Che, an Evaluation

A NOVELIC MEMOIR of Ernesto Guevara’s role within the Cuban—and later, the Bolivian—Revolution, Steven Soderbergh’s Che explores, through perpetually shifting camera views, plots, and time sequences, both Guevara’s tactical leadership of his guerilla troops in his moments of success in Cuba and his utter failures in securing loyal contacts and self-guided followers in Bolivia, documenting his life from his rise to revolutionary power to his eventual fall years later.

In Che: Part 1, The Argentine, a couplet of scenettes ultimately determine Guevara’s steadfast leadership skills. In the first, the audience is exposed to glimpses of men raiding a house—only later are they revealed as revolutionaries, leading to the assumption that they act to secure supplies for their troops and that all of the above is a portion of a larger mission of which the audience will soon be aware—cutting open bags of flour and stealing nearly everything upon the house’s shelves; afterwards, they march four locals, all the prisoners yelling and in tears. In the next scene, Guevara lines the guerilla men, facing him, with the locals standing behind them, and Guevara scolds each of them for their treatment of the natives, ultimately alluding to his greater belief that inappropriate behavior—in addition to stealing food, one of the men raped a native woman in the name of a better Cuba—on behalf of his troops discredits his own movement, the revolution, and cannot be tolerated. The film shows not the scavengers ever again.

Evita: A Fallen Populist Queen

As John McManners, British clergyman and religious historian, once wrote, "In all of Latin America, only one other woman has aroused an emotion, devotion and faith comparable to those awakened by the Virgin of Guadalupe. In many homes, the image of Evita is on the wall next to the Virgin" (McManners 441). Eva Perón—commonly under the appellation of Evita, its diminutive—a champion of the Argentine women's suffrage movement, a voice for the nearly disenfranchised descamisados population of her nation, and a frequent base of comparison to Bernadette Soubirous, entered the world on May 7, 1919, only to fail in her battle against cervical cancer 33 years later.

Giving the Self to the World Beyond

If we elect, we may become the culmination of all that has come before us. Gleaning from the examples of previous generations, we explore expression in an attempt to precisely define our thoughts and emotions in all the complexity they deserve. We struggle to see through the clouds of our consciousness, finding hints of the faraway stars of our thought in our use of techniques passed down to us.

In William Shakespeare’s sonnets; Johann Sebastian Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos; Jack Kerouac’s Book of Haikus; and Dizzy Gillespie, Charles Mingus, Thelonious Monk, and Charlie Parker’s cutting-edge exploration of the Bebop solo, each artist utilized contemporary techniques, improved by preceding generations’ lengthy experimentation, to relinquish themselves to their audience, leaving nothing behind but the space in which they used to reside. Despite the variances in each of these artists’ methods, their work allowed their souls to transcend the vessel of their lives, to become part of humanity. We, as passive onlookers in times far past their own, must only ask how they attained artistic immortality and how we may follow their lead.

Awareness and Complicity

The European colonization of Africa’s ramifications transcend far beyond that of the widespread exploitation and theft of African people, resources, and artwork. Indeed, in “annexing” nations, with a limited understanding of the tribal backgrounds of their newly occupied subjects, leaders in European governments, under a false pretense of sharing both Christianity and civilization at large, miscategorized peoples—supposedly indistinguishable to the European eye—often forming racial or socioeconomic hierarchies within numerous African societies that had never before existed. Alas, this painful imposing of unjustified and unnecessary ideologies birthed numerous harsh human rights crises, specifically genocide, amongst African peoples that had previously coexisted in relative peace. Additionally, in response to these catastrophes, many Western nations have avoided ameliorating these arduous events, evolving from denying the disaster and regretting their neglect to recognizing the predicament, yet straying from genuine attempts at reconciliation.

The Grave Repercussions of Traditional and Untraditional Love

In the contemporary era of heightened social connectivity, yet widespread seclusion, we scour our lives for an interpersonal bond that would quench our thirst for emotional growth within positive relationships. However, as domestic violence rampages like a hurricane, the prospects of our dogmatic attempt at relational fulfillment, marriage, may be bleaker than we had once suspected. Rather, we may need to strive for alternative social constructs, in order to glean the benefits we had once imagined marriage to provide: emotional and physical interdependence and growth. By exploring the catastrophic repercussions of Stanley’s abuse of Stella in Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire, juxtaposing their tragic relationship with the emotional support and familial ambience of Tim’s platoon in Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried, readers may discover that the potential prosperity of marriage may often be found in alternative relationships, and likewise, it may even be absent in matrimony altogether.