Dating back to the birth of feature filmmaking, the epic form has been reserved for subjects bearing special importance. Just what is considered special, of course, varies over the years and across cultural lines. Religious narratives have tended to dominate, from Cecil B. DeMille's King of Kings (1927) through the mid-century sword and sandal fad, to contemporary examples like Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ (2004).
Other films set in antiquity may retain the epic label without being overtly religious, such as Intolerance (D.W. Griffith, 1916) and Gladiator (Ridley Scott, 2000). War epics (too countless to name) and large scale romantic dramas round out the field, often appearing in combination with one another to supply a film touted to have it all. These ambitious endeavors, usually high risk/high reward proposals, meet with varying degrees of success as the epic filmmaking tradition continues on.
Che's Place Among Giants
To call Che an epic demands a moment of thought about how such a precarious distinction should be applied. Superficial elements (budget, running time) are among the most widely used metrics, but more difficult to measure are the thematic scope and dramatic gravity that allow so many of the great epics to stay relevant and watchable.
Che is epic on both counts. Packaged as a single film (the format favored by Soderbergh for festival screenings, although a two-part theatrical release is imminent) Che clocks in at just under five hours. Arriving with the tagline “A Revolutionary Life”, it is the filmmakers' relentless focus on Che Guevara, the man, that solidifies its epic status. The intention appears to be depth (of subject) rather than breadth (of history).
Epic Identity Crisis
Rather than charting a chronology of Latin American revolution, the film uses Guevara as a starting point for a contemplation of the purpose of revolution in society. It is in this direction that it begins to confuse its own epic ambitions. Seemingly worthy people and events (Fidel Castro, the Bay of Pigs invasion) are relegated to the narrative background.
Guevara is hardly the bombastic figure that could be expected to dominate the popular imagination for very long. Instead he is painted as thoughtful, patient, and diligent; virtues, to be sure, but not the qualities perhaps best suited for the epic form. With little internal conflict, viewers are asked to extend automatic sympathy and admiration.
Why Epic?
When viewed from a distance, Che has the appearance of an intimate portrait of an important figure stretched across a storytelling structure that is much too large for it. Were it a chronicle of the Cuban and Bolivian revolutions, the epic form might be justified. Likewise, the character portrait that emerges from Benicio Del Toro's commendable performance could be more easily appreciated in a modest production. Instead, an uneasy synthesis produces an awkward piece of cinema.
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