Forty years after his assassination and millions of T-shirts later, Ernesto Che Guevara has become little more than a vacant symbol. "Che" -- Steven Soderbergh's epic four-hour-plus masterpiece -- attempts to put the man back into the myth and to give some context to the icon.
Rather than an emotive biopic in the vein of "The Motorcycle Diaries," "Che" is an analytical war movie. Mixing art and history is a dangerous business, especially in the case of such a controversial figure. "Che" inevitably glosses over some of Guevara's documented brutality, without being revisionist, in favor of highlighting qualities that made him an icon.
Other than some nifty roles by Matt Damon, Franka Potente, Catalina Sandino Moreno and Lou Diamond Phillips, "Che" belongs to director Steven Soderbergh and lead actor Benicio Del Toro.
Crafted in two distinct parts, "Che" gives an engrossing account of the successful revolution in Cuba and a grueling record of the misguided efforts in Bolivia. Part One, originally titled "The Argentine," is a meditation on Guevara from two pivotal points in history -- the young guerrilla at the heart of the Cuban revolution, and the proletariat celebrity during his 1964 visit to the United Nations. The dual time frames are intercut, equally contrasting the lush green jungles with the cold newsreel and the gritty rebel with the polished diplomat.
If Part One is the glorified story of Guevara's skills, both as a soldier and politico, then Part Two, "Guerrilla," is the unremitting story of doom. Focusing entirely on Guevara's failed attempt at a revolution in Bolivia, Part Two is a volatile tinderbox of palpable tension. With each mounting failure and problem, the film becomes more and more claustrophobic. The trapped feeling mimics that of the rebels as the CIA-backed Bolivian army ruthlessly tracks them down. We know how this ends. The downward spiral, of the movement and the man, is unmistakable.
Both parts offer an examination of Guevara's character through his actions. Although these actions may be selective, they are by no means definitive. Thoughtfully played by Del Toro, Guevara is as unsentimental about helping the sick as he is assassinating defectors. The film allows us to draw conclusions on whether he is callous or simply focused. His chronic struggle with asthma, painfully depicted in some scenes, reminds us of his mortality.
Despite the cerebral (and artful) glorification, the entire film has an unmatched feel of authenticity. Del Toro's understated performance embodies everything we have ever seen of Che Guevara -- his posture, his expressions and his physical appearance.
Comparisons between the two parts are unavoidable, but they are interdependent in their reflection on Guevara. The guerrilla didn't exist without the celebrity, and his errors didn't exist without his tenacity. ("Che" will be screened for the first week as one film, and will be shown as separate films thereafter.)
