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December 2004
Volume 18,
Number 12

The Motorcycle Diaries directed by Walter Salles. Focus Films, 2004, 126 minutes.


Ernesto Goes to Peru

by Jo Ann Skousen

"Life is just school, vacation, school, vacation, and then it's work, work, work till you die."
— C. S. Lewis

Jo Ann Skousen is a writer and critic who lives in New York.

Somewhere between school and work, American students often take one last unfettered vacation, comprising several weeks of backpacking through Europe, sleeping in youth hostels, eating little, and experiencing much, before returning to their middle-class roots and full-time careers. In the summer of 1952, Ernesto Guevara de la Serna (Gael Garcia Bernal), a young Argentine medical student, set off on a similar adventure around South America with his friend, biochemist Alberto Granado (Rodrigo de la Serna), before the two were scheduled to begin their duties as doctor and pharmacist in a leper colony in Peru. "The Motorcycle Diaries" is a recreation of that journey, based on the diaries and letters the two wrote during the trip.

Although the story is rather slow moving, as a film about a road trip, it's a fine piece. The filming is deliberately amateurish, almost like a home movie at times, reflecting the ramshackle nature of their trip: no money, no food, and before long, no bike. Dusty villages and dustier townspeople are portrayed with a straightforward honesty, particularly in the Peruvian leper colony where the two find work. The most majestic part of the travelogue is their arrival in Machu Picchu, where they lounge within the walls of the fabled city virtually alone, their reward for the lung-wrenching mountain climb. This is a road trip at its finest.

The most majestic part of the travelogue is their arrival in Machu Picchu, where they lounge within the walls of the fabled city virtually alone.

Ultimately, of course, this is not a film about a summer vacation, but about the birth of a revolutionary. Loading their motorcycle (dubbed with the hopeful but woefully inaccurate moniker "The Mighty One") like a pack mule, Ernesto and Alberto set out on a journey toward manhood and enlightenment. The motorcycle crashes frequently, spilling their possessions along the road until they have only the goods they can carry on their backs. This seems to symbolize Ernesto's divesting himself of his middle-class goals and values and even his mother's name; by the end of the journey, he has become simply "Che" Guevara (a name teasingly applied to him by a Chilean girl making fun of his Argentine accent). Moved by the poverty and injustice he observes throughout South America, and perhaps motivated even more by his upper-class girlfriend's rejection, he leaves the leper colony to fight for a "United America," eventually becoming a leader of the revolutions in Cuba and Bolivia, where he would be assassinated "with the approval of the CIA."

Che's politics are kept to a merciful minimum, seen only through the innocent eyes of an idealist awakened to the problem, before he has hit upon his brutal solution.

Every screening at the theater I attended was sold out opening weekend, even in the early afternoon. The closing credits were greeted with cathartic applause for Che's heroic martyrdom in bringing justice to Latin America. Ironically, this applause came from upscale Manhattanites — the sort of people Che fought to overthrow. Perhaps their enthusiasm came from the fact that we only saw the embryonic Che — the compassionate young doctor removing his rubber gloves to show the lepers he was their equal; the faithful young lover jilted by his wealthy girlfriend; the kind young man who gives his only dollars to a poor communist family. But I was nonplussed by the applause. Is it any more "just" to wrest lands and homes from the wealthy than it is to take them from the poor? Let's compare the beauty and vibrancy of pre-Che Havana with the poverty and erosion of modern Havana to judge the effectiveness of Che's revolution. As Winston Churchill once said, "The inherent vice of capitalism is the unequal sharing of blessings; the inherent virtue of socialism is the equal sharing of miseries." I'll take the injustice of capitalism over the justice of socialism any time, knowing that I have the opportunity to increase my share of the blessings by my own work and innovation. I will never favor bringing someone down to my level, just to keep us equal.

Nevertheless, "The Motorcycle Diaries" is a movie worth seeing, if only to view the mystical peak of Machu Picchu rising above the grandeur of the Quechuas' ruined city, before cruise-ship tourism made the fabled mountain hideaway as accessible as a theme park. Che's politics are kept to a merciful minimum; we observe the elitist snobbery of his girlfriend's family and the desperate plight of the poor displaced workers, but it is through the young and innocent eyes of an idealist awakened to the problem, before he has hit upon his brutal solution. It is also an opportunity to muse on how many lives might be different today if Che Guevara had decided to remain in Peru, quietly and humbly caring for the lepers he was trained to heal, instead of leading a murderous revolution in foreign lands.

© Copyright 2008, Liberty Foundation


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