Invictus

We really didn't want to see Invictus. We both had such clear (and good) memories of the 95 Rugby World Cup, and we feared the Hollywoodization of it. The tagline "His people needed a leader. He gave them a champion" did nothing to encourage us.

But people KEPT on asking us if we'd seen it, and our curiosity finally outweighed our objections and we rented it. We decided to give it the "20 minute test": we gave ourselves permission to stop watching if we didn't like it after that time.

Well, it took 10 seconds and I was hooked. Watching Invictus was like a catapult back in time for me. All of a sudden I was in Standard 7 (9th grade) again, watching Nelson Mandela being released from prison. The cars were familiar. The voices were familiar. I almost felt I should be scanning the crowds for familiar faces. February 11, 1990.

So let me say up front that this is not a movie crit. I CANNOT crit this movie. The movie was all about memories for me. They took their training jog in the neighborhood I lived in in Cape Town, down streets I have walked and driven on. They walked on bridges I've crossed. They drove cars I've driven. Many of the scenes on that movie were places with particular memories for me: we drove up to the Union Buildings (the parliamentary buildings in the movie where Francois Pienaar first meets Mandela) on the night of our matric dance (senior prom). The first rugby stadium they showed where Madiba greets a hostile crowd waving flags from the Old South Africa is Loftus Versveld - which shares a wall with my High School. The pub where, in the movie, the team goes to celebrate their first victory in the RWC is Ferrymans - the site of my only date with the cute doctor who used to live upstairs from me. Everything. Everything. Everything brought back memories: the banners in the stadium for Lion Lager, FNB (I always noticed that because my Mom worked for them at the time), for United Bank (which no longer exists)... I even wiped away a tear when they showed Elwierda buses taking the team into the townships for coaching clinics. Elwierda buses. Wow.

I am not a sports fan, but I remember that world cup with incredible clarity. I was in my 2nd year at the University of Cape Town. I remember the debacle about whether the Springboks would keep their name and colors. I remember feeling so ashamed when, at the beginning of matches, the cameras would pan over the team who would not sing or mumble the "Nkosi Sikelel iAfrika" part, and then belt out "Die Stem" in Afrikaans. I remember feeling relieved, when, by the final match they had finally learned the whole anthem.

I watched the final with about 60 other girls in my residence, and I remember being THRILLED when Nelson Mandela walked onto the field wearing a number 6 rugby jersey. I felt so excited about the New South Africa, so proud to be a part of history, so thankful at his gesture. The match was riveting, and when Joel Stransky kicked that final drop kick I think I screamed a Beatles-hysteria-type scream. We hit the streets and danced and danced for hours.

Watching the movie, we had it on so loud and got so worked up that we actually woke BOTH our children up with our cheering. We then sheepishly put them back to sleep and watched the final 10 minutes in hushed tones - but still with goosebumps.

So what to say of this movie? I think Clint Eastwood did an incredible job. The attention to detail was incredible. Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon's accents and impersonations were marvelous. I think they did an admirable job of characterizing the mood of 1995: optimistic, but cautious since there were many unknowns and a multitude of challenges. It was a little strange to be watching the movie in English when they were really representing the Afrikaans white culture of South Africa, but the obstacle was not insurmountable.

With respect to the historicity of the script: while I don't know what happened behind closed doors, the characterization of Mandela fits every description I've ever heard of him from those who met him: gracious, encouraging, a servant leader if there ever was one - and a truly great man. It turns out that it is true that Pienaar and Mandela met at the Union Buildings, and that Madiba gave Pienaar a poem before the RWC. The poem, however, was not Invictus, but in fact a quote from Theodore Roosevelt called "The man in the Arena". It reads as follows:

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

It's a pity they substituted the title and poem "invictus" for "the man in the arena". I think the true quote would have been so much clearer and compelling, and the title "the man in the arena" would have worked to hint at both Madiba and Pienaar's roles.

I loved it. But I have no idea whether it was a good film or not. I just loved being teleported 15 years back in time. I felt 18, and full of wonder and hope and adrenalin all over again. Thanks, Clint Eastwood. I needed that.