I remember when "The Motorcycle Diaries" first hit the theaters and how all of the buzz was about the choice to make this film in Spanish. Would it be commercially viable in the United States? And I'm so glad that the creators and backers of this amazing story didn't give that question a second thought.
However, what sort of surprises me is that the content and subject of the film didn't cause even a ripple of controversy. Oh, the power of ubiquitous posters and T-shirts to reduce a person's legacy from subversive to impotent, eh?
It's, after all, the tale of the awakening of one of the most significant and iconoclastic revolutionaries of the 20th century -- Ernesto "Che" Guevara. And it's told in a way that does nothing but glorify the young man from Buenos Aires who was born to privilege in 1928, who had nearly completed medical school just pryor to this adventure, and who eventually was assassinated by the CIA in 1967 after leading the Cuban revolution at the side of Fidel Castro. An amazing, improbable life.
Politics aside, the film clearly portrays the birth of a selfless soul, and left me wishing I could have known this man. No doubt had he lived, Nelson Mandela might today have a soulmate with whom to discuss the virtues of idealism in the service of the disenfranchized.
The film itself is another tour de force for director Walter Salles. Not as completely powerful for me as his epic "Central Station," but profound in other ways. The leads are wonderful. And Gael Garcia Bernal establishes himself with this role as the preeminent Latin actor in the world today. His presence on screen can rival any actor, and his sincere beauty of soul and body draw you into his character as if you were it's skin. You move as he moves, you know what he knows, and you feel what he feels.
Get out the kleenex! What's new?
You must see this one, really.
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