As a character of history, Nelson Mandela is relatively bulletproof. Some people have drawn attention to his less than perfect treatment of his wife, but on the whole he comes off pretty spotless. This kind of character makes for great history, it doesn’t necessarily make for great cinema.
Invictus is well-acted. Morgan Freeman is good (though surprisingly less than brilliant) in the role he was born to play. Matt Damon shows a lot of class, even occasionally outshining the heavyweight leading man. It’s well-directed, as would be expected from Clint Eastwood, even if the cinematography is a little uninspired.
The main area where the film lacks spark is the story – it’s just not Nelson Mandela’s. The way he engineers the unification of black and white South Africa through rugby builds nicely, but halfway through it all just turns into a football movie, with occasional crosses to Nelson biting his nails. Damon’s rugby captain Francois Pienaar dominates these sections, partly because he gets more air-time, partly because he actually undergoes some kind of journey. It seems that as an ideal, and as an idol, Mandela is too sacred to be given human character flaws. The throwaway line that is the quote of this issue is the only suggestion we get of any chink in his moral armour. Instead, he’s reduced to an endless succession of rousing speeches, which lose their poignancy as they grow in number.
It’s all passable enough, but Invictus doesn’t excite and inspire as it should.
