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  • The Last King of Scotland is a Puzzling Piece

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    To warn readers, and due to how I voraciously filled up my Netflix queue when I first subscribed, the next three non-AFI related selections (since I occasionally bump a movie up if it's next on the AFI list) not only revert back to Oscar nominees and winners but seem to focus on message movies about Africa.  This would be the first of the three and the second overall of four, if Blood Diamond is included.  Forest Whitaker won the Best Actor Oscar for his portrayal of Idi Amin, Ugandan dictator in the late 70s.  I never watched the movie on release.  I tend not to focus my scant (as time allows) Oscar movie watching efforts on the categories where there is no contest, and Whitaker never faced any real competition that year.  I have seen four out of the five Best Actor nominated films from that year now, so it's nice to have the comparison (as a reminder, the five actors nominated were Ryan Gosling for Half Nelson; Will Smith for the The Pursuit of Happyness; Leonardo DiCaprio for Blood Diamond; Peter O'Toole for Venus; and Forest).  Since this is an award from two years ago, I'll just focus on the film itself, since I also enjoy watching Oscar films a couple of years after the fact because it minimizes the effects of awards-show hype for me.

    Yet, again, I digress.  The Last King of Scotland is adapted from a novel of the same name.  The novel chronicles the events surrounding a fictional character, a doctor Nicholas Garrigan (here played by James McAvoy, aka, Mr. Tumnus), who flees to Africa and Uganda looking for adventure and, apparently, casual sex.  Hey, the plot summary above says it that way too!  There, while working for a missionary doctor and becoming smitten with his wife, Sarah (Gillian Anderson, aka, Scully), Nicholas bears witness to a village rally by Amin and is taken with his charismatic words.  After Amin is injured in a vehicle-on-cow collision and calls for a doctor, and since Nicholas and Sarah are conveniently close by, Nicholas comes to his rescue, having the audacity to speak strongly to Amin and use his gun on the miserable cow without permission.  Afterward, Amin is taken with Nicholas and woos him into being his personal family physician.  It is during his tenure that Nicholas begins to learn that he is in way over his head, especially after he takes up with Amin's wife Kay (Kerry Washington) and sees Amin for what he really is - a charming, paranoid, and murderous madman.

    I have problems with this movie.  Before I get to the problems, I'll focus on the positives.  Forest Whitaker really was larger-than-life astounding here.  I don't know much about Idi Amin, but what I do know is that it could not have been easy to get inside the head of this man who tried to talk himself into believing that killing his own countrymen and deporting certain racial and ethnic groups were all for the good of his country.  Bridging the divide between mirthful chucklehead and unhinged paranoic was truly a gargantuan feat, and I think he ultimately deserved Oscar gold because no other role could have been as challenging for an actor who has not, traditionally, taken many acting risks.  His performance ratcheted up the level of intensity of this film so much because he was so unpredictable, the viewer never knew where the movie or his mood was going.  He stole every scene he was in, even when he was coming unglued, and the menace of his benign side was almost as terrifying as the side prone to random (and not-so-random) murders and mutilations.

    The supporting performances were also good if not great.  The performance of the smarmy British consul looking to exploit Nicholas' position was not good.  I don't know who that guy was, but he was weird - disaffected, almost surreal, but maybe that was because he was simply a convenient plot device.

    But wait, I'm focusing on the positives.  The direction was decent, using a point-and-shoot documentary style at some points and, at other points, using close-ups to focus on faces and expressions of individuals in large groups listening to or supporting Amin. The unique score was interesting, blending African motifs with hard-edged Western rock in the form of punctuating electric guitar riffs.  The pacing was tight - it was an action packed, engaging two hours, and for my money, this was a different film about Africa, in that it didn't focus on the plight as much as on the man responsible for the plight, with the plight being mostly hinted at until Nicholas realizes what is happening in his own mind.

    But...then there are the problems, and it starts with the novel.  I never read the source material, so I don't know how the characters and events were portrayed there, but the largest problem with the film is that it wanted to tell the story of the rise and fall of this dictator, I guess as a historical study.  Yet, the story and the film focused almost entirely on the fictional character's experience and perspective.  I read on Wikipedia that Nicholas might have been based on a real doctor (not Scottish) who served Amin, but who never had an affair with his wife and remained in Amin's employ only briefly.  The film never shifted focus to Amin - Amin was, at times, a peripheral character, even though he was the antagonist of the piece.  The film is told from Nicholas' observations, but he, himself, is a problematic character in that he's some sort of whiny, high-minded but hypocritical jerk, which served well to illustrate why this character might have been charmed by Amin in the first place but did not provide the viewer a sympathetic place to start.  In fact, I'm not sure how to accept the point of this story overall - am I supposed to view this movie as one that offers both sides of Amin's character (though it draws a conclusion in the end)?  Am I supposed to accept that Africa is just another dumping ground for Western (and, therefore, White) manipulation and colonialism (I think that was the underlying message...), even though Nicholas is just a young and naive Western transplant who doesn't understand the realities of the real world?  Am I supposed to feel sorry for Mr. Tumnus or feel angry at Amin or even vice versa?  Maybe I'm supposed to have all of these opinions, but that smacks of a lack of center, even if left open to interpretation.

    In the end, I don't think it matters what I feel about what the movie was trying to do and say because the movie follows Nicholas, and Nicholas wasn't real, even if Amin was.  And Nicholas' story wasn't complete.  The entire movie offered a well-rounded, if flawed, character study of the young man until the end, and then all of the footnotes were about Amin.  So, perhaps, the focus was on Amin, the self-titled "Last King of Scotland" (because he felt a kinship with the historically oppressed northern neighbor of England), but the viewer is offered so few glimpses into Amin's perspective.  That's probably because no one could really know Amin's perspective, especially now since he's no longer alive.

    I think the major problem I'm having with the film is that I can't accept it as a non-biased historical study, since there are clearly underlying prejudices on the part of the novelist and/or the screenwriters, and I can't accept it as a work of pure fiction because it uses events that actually happened and doesn't actually work as pure fiction.  And if it's a message movie, the message is convoluted.  Amin bad?  White man bad?  The world bad?  All of the above?  So, my reaction in the end can best be summed up by saying, "What's the point?"

    These are strong reactions, but I tend to react stronger to a film that is as graphic as this one turned out to be.  I have to understand the motivations and what the movie is trying to convey to me in order to process all of the parts, including the ones I may not have liked (and there is a particularly gruesome scene after Amin finds out about the affair).  I understand that the blending of fact and fiction is a creative license on the part of the filmmakers, but my ultimate complaint is that if the license is going to be taken, there should be a center and a focus that The Last King of Scotland as a film fails to achieve because it waffles between a historical examination of a dictator, and the motivations of a man who happens to be employed by him - and the latter is more fleshed out, though not tied off in the end, like, perhaps, with some footnote about what happened to Nicholas Garrigan after the end of the movie.  Forest Whitaker's performance is great, but the film is not, as I've so verbosely opined.  I think in ratings land - and I find this one a tough one to call - I'm landing on a 6.5, between cute and shaky, though it strikes me that Blood Diamond was actually a better movie all in all.  Maybe I need to revise that one up to a 7.  In any event, this film fails the test because it was intense and graphic and frustrating, and I don't find that Forest Whitaker's performance makes up for that enough to own the film.  The Last King of Scotland is a puzzling piece of filmmaking, even if it is a creative examination of world history not widely known in this day, age, and on the Western side of the world.


  • Revisiting The Godfather Part II for the AFI Project

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    What's the AFI Project, you ask?  For more information, or if you just enjoy my bemused ramblings, read here: http://www.spout.com/blogs/pippin06/archive/2008/3/1/25756.aspx

    The Godfather Part II is on the following AFI lists:

    The Original Top 100 (#32)
    100 Years...100 Heroes and Villains (Michael Corleone is the #11 villain)
    100 Movie Quotes (#58 - Michael Corleone: "Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.")
    The Revised Top 100 (#32)
    10 Top 10's (#3 Gangster)

    Since I own the Godfather trilogy, I own the second part of the trilogy.  The test would have passed anyway.  As much as the first one, the second Godfather movie is a masterpiece (a perfect 10 from me!).  The reason why it's such a masterpiece is because, when held up to its predecessor, it feels both like a sequel and like its own separate film, that could stand on its own without knowing how Michael (Al Pacino) achieved his crime boss status.  It's richer though when the viewer knows the events of the first movie.  The question is whether it's better than the original.  Some try to argue that it is, but I have issues with that stance.  Ergo, I disagree wih that assessment, but before I discuss that opinion - plot summary!

    Michael thinks he's being strong for his family, but his decisions do more to alienate and divide than to keep the Corleones together.  He tries to expand the family's interests in Las Vegas and Miami with the help of a former associate of his father's, Hyman Roth (Lee Strasberg), though both are engaged in a silent and duplicitous power struggle in the name of business and profit.  Michael's wife Kay (Diane Keaton) tires of the threats on her life and her family and her husband's cold and distant demeanor, occasionally begging him to make the family legitimate.  Michael's siblings feel various states of alienation - Connie (Talia Shire) is committed to self-destruction in the face of her overprotective older brother; Fredo (John Cazale) feels the sting of being branded the family idiot (and the consequences of that); and adoptive brother and family lawyer Tom Hagen (Robert Duvall) is treated with distrust, so much so that he comes to distrust Michael.  All the while, Michael's heretofore pure intentions and aims to liberate himself from his family are long forgotten, as his ambition transforms into his spiritual degradation. 

    Brilliantly, his downfall is paralleled with the interspliced backstory surrounding the rise of Vito's power.  Young Vito (eventually played by Oscar winner Robert DeNiro) escapes Sicily after his entire family is murdered in cold blood by the local mafia boss.  He survives and manages to make it to New York City and Little Italy, where Black Hand Fanucci bullies the tenants with extortion and violence.  Vito, and his friends, including a young Clemenza (Bruno Kirby), take matters into their own hands and achieve a powerful reputation and status.

    Like the original movie, the second film is a thing of beauty in just how well it was made.  The performances, particularly by Pacino and DeNiro, are mesmerizingly brilliantly awesome.  I don't have enough adjectives for them!  Bobby won the Supporting Oscar, deservedly, for evoking Marlon Brando's mannerisms and complex emotional portrayals even when he was not involved in the film.  And Pacino gave his career-making performance in this film (it'll probably be referred to on his tombstone, for pete's sake).  For consideration of just how good his performance is, I call attention to a couple of scenes: the scene in which Kay tells him she's leaving him; the scene in which he talks to his mother about what she believed his father used to think about; the scene in which he confronts Fredo; the scenes in the Congressional hearing; and the scenes during which he's talking to his sister Connie (at the beginning and at the end).  Compare the moods of each scene and notice how Pacino morphed his silence and facial expressions into so many faces and reactions, from explosive anger to fear to heartbreaking sadness to stoicism to disappointment and resignation.

    That's the genius about Michael Corleone, Pacino's performance, and Coppola's overall direction of this character and this film.  Michael's supposed to be the villain.  You're supposed to hate him.  He's singlehandedly torn apart that which his father worked so hard to build.  The family that he wanted to keep together no longer exists.  Yet, he remains so oddly sympathetic; occasionally, you find yourself rooting him on.  You can see, through the nuances and total picture painted by Pacino, that Michael believes that what he's doing is the right thing, even though it couldn't be more wrong.  That's a powerful and poignant realization, particularly when held up in parallel to Vito who, though morally ambiguous, is never morally corrupt as his son eventually becomes.  It's this fulcrum around which this second chapter revolves and what makes the film the great sequel that it is.

    The art direction, the cinematography, the score - all of the technical ingredients were given the same treatment and care they were given in the first film.  The flashback scenes had the grainy, gold-brown quality that made them feel like old movies, contrasting with the cold, dark ,almost oppressive hues of Michael's present.  In addition, the art direction, particularly in turn-of-the-century and Depression-era Little Italy, was beautiful.  I noticed all of the little store fronts and details inside the grocery store in which Vito worked and contrasted those details with the 50s-era post-modern decor in Michael's Nevada compound.  It was all just very well done.

    The whole movie feels like an opera, minus the singing, and I think that's why people are more inclined to call the sequel better.  I call the sequel "as good as the first," because it's like comparing apples to oranges, really.  The first Godfather is about moral ambiguity and how riding the fence is not the same as simply doing what's right.  It's the portrait of a man and his family, as well as the study of a son's devotion to his father, at the expense of his innocence, and it's far less dark than the second.  The second film is about moral degradation - how riding the fence actually leads to falling off the fence entirely and the consequences of doing so and how making bad choices can lead to a dangerously slippery slope and self-ruination.  The two films taken together chronicle the spiritual fall of the son, so, for me, it's hard to separate them and compare.  I like them both equally for different reasons.

    This is just a cheeky aside, but have you ever noticed that the story here and the overall story in the original Star Wars films feel very similar, with the exception that Luke Skywalker, the prodigal son in the latter, doesn't choose the dark side of the Force while Michael does?  Ok, that might be a stretch, but in my analysis, it's hard to deny the similarities, though George Lucas and Francis Coppola have been longtime friends.

    In any event, The Godfather Part II is a powerful film, as great as its predecessor, because it's comprised of the same great elements that worked so well with the first film.  Now, at some point, I'm going to break down and watch the third part, and see if it's as bad as everyone says it is.  I have a feeling that they probably just waited too long to make it - we'll see what I think in the end.