The Last King of Scotland.

I love Oscar Season, in case you can't tell, and usually by now I would have posted regarding the nominations (No Dreamgirls? Alas, that's alright, we genuflect before the spirit of Michael Bennet and move on...but not until after recounting this hilarious story about my friend who went to see Dreamgirls without realizing it was a musical, and then she was extremely confused when Jamie Foxx started singing in the street, oh my silly friends) but in all honesty I haven't seen enough of the films to be able to write in a knowledgeable manner. I am trying to remedy that, however, and in so doing I have resigned myself to the fact that every single movie I will see from now until February 25th will be depressing and violent.
In that vein...Thursday night, I saw The Last King of Scotland. I got it out of the way quickly because I knew I would chicken out otherwise. Manohla Dargis of the NYTimes verified the film's R-rating by essentially stating that the film was filled with strong violence and a included particularly graphic, realistic torture scene. Manohla, sister, you ain't kidding. So I sucked it up, and went to the film, and when I emerged the friend with whom I saw the film asked me if I was all right. After taking stock of myself I realized that I was trembling. So I went to the ladies room, splashed some water on my face...and spent much of the rest of the night and morning thinking about the film.
Trembling! I realize, in hindsight, that it was because the film--essentially billed as a historical fiction/biography--is really a horror movie in tone, plot, and pacing. And how appropriate to tell the story of Idi Amin Dada through the horror genre. My knowledge of Africa comes almost entirely from a class I took on modern African drama, but Idi Amin Dada stands out in my mind because he was such a dramatic figure--Shakespearean in proportions, epic in size and demeanor. Horror is, perhaps, the most gratuitously dramatic genre. Fitting.
The film doesn't have the beauty of Children of Men (did I mention y'all should see it?) but it does capture the color and life of Africa--that magnificent African cake, as the European countries called it when they carved it into itty bitty pieces in the 1800s. It also doesn't attempt to be intellectually edifying or offer much historical commentary or explanation. But that is fine--it is a horror movie.
James McAvoy, as the archetypal white man venturing into the heart of darkness, is fantastic. He plays a Scottish doctor named Nicholas Garrigan who becomes entangled with Amin, and his naivete is at first charming, then alarming, and ultimately disgusting. His wide-eyed innocence, his boyish charm seems so utterly forced that it is clear he is willingly blinding himself to what is happening. Among other things, the lighting in the film shows this gloriously. About halfway through the film, Garrigan's face is always partially in shadow during his discussions with Amin. It is the visible depiction of the splitting of his conscience, the darkening of his soul, his pitiful attempts to fit into Africa, to create of himself something "real." And this reality, this utter lack of awareness of reality, is ultimately Garrigan's downfall.
And Forest Whitaker--who I love, mind you. His performance in The Crying Game is my favorite part of that movie--is magnificent. A bipolar giant, in turns charming and terrifying, monumental and spitting and the embodiment of megalomaniacal corruption, self-idolization, hubris. Shakespearean. Historic. Quite unbelievably monstrous.
But still, the film was a horror film. It builds its suspense slowly, and culminates in several scenes of shocking violence and one particularly terrifying torture scene which could have been pulled from, say, Eli Roth's Hostel. My one major problem with this section of the movie was the music, which was a blaring brass reminiscent of the more climactic scenes of Silence of the Lambs...except not quite as effective, because it came out of nowhere and was far too conspicuous.
See this film for the performances...but don't expect historical clarification. The film is entertaining (yes, in a way it is shameful to admit it) in the way that people find violence entertaining...but the director does not make any comment on this. So we watch, and we realize we are essentially watching a horror film, and we are shocked, and we are entertained...and so where does that leave us?