Che: Part One

In the twenty years since he won the Palme D’Or for sex, lies and videotape, Steven Soderbergh has travelled along some unexpected paths from the demented experimentation of Schizopolis and the sterile 1940s homage of The Good German to several helpings of Danny Ocean and his merry men to top up his commercial credibility. It is hard to imagine another American director of his generation with the clout or all-round ability to pull off a two film, five hour portrait of revolutionary icon Ernesto Che Guevara. His measured approach eschews grand, crowd-pleasing gestures or any temptation to adopt the sweep of a David Lean-style epic. Instead, he has created an absorbing, thoughtful marathon in which the focus is firmly on the personalities and the political arguments that forged the revolutionary ideals of the 1950s and 1960s.

Che exhibits a bracing confidence in the intelligence of the audience. It makes no concessions to anyone unfamiliar with the events or period it depicts. The five hour running time (including an intermission) will seem a daunting hill to climb for many. Any notion of releasing the two films separately will only result in severely diminished returns for the second, more leisurely, film as the law of dwindling interest sets in. The very embodiment of a formidable marketing challenge, Che is likely to remain a project that attracts widespread critical respect but only committed specialist audiences.

Part One begins with a jumble of dates and countries and no traditional notion of setting the scene or filling in the back story. Some attempt at a structure is provided by covering Guevara (Benicio Del Toro) during his visit to New York in 1964 where he is viewed as a celebrity revolutionary or a dangerous Communist depending on the political stance of the individual making the call. His speech to the United Nations, television interviews and social appearances (all depicted in black and white) are contrasted with his first voyage to Cuba in 1956 and the success of the Castro-led revolution in 1959.

The second film jumps forward to 1965 when Che leaves Cuba, renounces his Cuban citizenship and attempts to export revolution to Bolivia where he ultimately met his death in 1967.

Thisis very much a film of ideas. There are times when the conversations almost become lectures on the extent of the poverty and deprivation that created the conditions for revolution in Cuba. It grips on an intellectual level but risks seeming dry and academic to a general audience. Soderbergh’s decision to shoot as much of the film as possible in natural light dictates a scale and approach devoid of empty romanticism. Benicio Del Toro’s commanding performance is equally careful to stress Che the man rather than Che the hero. His Che is entirely convincing as an inspirational figure. His actions are selfless, his manner is compassionate, his concerns are always truth, justice and integrity. Even facing death in Bolivia, his last words are: ’ I believe in mankind.’

The lengthy, detailed depiction of the setbacks Che met in Bolivia makes the second film more of an endurance test. Inevitably, the incremental journey towards success in film one is much more enthralling than the slow unraveling of hope in Bolivia, especially when much of the physical and visual detail of the guerrilla-style jungle warfare, doubts and disappointments begin to feel very familiar and repetitive. There is a possibility that some trimming of the second film might address these matters.