The Screengrab : che guevara

Cannes Rundown, Day 9: Shoot, coward. You're only going to kill a man.

Paul Clark — Fri, 23 May 2008 04:11:00 GMT

Steven Soderbergh’s mammoth two-part epic Che may not be the most universally loved film in competition this year, but it’s certainly become the most talked-about so far. Here’s a small smattering of reactions to the film, which stars Benicio Del Toro.

Glenn Kenny- “for better or worse… in terms of pop iconography, nothing says "overthrowing the system" better than the iconic image of Che. Good thing then, as far as my opinion is concerned, that Soderbergh doesn't have a rabble-rousing bone in his body. Che benefits greatly from certain Soderberghian qualities that don't always serve his other films well, e.g., detachment, formalism, and intellectual curiosity.”

Variety’s Todd McCarthy- ““Che” is too big a roll of the dice to pass off as an experiment, as it’s got to meet high standards both commercially and artistically. The demanding running time also forces comparison to such rare works as “Lawrence of Arabia,” “Reds” and other biohistorical epics. Unfortunately, “Che” doesn’t feel epic -- just long.”

Peter Bradshaw in The Guardian- “The Cannes film festival now has a serious contender for the Palme d'or. Steven Soderbergh's four-and-a-half hour epic Che, about the revolutionary Ernesto "Che" Guevara, was virile, muscular film-making, with an effortlessly charismatic performance by Benicio del Toro in the lead role. Perhaps it will even come to be seen as this director's flawed masterpiece: enthralling but structurally fractured - the second half is much clearer and more sure-footed than the first - and at times frustratingly reticent, unwilling to attempt any insight into Che's interior world. We see only Che the public man, the legendary comandante, defiant to the last.”

Believe it or not, there were actually other films at Cannes along with Che. We begin with Atom Egoyan’s Adoration. Screen Daily’s Howard Feinstein- “Following the failed effort to cross over into conventional, commercially viable film-making with Where The Truth Lies (2005), Canadian auteur Egoyan returns to his signature style with Adoration… Unfortunately, the stories here are thin, unnecessarily complicated and glibly cryptic; some sections are difficult to follow, even annoying in their self-consciousness.”

Also in competition, Philippe Garrel’s Frontier of Dawn. Here’s Karina Longworth of SpoutBlog- “There are shots in this film’s second half that are scarier than anything I’ve seen in a horror film in recent years––without the aid of any effect more special than a basic optical print––and simultaneously, incredibly moving in their invocation of a love that won’t die. Or, at the very least, refuses to abide by traditional boundaries of love and death.”

AO Scott on the out-of-competition film Delta- ““Delta,” as much as any so-so Hollywood romantic comedy, seems content to live inside the bubble of its limited ambitions. It is hard to imagine an audience for this film except in places like Cannes. That is not necessarily because the outside public is incurious or unsophisticated, but rather because “Delta” makes no particular effort to reach beyond the international coterie of critics and programmers who see it out of duty and devotion.”

On Johnny Mad Dog, here’s Jonathan Romney of Screen Daily- “Sauvaire gives us some of the most terrifying and feral militia forces ever seen on film. The young soldiers rarely speak beneath a furious yell, terrifying their victims and barking out slogans and morale-boosting chants apparently culled from Vietnam movies. There's a certain Lord Of The Flies horror in the suggestion that these are still children at play in the most murderous way, their battle garb suggestive of a nightmarish carnival.”

Finally, since many of you seem concerned with the whereabouts of Jennifer Chambers Lynch, here’s Time’s Richard Corliss on her new film Surveillance- “it's an authentic, systematically annoying weirdie about the investigation of a roadside homicide. Five were brutally killed by a couple of maniacs in leatherface masks. Now the three shaken survivors are being questioned in a police station by two outside agents (Bill Pullman and Julia Ormond) who are skeptical of the variations in the stories they hear. Think Rashomon meets The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in Twin Peaks, and give lots of leeway for the gooniest improv overacting, and you may get on the warped wavelength of this semi-comic parable of social anarchy.”

Cannes Rundown, Day 8: Headless Women and Aging Footballers

Paul Clark — Thu, 22 May 2008 02:47:00 GMT

As we wait for reviews for Steven Soderbergh’s mammoth two-part epic Che to filter in, let’s take a look at the reaction to today’s other competition entry, Lucretia Martel’s La Mujer Sin Cabeza. The film was handicapped by some as a possible Palme d’Or contender before the fest began, but reviews today were fairly mixed.

Here’s the Hollywood Reporter’s Peter Brunette: “If Martel's narrative and character exposition are skimpy, her cinematic technique can be breathtaking. She knows how to evoke a barely-registered undercurrent of existential dread through repetitive, barely discernible noises or off-beat, insistent music on her soundtrack, in the manner of Russian master Sokurov. Children loudly cavort in the background of scenes in a way that puts us edge without our really understanding why... Now, if only Martel would become a little more generous with story details, our pleasure would be complete.”

However, Glenn Kenny is much more willing to give Martel another shot: “while Mujer is a far quieter film than Martel's sardonic 2001 feature debut La Cienega, not to mention it's followup, 2004's The Holy Girl. Mujer doesn't lack for stuff—but the register of the film's nuances is so narrow that unless you're paying proper attention, the image will disappear before your eyes. A fancy way of saying that I need to see this story of the discreet guilt-trip of one particular bourgeoisie again.”

Playing out of competition is the documentary/profile Maradona by Kusturica, which is pretty much what it sounds like. The Guardian’s Peter Bradshaw weighs in: “Kusturica deserves credit for revealing Maradona to be more articulate and thoughtful than he usually appears, but what a strange, blustering, macho film this is. Kusturica contrives to get himself into almost every shot, and all-too-obviously thinks he is a testosterone legend to match his subject. He repeatedly shows clips from his own movies - allegedly because they mirror Maradona's tough home life. It is pure penis-envy cinema.”

Finally, some thoughts on The Bastards, Amat Escalante’s Un Certain Regard entry, expressed by Variety’s Todd McCarthy: “From the bold opening credits, the simplicity of his conceptions, the stripped-down refinement of his widescreen framing and the rich sound mix, it's clear Escalante possess a strong talent. What he does with it is another matter… The worst cliches about Mexicans are furthered by the guys front and center here: Jesus looks like a prison-hardened hombre who'd rather stare you down than talk to you, and the resentful Fausto serves up repeated slurs against gringos. When Jesus pulls his compact shotgun out of his backpack, the negative portrait is complete.”

Tribeca Film Festival Review: "Chevolution"

Phil Nugent — Sun, 27 Apr 2008 14:00:00 GMT

Trisha Zitt and Luis Lopez's documentary Chevolution may be the closest thing you'll ever get to see to an episode of Behind the Music or E! True Hollywood Story about an image. The movie stars the face of Ernesto "Che" Guevara, as it was captured in a photograph taken in 1960 that was mass reproduced in poster form on its way to turning into an iconic fashion and advertising image. (One of Guevara's most sympathetic biographers, Jon Lee Anderson, appears in the film sitting at a table with a coffee mug adorned with Che's kisser.) The most fascinating information in the movie is about the man who got this avalanche rolling, Alberto Diaz, popularly known as Korda. Korda had been a high-flying fashion photographer before developing a political conscience during Castro's war against the Batista dictatorship, during which he became a photojournalist vowing to use his skills to serve the revolution. (He wound up serving as Castro's personal photographer.) But he retained the eye and the instincts of a fashion photographer, and that's what made his news photos continue to stand out. They were certainly in evidence in the photo of Che, which was taken when Guevara showed up at the docks after an explosion aboard a Belgian cargo ship delivering a load of munitions. One of Korda's old colleagues says that he doesn't believe that he realized that he'd caught anything special, because he only took two or three shots when he had Guevara in his line of sight, and if he'd thought he had the makings of an important photo, he would have snapped ten or twelve. Maybe so, but Korda must have noticed at some point that he'd gotten a portrait of the camera-shy Guevara looking especially intense and fiery-eyed. Instinctively, he proceeded to crop the other figures out of the shot, leaving something that looks very much like a movie star's head shot.

Korda was unable to sell the picture to the Cuban newspapers in 1960, but years later, it fell into the hands of Giangiacomo Feltrinelli, an Italian who had recognized the potential of easily reproducible, easily disseminated graphic posters as a political medium and who was not above profiting from this insight. Korda was above it; because of his devotion to the ideals of the socialist revolution, he declined to copyright the image or even make a public show of taking credit for it as it was being widely proliferated around the world. Shortly before he died in 2001, Korda did begin to go after companies that exploited Che's image by associating it with products he deemed inappropriate to the point of being degrading, such as cigarettes and booze, an ongoing battle that is now overseen by his daughter. Among the things they regarded as tarnishing to Che's memory is apparently leftist sludge rock, because they also went after Rage Against the Machine for decorating their drum kit with Che's face. The movie includes a wistful Tom Morello recalling how he and the guys used to think of Che as a fifth member of the band until a squad of lawyers showed up to announce that they were there to audition for the role of Yoko Ono.

Chevolution would be a stronger documentary if it included a meatier picture of who Che himself was and what he did and stood for. Most of the people who speak about him in the movie's first half do so in a tone that's respectful bordering on worshipful. That includes Gael Garcia Bernal and Antonio Banderos, both of who have played Che in movies--I guess Omar Sharif had prior commitments--and who speak of him, not unintelligently, as a fellow celebrity. In the movie's final third, which shows how thoroughly the Che image has entered the advertising culture, we do get to hear from a few young campus-conservative types, one of whom rants bitterly about the shallow ignorance of the radical chic and expostulates that if you want to live in a doctrinaire police state that tells you what to think and what you can say and how to live your life, then you should definitely wear Che's face on your T-shirt. (At the screening I attended, one guy in the audience chose this moment to applaud and hollar, "Yeah!" Ah, New York.) One way or another, the movie does demonstrate that the Che image is now so cut off from actual history as to mean whatever the person who wears it thinks it ought to mean, which is one reason it's had a much longer shelf life than Che himself did.