Che and the Mighty One
The Motorcycle Diaries
A beautiful movie. I went in with a fair degree of ignorance about the 'Poster Boy' of revolution... and came out with just as much ignorance of his political motives. That is a good thing. I will learn about the political opinion from other sources. This movie itself (from the book) is a tale of buddies who start with a single goal and time and travel gives them individual purpose. It's a good movie because it doesn't preach Che's political ideals nor does it have a moral or narrative of his growth. It is quite simply a story of two buddies... and their innocent travels through South America. And as long as you go into this movie with the idea of watching a narrative of travels, and not one of political development... you will thoroughly enjoy the movie. The visuals of South America are beautiful... and this movie is all the more significant to me because I have always wanted to take off the way Ernesto and Alberto do.
A must-watch.
Rating: 5/5
And just out of curiosity, I did some digging... and I thought this article in the Guardian (the first report of Che's death) would make for an interesting read.
US Intelligence agent in at Che Guevara's death
Richard Gott
Tuesday October 10, 1967
The Guardian
The body of Che Guevara was flown into this small hill town in south-eastern Bolivia at five o'clock last night. From the moment the helicopter landed bearing the small figure strapped in a stretcher to the landing rails, the succeeding operation was to a large extent left in the hands of a man in battledress, who, all the correspondents here agree, was unquestionably a representative of one of the United States intelligence agencies.
He was probably a Cuban exile and so Che Guevara, who in life had declared war almost singlehanded on the United States, found himself in death face to face with his major enemy. The helicopter purposely landed far from where a crowd had gathered and the body of the dead guerrilla leader was hastily transferred to a van. We commandeered a jeep to follow it and the driver managed to get through the gates of the hospital grounds where the body was taken to a small colour-washed hut that served as a mortuary.
The doors of the van burst open and the American agent leapt out, emitting a war cry of "Let's get the hell out of here". One of the correspondents asked him where he came from. "Nowhere", was the surly response.
The body, dressed in olive green fatigues with a zippered jacket, was carried into the hut. It was undoubtedly that of Che Guevara. Ever since I first reported in January that Che was probably in Bolivia I have not shared the general scepticism about his whereabouts.
I am probably one of the few people here who have seen him alive. I saw him in Cuba at an Embassy reception in 1963 and there is no doubt in my mind that this body was that of Che. It had a black wispy beard, long matted hair, and the shadow of a scar on the right temple, probably the result of an accident in July when he was grazed by a rifle shot.
On his feet he wore moccasins as though he had been shot down while running fleet-footed through the jungle. He had two wounds in the lower part of the neck and possibly one in the stomach. It is believed that he was captured when seriously wounded, but died before a helicopter could arrive to take him out of the battle zone.
My only doubts about the identity arose because Che was much thinner and smaller than I had recalled, but it is hardly surprising that after months in the jungle he had lost his former heavy appearance.
As soon as the body reached the mortuary the doctors began to pump preservative into it, and the American agent made desperate efforts to keep off the crowds. He was a very nervous man and looked furious whenever cameras were pointed in his direction. He knew that I knew who he was and he also knew that I knew that he should not be there, for this is a war in which the Americans are not supposed to be taking part. Yet here was this man, who has been with the troops in Vallegrande, talking to the senior officers on familiar terms.
One can hardly say that this was the factor with which Che failed to reckon, for it was his very purpose to provoke United States intervention in Latin America as a way of bringing help and succour to the embattled Vietnamese. But he certainly did fail to estimate correctly the strength and pervasiveness of the U.S. intelligence agencies in this continent, and this more than anything else has been the cause of his downfall and that of the Bolivian guerrillas.
And so he is dead. As they pumped preservative into his half-naked, dirty body and as the crowd shouted to be allowed to see, it was difficult to recall that this man had once been one of the great figures of Latin America.
It was not just that he was a great guerrilla leader, he had been a friend of Presidents as well as revolutionaries. His voice had been heard and appreciated in inter-American councils as well as in the jungle. He was a doctor, an amateur economist, once Minister of Industries in revolutionary Cuba, and Fidel Castro's right-hand man. He may well go down in history as the greatest continental figure since Bolivar. Legends will be created around his name.
He was a Marxist but impatient of the doctrinal struggles between the Russians and the Chinese. He was perhaps the last person who tried to find a middle way between the two and attempted to unite radical forces everywhere in a concerted campaign against the U.S. He is now dead, but it is difficult to feel that his ideas will die with him.
A beautiful movie. I went in with a fair degree of ignorance about the 'Poster Boy' of revolution... and came out with just as much ignorance of his political motives. That is a good thing. I will learn about the political opinion from other sources. This movie itself (from the book) is a tale of buddies who start with a single goal and time and travel gives them individual purpose. It's a good movie because it doesn't preach Che's political ideals nor does it have a moral or narrative of his growth. It is quite simply a story of two buddies... and their innocent travels through South America. And as long as you go into this movie with the idea of watching a narrative of travels, and not one of political development... you will thoroughly enjoy the movie. The visuals of South America are beautiful... and this movie is all the more significant to me because I have always wanted to take off the way Ernesto and Alberto do.
A must-watch.
Rating: 5/5
And just out of curiosity, I did some digging... and I thought this article in the Guardian (the first report of Che's death) would make for an interesting read.
US Intelligence agent in at Che Guevara's death
Richard Gott
Tuesday October 10, 1967
The Guardian
The body of Che Guevara was flown into this small hill town in south-eastern Bolivia at five o'clock last night. From the moment the helicopter landed bearing the small figure strapped in a stretcher to the landing rails, the succeeding operation was to a large extent left in the hands of a man in battledress, who, all the correspondents here agree, was unquestionably a representative of one of the United States intelligence agencies.
He was probably a Cuban exile and so Che Guevara, who in life had declared war almost singlehanded on the United States, found himself in death face to face with his major enemy. The helicopter purposely landed far from where a crowd had gathered and the body of the dead guerrilla leader was hastily transferred to a van. We commandeered a jeep to follow it and the driver managed to get through the gates of the hospital grounds where the body was taken to a small colour-washed hut that served as a mortuary.
The doors of the van burst open and the American agent leapt out, emitting a war cry of "Let's get the hell out of here". One of the correspondents asked him where he came from. "Nowhere", was the surly response.
The body, dressed in olive green fatigues with a zippered jacket, was carried into the hut. It was undoubtedly that of Che Guevara. Ever since I first reported in January that Che was probably in Bolivia I have not shared the general scepticism about his whereabouts.
I am probably one of the few people here who have seen him alive. I saw him in Cuba at an Embassy reception in 1963 and there is no doubt in my mind that this body was that of Che. It had a black wispy beard, long matted hair, and the shadow of a scar on the right temple, probably the result of an accident in July when he was grazed by a rifle shot.
On his feet he wore moccasins as though he had been shot down while running fleet-footed through the jungle. He had two wounds in the lower part of the neck and possibly one in the stomach. It is believed that he was captured when seriously wounded, but died before a helicopter could arrive to take him out of the battle zone.
My only doubts about the identity arose because Che was much thinner and smaller than I had recalled, but it is hardly surprising that after months in the jungle he had lost his former heavy appearance.
As soon as the body reached the mortuary the doctors began to pump preservative into it, and the American agent made desperate efforts to keep off the crowds. He was a very nervous man and looked furious whenever cameras were pointed in his direction. He knew that I knew who he was and he also knew that I knew that he should not be there, for this is a war in which the Americans are not supposed to be taking part. Yet here was this man, who has been with the troops in Vallegrande, talking to the senior officers on familiar terms.
One can hardly say that this was the factor with which Che failed to reckon, for it was his very purpose to provoke United States intervention in Latin America as a way of bringing help and succour to the embattled Vietnamese. But he certainly did fail to estimate correctly the strength and pervasiveness of the U.S. intelligence agencies in this continent, and this more than anything else has been the cause of his downfall and that of the Bolivian guerrillas.
And so he is dead. As they pumped preservative into his half-naked, dirty body and as the crowd shouted to be allowed to see, it was difficult to recall that this man had once been one of the great figures of Latin America.
It was not just that he was a great guerrilla leader, he had been a friend of Presidents as well as revolutionaries. His voice had been heard and appreciated in inter-American councils as well as in the jungle. He was a doctor, an amateur economist, once Minister of Industries in revolutionary Cuba, and Fidel Castro's right-hand man. He may well go down in history as the greatest continental figure since Bolivar. Legends will be created around his name.
He was a Marxist but impatient of the doctrinal struggles between the Russians and the Chinese. He was perhaps the last person who tried to find a middle way between the two and attempted to unite radical forces everywhere in a concerted campaign against the U.S. He is now dead, but it is difficult to feel that his ideas will die with him.
posted by Harish at 08:43
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home