In Theaters: Invictus
The line between Mandela as human calculator and Mandela as saint is one that screenwriter Anthony Peckham (who adapted John Carlin's book, Playing the Enemy) is forced to walk like a narrative plank: there's trouble in either direction. Because Invictus (a title taken from that of William Ernest Henley's poem; its last lines, "I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul" are invoked several times) only glances on history and is not a particularly well-wrought character study, Eastwood leans on the shorthand for sainthood to bond us to Freeman's upright, endearing old gent. Although one character addresses the issue directly, pointing out that Mandela is "a man, not a saint," all evidence is to the contrary. Indeed, the hints at Mandela's personal life, including an estranged wife and disgruntled children, are made on the plane of a politician's disingenuous response to a question about fatal flaws: I just work too hard; I care too much.
Damon, sporting 15 extra pounds of beefcake, Hitler Youth hair, and a little blob of putty to butch up his button nose, attacks the Afrikaaner accent and his game face with his typical overachiever's commitment. "We need to farkis!" He screams at his teammates. "Farkis! Farkis!" Up there with the Newfoundland accent in terms of toughness, Damon nails the dialect like a champ, and it's a good thing, because it's one of the few opportunities his character has to make a mark.
Eastwood lavishes time on the final game between New Zealand and South Africa (including a spellbinding Maori warrior routine done by the former before the game), which wouldn't be a bad thing if a) rugby were at all comprehensible to the uninitiated, or b) he had any gift for shooting sports sequences. The still photos that appear of the actual players during the credits have more velocity. Rugby, a game that is basically designed to collapse on itself, does not lend itself to the form -- a predicament Eastwood attempts to solve with lots of portentous slo-mo between the field and the healing effects it is having on the spectators. What was clearly a spectacular but extremely complicated moment for the people of South Africa feels both tarted up and dumbed down in this hyper-conventional conception; it's a testament, most of all, to Eastwood's enduringly roughshod aesthetic.
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Comments
I am anxious to see this movie, having enjoyed the book. However, since I am in a country that contains more than a dozen actual rugby fans, I will of course not be able to see it until February.
(Also, I would like to thank you for using "affects" correctly, unlike everyone else on the whole damned internet).
Oh dear! A film from the USA featuring rugby union. Can it possibly avoid cringe-making misunderstandings and cultural faux pas?
Not on the form of the above review, anyway. The "Maori warrior routine" is, of course, the Haka, performed not only by the All Blacks, but by other Polynesian nations before every game. It is familar to, and well loved by, all followers of both rugby union and rugby league.
A fake Afrikaaner accent will undoubtedly be cringe-making, as Hollywood's attempts at Scots, Welsh and Irish accents have always been.
Will we see actors from the USA attempting to look like rugby players in training etc? Why not use Afrikaaner actors who not only have authentic accents but could show credible ball skills as well, even if only remembered from schooldays.
The South African rugby union team was not so much "flailing" when apartheid ended as just 30 years behind the times. They are one of the strongest rugby nations in the world, it was simply that their game had not developed as it had elsewhere and they needed to catch up technically and tactically with the modern game.
Finally, and so the reviewer and people in the USA know, some of the world's greatest players (such as Brian Habana) are now non-white South Africans. Their head coach isn't a white man, either. Rugby union was never a white preserve in South Africa. It was just that non-white people were kept out of the "official" game and the international team.
I just saw this last night, and I am still unconvinced that Eastwood is a consistently great director. Some act as though he is always a sure thing come awards season, but does he really deserve it? This movie was missing something. I was bored and found myself wondering why so much time was spent focusing on the awful CGI crowd. If your movie has a weakness, don't keep showing it to me!
Hmmm, I thought that rehearsal dinners were for the wedding party and immediate family - 200 people at $1,000 each?