The Film Behind the Man Behind the T-Shirts
BY PETER LABUZA, DANIEL VALELLA
PUBLISHED DECEMBER 02, 2008
Spectator film critics Peter Labuza and Daniel Valella debate the merits of Che, which debuted in America this October at the New York Film Festival, and will play a limited run this December.
How does the cultural image of Che play into the film?
Peter Labuza: The Che of Steven Soderbergh’s new film is not at all what one would expect. Soderbergh keeps his camera at a distance from the historical figure throughout the film, and gives little biographical information. Even Benicio Del Toro’s marvelous performance is reserved—he strays away from the camera, more introvert than revolutionary hero. Under Soderbergh and Del Toro, Che transforms from a radical leader to a cautious, yet intelligent human. Rather than the image of Che, the two filmmakers explore the image of revolution. Nearly five hours long, the film is split into two parts—one on Che’s successful Cuban revolution and one on his failed conquest in Bolivia years later. Che truly explores the notion of revolution and the fragility of its success.
Daniel Valella: All those T-shirts, posters, and wall murals that proudly feature the revolutionary Argentine figure that is Che Guevara seem insignificant after watching Steven Soderbergh’s Che. The film simply doesn’t do justice to the powerful cultural icon. Instead, the movie begs the question, “Why is this guy such a big deal?” After nearly five hours—of fighting, struggling, and lots of talking—it still isn’t clear why so many people view Che as a hero. Yes, Benicio Del Toro does an excellent job portraying the revolutionary, but it seems Soderbergh decided to put on camera only the parts of Che’s life that are different from what viewers might expect, as though the director made the conscious choice to downplay—and therefore redefine—the Argentine’s cultural importance. A new and perhaps equally interesting Che is born through both Soderbergh and Del Toro. The old one is lost completely.
Peter: What it felt like to me is that Soderbergh and Del Toro, in both storytelling and performance are removing the myth of Che and making him into someone we can relate to, a human instead of a myth. Soderbergh focuses on those quiet moments in the jungle not to take away his status, but to show the real side of Che when he wasn’t giving speeches. Che trusts that its audience knows the story of its hero, and then challenges them to dig deeper. Che doesn’t redefine the cultural icon as much as it shows a more honest side to the man we never knew.
How does Soderbergh’s filmmaking style affect the story?
Daniel: The RED camera—a state-of-the art camera the latest version of which is still being beta-tested—has, without question, more visual power than anything else in Soderbergh’s latest film. With it, the director manages to make scenes of Che speaking at the U.N. look exactly like stock footage compiled for a historical documentary feature. In fact, Soderbergh’s visuals in Che are so powerful that he makes anti-digital filmmakers—like Martin Scorsese, Steven Spielberg, and Oliver Stone—look almost completely unfounded in their decisions not to accept cinema’s newest state-of-the-art technology. All of Soderbergh’s frames are of the highest clarity, and every long take (of which there are many) requires immense patience, making the whole film realistic from every angle. Ironically, Soderbergh manages to alienate his artistically inclined audience with his unique style of direction. Moviegoers who enjoy aesthetic diversion from reality will hate Che, while those who love film’s ability to capture reality will adore it.
Peter: Shooting on the new digital RED cameras, Soderbergh takes a documentary approach to the film, avoiding most biopic clichés. He defines the two sections of the film with different styles. Shot in widescreen, the scenes in Cuba are lush and controlled, evoking Lawrence of Arabia and other epics. But the Bolivian part is more personal, shot with close-ups and unstable editing, reflecting Che’s growing fear of failure. In both parts, Soderbergh breaks classic narrative structure, using narration, sparse music, and non-linear moments at random times. The film is deliberately cold—we never really get to know Che’s personal feelings and life, and focus more on his strategic methods. This approach may limit the film for some audiences, but Soderbergh’s academic approach engages audiences with a greater historical picture.
Daniel: Although Soderbergh shoots in elongated widescreen takes, he doesn’t have the ability to make Che look very heroic. To this end, Soderbergh’s presentation of the revolutionary leader is without a doubt devoid of the formulaic biopic tendencies, but whereas Lawrence of Arabia and Ben-Hur are famous for their vibrant color and grandiose character entrances, Che is almost entirely dark and downplayed. Its best scenes are those in black and white. If the whole film were this way—like Schindler’s List—it would make much more sense. Che is far less epic than the classics that define the genre.
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