as oblique a portrait as Alberto Korda's famous Guerrillero Heroico.

In avoiding the usual biopic genre expectations, what emerges is something very different and unexpected. The public Che, with his pronouncements on politics and imperialism, becomes a personification of the revolution itself: falteringly human, contradictory in his very nature, but unerringly sure of the righteousness of his convictions. The film's timeline begins in the confines of a pleasant dinner party, and we are invited to think about why this young man would leave this comfort to spend years in the jungle fighting for an ideology. What we do see along the way is the plight of the ordinary people, toiling both under a military dictatorship and gross social inequality, and can begin to understand better his motivations. In one comical but poignant scene, when attending to villagers' ailments, one lady confesses to Dr. Guevara that nothing is wrong with her, she was there simply as she had never seen a doctor before.

In terms of casting, it is hard to find fault. Benicio Del Toro's stocky frame and seriousness of expression match that of the Che being portrayed, and his performance never seems overly mannered, even his continued labouring under his asthmatic wheezes. Squinting, I might not be able to tell apart Demián Bichir from the young Fidel Castro, who in his relatively minor role captures the dictator's charismatic demeanour with suitable charm. Only Catalina Sandino Moreno seems misused, thanklessly having to be content mostly with jogging around with a rifle, though as the future Señora Guevara she is bound to figure more prominently in the film's second part. On a more technical note, the film marks the most high profile use of the Red One digital camera, and the cinematographic results are no less than spectacular — this is certainly the future of filmmaking.

Article Author: Bags

Bags is a writer based in Bristol, UK. He likes the idea of being called a 'cultural historian', though 'boring film and music geek' is probably closer to the mark. Ouch.

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