Invictus

As trepid as the tension between whites and blacks continues to be with slavery and segregation’s dark chapter in American history closed, South Africa’s chapter of apartheid had just been sealed when Nelson Mandela became its first black president in 1994 with the wounds of segregation still lingering in the nation’s psyche.

In “Invictus,” screenwriter Anthony Pechkam adapts John Carlin’s book, “Playing the Enemy,” and recounts Mandela’s struggle to bridge that bitter divide after having spent 27 years imprisoned by the apartheid government, which had treated the majority black population with brutality for over 40 years. To the surprise of whites fearing he would seek retribution and blacks perhaps expecting it, Mandela sought reconciliation, both in his own office and amongst the public in order to break the cycle of fear between the races, as well as to open greater opportunity for the fledgling nation to grow.

Morgan Freeman plays the South African leader, but fails to be anything more than just enough. Although the coupling of Freeman’s apparent resemblance to Mandela and his own iconic stature in film made him the perfect choice in this fusion of a character study, period piece and sports movie, his performance seemed more characteristic of himself than Mandela, making the meager accent, patted down-gray hair and paced speaking style fall somewhat flat. Luckily, his inspired character’s capacity to speak in succinct aphorisms allowed Freeman to convey the necessary conviction and emotion to inspire.

The Clint Eastwood-directed film, blunt in its symbolism and understated in its idealism (as most of Eastwood’s films are), is driven by Mandela’s use of the South African rugby team as a symbol of his message of unity. With South Africa hosting the 1995 Rugby World Cup, Mandela reaches out to the faltering team’s captain, François Pienaar, played by Matt Damon, to help him rally the entire nation around their prospective run at the World Cup, which, of course, they win in a dramatic conclusion.

Through the course of the World Cup, the mending of the racial divide is further exemplified by the evolution of the relationship between Mandela’s white bodyguards, who had enforced the policy of segregation under the apartheid government, and the black bodyguards, who warm up to the game of rugby, as well as their new comrades.

Francois plays professional rugby for the Springboks and is from a close-knit, upper class white family. His father is one example of those pessimistic about the changes Mandela’s presidency might force. Although Francois’s actions and agreeable nature suggest he doesn’t share those sentiments, he is a man of few words and, as such, never articulates a position – although Damon articulates his character’s accent with charm and authority. Mandela, on the other hand, is a politician and, as a result of the persecution he suffered for the political stances he took, is separated from his family, a subject too sensitive for anyone around him to broach, not for fear of reprimand, but of hurting the weary man behind the shrewd mind and iconic persona.

However, the quality they share most is one that defines their colloquial relationship, which is leading by example. Mandela does this by leading without fear of losing political support from loyalists in his own movement, and Francois, by tirelessly preparing himself and his team for their brutal sport, around which the plot’s climax is designed. The inherent tension of each collision and tackle captured in each game of the World Cup, brilliantly recreated for the silver screen, personifies the intensity of the uphill fight South Africa faces as a nation.

The sport itself is a fit sub plot to run parallel with that struggle because the distinctly European game challenges the black population, such as Mandela’s loyalist bodyguards, to understand it since it has become their beloved leader’s rallying cry. Rugby also turns into Mandela’s own personal obsession, as his top aide suggests at one point.

Eastwood’s overseeing hand can be felt in several abrupt transitions in the film, some appropriate and some not. However, they mirror the general character of the film, which says what it means and means what it says, while letting the subtleties find their own way into the larger context of post-apartheid South Africa. Eastwood concerns himself almost entirely with the small stuff by delivering the big ideas in small doses.