Motorcycle Diaries
By I wade in only with great trepidation. . .
Can you make a good film about a stone killer? Absolutely, no question. Can you make a good film about a stone killer without reference to the fact he was a killer? I’m inclined to think that you can. A good film that lionizes said killer without reference to his killings? Sure, but maybe you shouldn’t.
The Motorcycle Diaries falls into the last of these categories. Mark Kleinman, Brad DeLong, Chris Bertram, and Matt Yglesias all have thoughts on this burning issue. I can’t hope to match the firepower of those discussions (most of which emerged from a scathing review by Paul Berman at Slate), but I’ll tell you what I thought of the film.
I quite liked it, and I wasn’t overly troubled by the lack of context. Technically, the film was quite good, and the two primary actors were excellent. The pace dragged a bit toward the end, but there was much to admire in the storytelling. As for context, there perhaps could have been a trifle more, but I wasn’t unhappy. I have never understood how Che, of all the various revolutionary adventurers, achieved iconic status. The film gave a glimpse of the reasons why I still see Che shirts on University Way every other day or so. I would never wear such a shirt, but I can now better understand why some are drawn to the figure of Che. He is tragic in the sense that many Communists and no Fascists are; he legitimately believed that his actions would result in a better world for everyone. This belief led him to advocate murderous policies that went well beyond what Castro (or anyone else short of Mao or Pol Pot) was prepared to do. Indeed, few have as clearly articulated Stalinist solutions as did Che. This is tragic; an impulse for justice twisted into an advocacy for destruction.
As such, the film works much better if you understand who Che was and what he did for the rest of his career. Unfortunately, the epilogue gave no details, and at least one audience member was shocked to find that he had been executed by the Bolivians in the 1960s (idiot). The narrative revealed Che’s nascent radicalism in a few places, but even those worked better if you knew the whole story. If you don’t, I can see how you would come away with the impression of Che as unambiguously heroic figure. Ambiguous figures are, of course, a good deal more interesting than unambiguous figures, and the filmmakers may have assumed to much knowledge on the part of their audience (at least the North American audience).
On its own merits, a solid flick. As political document, a bit twitchy.