Che: Part Two

I came to watch Guerrilla, part two of Steven Soderbergh's biopic of Che Guevara, without having seen the preceding film and without more than a cursory knowledge of Che's life. At the same time I was rather apprehensive that this would be both a heavy-going history lesson and an unrepentant love-letter to the iconic revolutionary. As it turns out, this film far exceeded my expectations.

Guerrilla works remarkably well as a standalone film. The story of Che's failed attempt to lead a revolution in Bolivia, then under military rule, is a compelling tragedy. The initial impetus brought by Che's arrival incognito to lead the guerrilla war is lost as misfortune follows misfortune. The odds stack up against the revolutionaries. US backing for the Bolivian army, hostile conditions in the rainforest, suspicious locals and Che's failing health are just some of the difficulties which beset the nascent rebellion.

Soderbergh's portrayal of Che is largely uncritical, but this film is no hagiography. The style is refreshingly undramatic, with a subtle and effective soundtrack by Alberto Iglesias adding quiet drama to many scenes. Che is undoubtedly the centre of the film but there are very few close-ups of his face and we are encouraged to see the people fighting alongside him and sometimes against him too. Where Soderbergh wishes to demonstrate Che's virtues we see it in small episodes such as the loyal acolyte who upbraids two fellow guerrillas when they question Che's leadership, and emphasises the sacrifice that he has made in leaving behind Cuba to fight again for revolution.

The direction throughout is superb. Part two feels tightly edited despite its narrow focus and is able to communicate a great deal through images without the need for a narrator to spell things out for the audience. At the start of the film we see a few short clips of lavish parties in post-revolutionary Cuba, immediately furnishing us with ideas as to why Che would sacrifice his old life to fight again in another country. Later on, the portrayal of guerrillas marching through the unending rainforests stands out as a strikingly beautiful scene and helps to create a feeling of the enormity of the task before this tiny band of revolutionaries.

If there is a problem with the film it is the distance between the viewer and Che, which, though it does allow us to appreciate the context of the insurgency and the people around him, makes it hard for us to understand him better as a person. True, Benicio Del Toro is utterly convincing in the lead role – so much so that it is difficult to remember that you are watching an actor and not the man himself. However, watching Guerrilla as a standalone film means that we are given precious little insight into what is shaping Che's thoughts, words and actions. It is to be hoped that this is more to the fore in the first part of Soderbergh's biopic (I cannot comment on that yet), and certainly the strength of part two is making me look forward eagerly to seeing the prequel.

Part Two picks up... not where the last film left off. As part of the quasi-conventionality of Steven Soderbergh's epic 4+ hour event, Che's two stories are told as classic "Rise" and "Fall" scenarios. In Part Two, Che Guevara, leaving his post as a bureaucrat in Cuba and after a failed attempt in the Congo (only in passing mentioned in the film), goes down to Bolivia to try and start up another through-the-jungle style revolution. Things don't go quite as well planned, at all, probably because of Che's then notorious stature as a Communist and revolutionary, and in part because of America's involvement on the side of the Bolivian Government, and, of course, that Castro wasn't really around as a back-up for Che.

As it goes, the second part of Che is sadder, but in some ways wiser than the first part. Which makes sense, as Guevara has to endure low morale from his men, betrayals from those around him, constant mistakes by grunts and nearby peasants, and by ultimately the enclosing, larger military force. But what's sadder still is that Guevara, no matter what, won't give in. One may see this as an incredible strength or a fatal flaw- maybe both- but it's also clear how one starts to see Che, if not totally more fully rounded, then as something of a more sympathetic character. True, he did kill, and executed, and felt justified all the way. And yet it starts to work on the viewer in the sense of a primal level of pity; the sequence where Guevara's health worsens without medicine, leading up to the shocking stabbing of a horse, marks as one of the most memorable and satisfying of any film this year.

Again, Soderbergh's command of narrative is strong, if, on occasion, slightly sluggish (understandable due to the big running time), and one or two scenes just feel totally odd (Matt Damon?), but these are minor liabilities. Going this time for the straight color camera approach, this is almost like a pure militia-style war picture, told with a great deal of care for the men in the group, as well as Guevara as the Lord-over this group, and how things dwindle down the final scene. And as always, Del-Toro is at the top of his game, in every scene, every beat knowing this guy so well- for better and for worse- that he comes about as close to embodiment as possible. Overall, the two parts of Che make up an impressive package: history as drama in compelling style, good for an audience even if they don't know Che or, better, if they don't think highly of him. It's that special. 8.5/10

Possibly the most brilliant thing about Che: Part Two, as we begin to integrate it with Part One in our minds, is that there is no clarification of why Che chose to confidentially abscond from Cuba after the revolution, no allusion to his experience in the Congo, no clarification of why he chose Bolivia as his subsequent setting for a coup d'etat, no allusion to the political decisions he made as a young man motorcycling across South America, which Walter Salles has given prominent familiarity. Extraordinary focus is given to Che meeting the volunteers who accompany his guerrilla factions. Yet hardly any endeavor is made to single them out as individuals, to establish involved relationships. He is reasonably unreasonable. Che drives an unbreakable doctrine to leave no wounded man behind. But there is no feeling that he is deeply directly concerned with his men. It is the concept.

In Part 1, in Cuba, the rebels are welcomed by the people of the villages, given food and cover, supported in what grows to be a victorious revolution. Here, in Bolivia, not much understanding is apparent. Villagers expose him. They protect government troops, not his own. When he expounds on the onesidedness of the government medical system, his audience appears uninterested. You cannot lead a people into revolution if they do not want to comply. Soderbergh shows U.S. military advisers working with the Bolivians, but doesn't fault the United States for Che's collapse. Che seems to have just misfigured his fight and the place where he wanted to have it.

In showcasing both wars, Soderbergh doesn't build his battle scenes as actions with specific results. Che's men attack and are attacked. They exchange fire with faraway assailants. There is generally a cut to the group in the aftershock of combat, its death toll not paused for. This is not a war movie. It is about one man's reasonably unreasonable drive to endure. There is no elaborate cinematography. Soderbergh looks firmly at Che's inflexible dedication. There are remarkable sporadic visceral shots, but being few they are all the more powerful, such as Che's POV shot during his final beats. There is an abundance of the terrain, where these men live for weeks at a time, and the all-consuming effect is of languor, Guevara himself having malaria part of the time.

Benicio Del Toro, one of the film's producers, gives a champion's performance, not least because it's modest. He isn't portrayed as the cutting edge like most epic heroes. In Cuba, he arises in conquest, in Bolivia, he falls to the reverse, and occasionally is actually difficult to distinguish behind a tangle of beard and hair. Del Toro illustrates not so much an identity as an attitude. You may think the film is too long. I think there's a genuine cause for its breadth. Guevara's affairs in Cuba and particularly Bolivia was not a sequence of episodes and sketches, but an undertaking of staying power that might virtually be called insane. In the end, Che as a whole or in parts is a commercially ballsy movie, one where its director begins by understanding the limits innate in cinematic biography and working progressively within those means.

A lot of the problem many people have with this movie is that they seem to think that the story should have been more entertaining (ignoring it is based on a true story) or ranting against a film that glorifies Che (which it really doesn't). This film is very close to Jon Anderson's definitive bio on Che and gets the story right. Soderburgh does an excellent job of setting the mood for the unraveling debacle that was Che's Bolivian adventure. You really get the impression of the total timidity and bewilderment of the Bolvian peasant to Che's revolutionary ideas or of the difficulties that his men faced with hunger and the terrain. Sorry to bore the attention challenged movie fan out there but that was how it happened. So don't go into this movie expecting a Rambo shoot em up, its a true story!

In terms of a (loose) description, part one of this two part series covers Ernesto Che Guevara's travels, alongside Fidel Castro, from Mexico to Cuba and his rise, organizing and leading his fighters, finally culminating in Castro's seizure of power in Cuba from Fulgencio Batista. The second film, rather different in tone and spirit from its companion, focuses primarily on his efforts in Bolivia, tracking his gradual downfall Little of Guevara's personal life aside from his activism is detailed, which is both a little surprising and somewhat vexing, especially when one considers the combined duration of both films is well over four hours. There is, of course, nothing inherently wrong with a filmed biography limiting itself to just one or two particular aspects of its subject's diverse life; such an approach can ensure better focus on the material, as opposed to risking the potential the audience may become lost in a rambling, disjointed account in which too few events in the subjects life are explored with adequate depth and clarity.

The pair of films, overall, are most memorable for their sequences of Guevara's guerrilla army training and battling in the jungles and waters of Cuba and Bolivia and especially for the climactic battles near the end of each film. They may each be overlong and not chart as much territory as they perhaps should. Some may wish they would delve further into the obscure intimacies of his life, especially for the benefit of those already familiar with his activism. Others may feel the film does not question his militant means often or strongly enough. No, the films are not perfect, but lesser movies than these have been well received and, as such, these two are worth a look.