Director: Steven Soderbergh
Producer: Laura Bickford
Screenplay: Peter Buchman
Cast: Benicio Del Toro, Julia Ormond, Oscar Isaac, Rodrigo Santoro, Demian Bichir, Ramon Fernandez, Yul Vazquez, Jsu Garcia, Santiago Cabrera, Marisé Alvarez, Elvira Mínguez, Unax Ugalde, Miguel Ángel Suárez, Alfredo De Quesada, Roberto Urbina, Io Bottoms
So?
Ambitious and never one to be pigeon-holed, Soderbergh's latest film(s) finds the indie-schooled, mainstream dabbling, digital connoisseur, art-house toe-dipper in fine, if yet, less than scintillating form. Che: Part One; originally a full epic piece, shown at Cannes in it's entirety, lasting a colossal four hours plus, now 'Miramaxed' up in to two digestible parts, is Soderbergh's take on the bio-pic chronicling the feats of the Argentine born doctor turned revolutionary guerrilla, Ernesto 'Che' Guevara, who became one of the most recognised, and replicated, people on the planet, his face adorning t-shirts, bedroom wall posters, key chains, you name it, there's he is forever tattooed, burned into the very fabric, on the world collective brain.
In Benito Del Toro, we have a renowned actor of weight and gravitas, a fitting bill for a figure as large and as intimidating as 'Che'; hero to millions, murderer to as many, cult iconoclast, mythical being; bringer of a new hope. Del Toro, like Gael Garcia Bernal before him; playing the younger Che in Walter Salles' 'The Motorcycle Diaries (2004), would be forgiven for being overwhelmed at the thought of playing such a figure, yet Del Toro needn't have worried. Soderbergh's Che isn't interested in the man as much as it is the history, the minutiae of soldiering, the moments in-between the facts; the camera follows Che as he treks through jungles, New York City and Santa Clara in faux-documentary style, keeping the camera distant and looming, as if we're witnessing history unfold. This is not an exercise in method acting, Che is an ordinary man who took an extraordinary path, nothing more.
Soderburgh has neatly divided the film in two segments, darting back and forth in time, from the jungles of Cuba in the mid 50's, at the origins of the guerrilla movement, to Che addressing the UN in New York in 1964, with the latter helping to explain the events of the former through an interview with a journalist. The decision to shoot the events of the 50's in colour and 60's in black and white is equally as effective; Cuba radiates and sparkles, the jungle is alive with deep greens and browns, Santa Clara is a spectre of colour and light, whilst New York is crisp, shot with a free hold camera, stylised, helping puncture the political air of hypocrisy and bureaucracy; one brilliant scene witnesses Che meeting Senator McCarthy at a swanky reception, politely thanking the senator for the Bay of Pigs as it helped bring the people together as one.
It's to Soderbergh's credit that Che: Part One is far removed from the conventional bio-pic, deciding to, once again, take his own path rather than down the familiar road of the warts and all, piecemeal tragi-drama; Che: Part One is so far removed from the constraints of the formulaic bio-pic that it shouldn't even be mentioned in the same sentence. Soderburgh is pre-occupied by the method rather than by the man, Che becomes a by-product of his own film, rather we witness how the man is part of the mechanism, how Che the myth becomes integral to the movement and how Che the man becomes a leading figure in the revolution.
We're never allowed 'into' the mind of Che, he's not a man to believe, or for that matter disbelieve, in, instead we're kept at a distant, watching, as it were, the events unfold, peeking over the fence. It's this stance that's ultimately problematic, with no one to root for, no cause or narrative to get behind, Che: Part One can quickly become frustrating and alienating. Del Toro's Che is a studious, serious and thoughtful figure; his regular problems with asthma highlighting Soderbergh's point that this is was ordinary man driven to these events, rather than portraying him as a super-human, dignified and effective in his portrayal but it's the limitation of the structure of the film that we never get any deeper than the surface; he still remains that steely eyed face on those tee-shirts by the films end.
By keeping us at a distance as spectator rather than getting us emotionally involved with the characters, of whom we know very little, we're forced to make our own way through the film, not really knowing if we should be caring, rallying or fending for anyone. Those constant distant shots, Che forever trapped in the master shot never in close up, disengage the viewer and consequently those beautifully captured action scenes; the battle of Santa Clara in particular, feel flat and, possibly, deliberately so, all of which adds to an increasingly frustrating spectacle
However, there is so much to admire here; the depth of information about the revolution, the film maker's determination, stunning cinematography and Soderburgh's absolute, resolute, stubbornness to pander and his anti-audience stance. It takes a certain arrogance and belief to make a film like this, purposely taking your audience somewhere new, even if the results are as patchy, it should still be applauded. Despite my problems with Che: Part One, I look forward to the concluding part, mostly in hope that it will clear up the agonising and frustrating estrangement I felt with the first chapter.
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