Che (2008)
Director: Steven Soderbergh
Cast: Benicio Del Toro, Demian Bichir, Rodrigo Santoro, and Julia Ormond
Rated: R
Runtime: 257 min.
by Brian Eggert
Reviewed:
01/29/2009
Original Release Date:
12/12/2008
In Steven Soderbergh’s epic-sized passion project Che, the Argentina-born revolutionary Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevera fights an unforeseen foe. While Che provides the insurgents of Cuba and Bolivia with impeccable leadership and ardent idealism, this enemy grows in strength and power, and by the end of Soderbergh’s four-and-a-half hour marathon, Che’s entire campaign is defeated. This rival is not a political entity or governmental leader, but rather the expectations associated with a film of this potential narrative scope and cinematic magnitude.
Depending on where you live and when you decide to finally see Che, it might be presented in a “roadshow edition” that runs the full 257-minute expanse, complete with intermission, an elaborate playbill, and a ticket price elevated accordingly. Others might have to screen “Part One” and “Part Two” separately; dubbed The Argentine and Guerilla, each part lasts just over two hours and serves a complete individual arc. IFC, who purchased distribution rights, also made both halves available through “video on demand” via all cable and satellite providers; customers can download the two parts for a hefty fee, equating to about two moviehouse tickets.
Whenever approaching a film with such a long running time, I do so without reservation. If a director felt every scene within the running time was necessary, then so be it. And perhaps they were validated in their choice. After all, David Lean released Lawrence of Arabia and Doctor Zhivago, both wonderful and extremely lengthy pictures that seem to pass by in an instant. Every scene in those films feels crucial and beautiful, and even if they continued on and on we couldn’t complain. Take, for example, Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, which in its Extended Edition DVD format run about 12-hours for all three. And yet, I have no problem committing a whole day once a year to simply existing in Jackson’s Middle Earth—a world constructed with such superb verisimilitude that we lose ourselves therein.
Anyway, my point is that running time means nothing as a number, not until the movie proves itself worthy (or unworthy) of that time. But the emotionally disconnected atmosphere of Che hinders the drama, and ultimately brings attention to the drudgery of finally… arriving... at the… end. Made with a documentarian’s attention to detail, Soderbergh shot chronologically in natural light, constructing his diptych around the details of two separate military campaigns with impassioned devotion to realism versus over-dramatization. But he forgets he’s not making a documentary, rather a story with grave if untapped themes. Todd McCarthy of Variety said it best: “Che doesn’t feel epic—just long.”
“Part One” centers on the position of Che (Benecio Del Toro) in the Cuban revolution and his alliance with Fidel Castro (Demian Bichir), intercut by his appearance at the United Nations in 1964 and various interviews about his ideals with journalist Lisa Howard (Julia Ormond). “Part Two” involves his arrival in Bolivia, his failed crusade and fading glory, but avoids showcasing his atrocious execution by that country’s leaders. What we never understand is where Che’s revolutionary spirit comes from. Of course Soderbergh explains his motivations in structured talks, but he avoids discussing the character on terms that might help the viewer to identify with him. Che’s wife and child, for example, play little to no role in the figure’s formation within the movie. Why is that? Where does his patriotism come from? It’s not enough, in this case, to simply acknowledge its existence. As much as this might be a cliché, I kept wondering if Del Toro was onset asking, “What’s my motivation?” I then pictured Soderbergh without an answer.
What doesn’t work for the picture is what paradoxically should be its greatest strength, namely Soderbergh’s direction. His films are commonly staid but splashed with unobtrusive formal style; they’re emotionally detached and muted—characteristics that service something like Solaris (2002), but take away from a historical biography about a revolutionary icon. Del Toro’s Che says it best when he identifies the key characteristic of a revolutionary as “love.” And what is love without its expression?
Del Toro’s performance presents an eerie embodiment that’s impossible not to admire. Also producing the film, he spent years researching his role, read everything available, traveled to the locations where the film’s events took place, and conducted interviews with those close to his subject. As an actor, his enthusiasm reached far passed appreciation and spilled over into personal obsession. This is visible in his performance, as Del Toro seems to consume himself in Che’s gravitas. His performance may not articulate the inner feelings of his character, akin to the rest of the production, but he’s believable.
Whether it’s the failing of Peter Buchman and Benjamin A. van der Veen’s screenplay, based on Che’s own Reminiscences of the Cuban Revolutionary War and Bolivian Diary, or a failure of Soderbergh’s direction, or perhaps an unfortunate combination of the two, the film just flat out fails to rapt the audience throughout the full stretch. It’s a gorgeously photographed picture, filled with impressive imagery—made more so when we realize Soderbergh shot his footage on digital. Using the new Red One, which records resolutions nearly matching 35mm but without the trouble of film stock, he shot efficiently and beautifully. If only his narrative was as striking.
