It’s in films like The Last King of Scotland where we see the cinema’s real power.  The power of truth.  It isn’t easy to quantify.  It’s hard to prove a thing’s authenticity.  It either is or it isn’t authentic.  It either does or does not speak truthfully.  The simplest way for me to tell is in the arguments.  Truth speaks for itself and doesn’t need to defend against.  On the other hand, the harder someone needs to defend, the more cleverness required, is usually an indication of falsehood.  Because if the cleverness is not used, there is no substance and it’s evident.  So the rhetoric and guile is needed to mask what isn’t.  Get all that?  Me neither.

Forest Whitaker and James McAvoy in The Last King of Scotland.
Image courtesy Fox Searchlight Studios

It’s hard for me to expound on why films such as The Last King of Scotland are so good.  Because there is nothing that I can think of that does justice to the film.  Nothing that comes to mind.  Nothing that says, “Oh, if I don’t tell them this, they won’t believe me.”  Because, the movie speaks for itself.  In short, it’s not about praise, because the message is too far above something as petty as praise.  The Last King of Scotland just moves.  You just have to watch it to understand my silence.

The film is about Idi Amin’s (Forrest Whitaker) murderous regime in 1970s Uganda.  It clearly takes license in its history, but its fictionalized version still holds true.  James McAvoy plays Amin’s personal physician, Dr. Nicholas Garrigan, and the film follows his path from medical school in Scotland to becoming an advisor to Amin in Uganda.

First, a word about the production. It was astounding.  Every last bit of it.  It was quality enough to exist for itself, but mild enough to remain a mere backdrop for the story.  The photography was phenomenal and made it easy to accept the time period.

James McAvoy was wonderful and carried the movie surprisingly well.  He was, fortunately or unfortunately, overshadowed by Forest Whitaker.  Whitaker, as Amin, reminded me of the difficult tasks we often face on a regular basis.  No, I don’t mean that we face crazy, murderous dictators after coffee every morning.  Well, sometimes.  What I mean is that, as Whitaker showed, Amin is a caricature of the type of people we deal with regularly.  I’ll give an example.

I worked with this guy once.  We hit it off immediately.  We went to the same school.  Had the same interests.  Laughed at the same stupid jokes.  Great guy.  Very kind and generous and we shared so many of the same values.  Then, I found out that he was like the biggest bigot I knew.  I was completely blind-sided.  He railed against homosexuals, African-Americans, Hispanics, you name it.  The funny thing is, however, that he never treated anyone he encountered with any ill-effect.  Always helped out where he could.  It was strange.  He could feel and think and act one way, but also be something else entirely.

Then I am reminded of the recent Obama/Wright scandal.  If you aren’t aware of it, here’s the breakdown: Democratic Party Presidential Nominee Senator Barack Obama was mosey-ing on down along the campaign trail when these mysterious videos of a minister surfaced.  The videos supposedly (I never actually bothered to watch them) showed this minister sermonizing and making controversial and hateful statements about white America or something or other.  The minister’s name is Jeremiah Wright, a pastor for Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago.  The same church, it seemed, that Senator Obama had attended for some twenty years.  Uh-oh.  Can you say, “conflict of interest?”

Long story short, Obama was forced for political reasons, to distance himself from Wright.  For some reason, presidential candidates can’t be known to associate with perceived racists or anti-government types.  What came out of this, though, was a dialogue.  Senator Obama is in the unique position to address race in a candid and reflective manner.  Others have tried, but it seems that the country is more poised to listen now than before, and without the potential repercussions of the past.  He used this position to speak of the intricate and complicated history of racism that is unique to this country. 

In his speech, Obama explains his relationship with Wright.  He recognizes the flaws of the man, but also his strengths.  He says that a person can, at the same time, be two different things.  He dares that we might know this kind of person, or be this kind of person.  And that our actions and our words must reflect this dichotomy of humanity: that we are all capable of great or terrible things.

Whitaker’s Amin is a beautiful example of this.  He is energetic and marvelously charismatic, and Garrigan is drawn into him.  Amin seems genuine and he speaks with conviction about his love for Uganda.  And Garrigan believes him.  It is not until much too late does he realize the dark side of that energy. The murders, the oppression, the lust for power. All of it.

This reminds me of a book signing I attended where the guest of honor was Orson Scott Card. During the Q&A period, he spoke about violence and segment turned to the topic of the Holocaust.  Someone made the comment that Hitler was a monster.  Card replied quickly, “No, Hitler wasn’t a monster.  He was human.  And that’s what’s really scary.”  It’s a comment that has stuck with me and will always stick with me.  It’s the simple truth. And that truth resonates in Whitaker’s performance.

That theme is really what this movie is all about. The everyday monsters we deal with, how they affect us, how we affect them. It’s also about about how sometimes, the monster is within ourselves. We are, after all, only human.

And that’s what scary.