Clint Eastwood's Invictus may well be remembered for bringing the Nelson Mandela rise-to-power story to Western audiences, or for being the film Matt Damon was Oscar-nominated for instead of the one he should've been nominated for (The Informant!). But it should be remembered as the film that gave many Americans their first glimpse of rugby -- which, I must say, makes hyper-padded, five-second-play American football look like an old ladies' bridge match. We get to see only enough rugby to make us wonder what the hell the rules are, and how in the hell the players survive even one season.
It's a smart move, filmmaking-wise, because no one would otherwise go to see a film in which Morgan Freeman crinkily impersonates Nelson Mandela (another Oscar nom, of course) and heals South Africa after decades of apartheid. In fact, the film itself suggests that the entire first year or so of Mandela's historic presidency is taken up almost entirely with rugby -- watching it and worrying about it -- and we can't be blamed for doubting if restoration of a racially bitter nation is quite as easy as bonding over a sweaty ballgame.
But rugby itself is a player in the struggle -- the black majority in South Africa, like the majority of earthlings, prefer soccer. It was the white Afrikaaners who favored rugby, and so Mandela endorsed it in order to promote social cohesion. Apparently the gambit worked, and if you happily unhinge your jaw to swallow inspirational sports movies without chewing, then open up, because they rarely come with stakes this high. Teenage self-esteem or racist small town, nothing -- here's an entire country woo-hoo-ing with Damon and his mud-covered compadres after slamming the 1995 World Cup.
Eastwood brings us usual measure of finesse and largesse to the table; Invictus is a film concerned with grown-up things, with a grand measure of respect for the real world of adults. Given that, Freeman's take on Mandela is a little unctuous -- all twinkly-eyed and prankish, spouting wizened aphorisms and virtually goading the young 'uns into romances and friendships. It's not far from Hoke in Driving Miss Daisy -- except it's Nelson Mandela. It's a shame, especially since Freeman, as critic David Thomson has said, might ironically be the only actor standing capable of playing Lincoln.
Damon, on the other hand, barely has a role to play as the politically clueless captain of the rugby team, and he plays the shit out of it. Is he the most reliably sensible, empathetic, unfailingly intelligent actor of his generation? I tend to think that's why he's a box-office behemoth: there's something about Damon we trust. We know he will be fast-thinking and communicative and as responsive to dramatic crisis as we would be, even when he's played sociopaths. (Think The Talented Mr. Ripley and The Informant!, which are, not incidentally, two of Damon's few non-hits.) Being a movie star isn't only about acting and beauty - we seek out actors we can believe, and wouldn't be embarrassed to have, as our surrogates. Damon is for most of us the pointman of choice -- try to think of a current movie that wouldn't be better with him in it.