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 Invictus (15.)


Directed by Clint Eastwood.

Starring Morgan Freeman, Matt Damon, Tony Kgoroge, Matt Stern, Julian Lewis Jones, Patrick Mofokeng. 133 mins

A few years back a German film called The Miracle of Bern was released about their against-the-odds victory in the 1954 football World Cup. In a staggering example of deluded self image this was presented not as a tragic early example of dreary, spiritless Teutonic organisation fulfilling its historic destiny of depriving the deserved winners of World Cup glory, but as a gentle underdog comedy.

I was reminded of this while watching Eastwood’s film about South Africa’s victory in the 1995 Rugby World Cup. I’m not much of an egg chaser but I know that the celebration of a South African sporting triumph is not a widely exported commodity, not even when it was all Nelson Mandela’s doing.

It was inevitable that at some point Eastwood would offer his trusted collaborator Morgan Freeman a chance to give us his Mandela. It seems like perfect casting but the result is actually rather muted and disappointing. Once you start wacthing the reason is staring-you-in-the-face obvious: he can't use his main asset, The Voice. Instead of his own weighty tones he has to affect Mandela’s rather more jolly voice.

We are used to the saintly Mandela, but here he is almost an Obi Won Kenobi type figure, a gnomic wise man uniquely capable of discerning the right path when everybody around him is stuck in petty squabbles.

The film narrows in on how the newly elected Mandela daringly took one of the main symbols of apartheid, the Springbok rugby team, and through a partnership with its captain Francois Pienaar (Damon, nobody’s idea of an international rugby player but actually not bad) made its progress an instrument in forging a Rainbow Nation.

Except the story is left untold – the team do one training session in a township and the country is converted. It is just as well the Force is strong in this Mandela; no other explanation is given.

There is definitely a fascinating story here but the movie has no idea how to tell it. There is lots of exposition, most of which is given to Mandela’s advisors and acts to undermine his authority – what kind of leader has to have the plot explained to him every few minutes?

Eastwood can be a fantastic filmmaker but when he misses he can be deadly dull. Invictus climaxes in a tedious and lengthy recreation of the tedious and lengthy World Cup final (100 minutes of Rugby – not a single try) featuring more slow motion sporting action than Chariots of Fire, all played out in front of a virtual stadium of virtual fans all waving their flags in the creepily metronomic way of CGI sporting crowds. When Mandela finally hands over the trophy I doubt there was a moist eye in the house.


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