THERE’S a moment in Clint Eastwood’s Invictus when South African President Nelson Mandela asks the country’s rugby captain, Francois Pienaar, if he has recovered from a recent injury.
Explaining that top sportsmen always carry a niggle, or injury, or weakness of some kind, Pienaar answers: “You never play at 100%.” Mandela nods sagely and reflects: “Ahhh. As in sport, so in life.”
And as in sport, and in life, so in the movies.
Eastwood has never been one to sit too long in his comfort zone, never afraid of a challenge. He knows when you’re out there, taking risks, you can never play at 100%.
You might not be with Clint 100% of the way through Invictus, the tale of the Springboks’ 1995 World Cup mission. But as the final stretches into extra time, and a nation sits on the edge of its destiny, you might still find it in your heart to stay behind the man, and the movie.
Director Eastwood and Oscar-nominated star Morgan Freeman are no strangers to sports films, or prisons.
Their collective CVs include boxing picture Million Dollar Baby, Eastwood starred in Escape From Alcatraz and Freeman in The Shawshank Redemption.
But you could be forgiven for thinking the two old Unforgiven pals might be strangers to the finer points of rugby union. Mandela? Not such a stretch – Freeman is a friend, and has long been linked to a biopic. But a real grasp of the inner workings of South African politics, pre- and post-apartheid, is another question.
Imagine selling the idea in Hollywood – a movie version of Mandela’s release, his election as SA President and his approach to Pienaar, before hatching the so-unbelievable-it-must-be-true cup campaign.
While we’re talking unlikely, Matt (Bourne) Damon plays Pienaar. And the sport, remember, is rugby. And the title, in case you didn’t catch it, is Invictus.
Say what?
Eastwood, though, can get unlikely movies made.
Few American legends continue to make their best pictures past the age of 79. John Ford directed his last film in 1966, at the age of 72. Scorsese’s powers seem on the wane at 67. Spielberg is still a relative youngster at 63.
Clint’s 2006 double bill of Flags Of Our Fathers and Letters From Iwo Jima was an artistic and logistical triumph, an impressive mark in the sand even by his high standards.
By the time of Changeling, his directing career had already been suitably acclaimed and garlanded. But his 1920s-set LA crime epic, a film that starts out as a short story then stalks up behind you with a hefty novel full of twists and turns and revelations, deserved more award recognition.
And with last year’s Gran Torino, the former Man With No Name continued his recent run of remarkable pictures and added another hefty brick to an already awe-inspiring honour wall.
Invictus, the septuagenarian cowboy star-turned-film-maker’s 30th feature as director, isn’t one of the great ones.
Like many Eastwood movies, it is, at times, unapologetically unsubtle, even clunky.
It might prove too “worthy”, “traditional” or “old-fashioned” to those who prefer their films a bit more “alternative”. But there are effective and affecting highlights – Mandela’s first address to his staff as President, Pienaar and the team’s visit to Robben Island – that qualify as pure cinema. And there should be no alternative to that.
Eastwood’s economic, shorthand film-making style is at its most effective in the already iconic moment when Mandela appears at the final wearing the green and gold playing shirt of the South African team.
One shot shows the President walking out of darkness, towards camera, in silhouette, then the next shot sees him emerge into the light.
Other directors may have made a bigger deal of this moment, built it up to a big reveal, music swelling and tears (probably not) welling. But for Eastwood it’s a simple trick of the light, and no more.
The rugby scenes themselves are less than completely convincing, and the black South Africans’ new-found interest in the “white man’s game” doesn’t fully excuse the frequent questions of: “What’s happening now?” or “What happens next?”
But Eastwood tackles many of the obvious traps and logistical problems head on, and crosses the gain line more often than not.
Damon, also Oscar nominated, spends much of his screen time playing rugby, or training to play rugby.
But when he is asked to show us the inner workings of Pienaar’s mind, his gradual realisation that this is no ordinary President, and this no ordinary rugby assignment, he proves more than up to the task. Like Freeman, he delivers a performance that involves much more than mastering an accent.
Tony Kgoroge also impresses as the leader of Mandela’s bodyguards, a multi-racial security team that is cleverly used as a microcosm of society at large, its concerns and changing attitudes.
And the title? Invictus is a 19th Century poem, by William Ernest Henley, read by Mandela when in prison.
Invictus means “unconquerable”. It’s the one that goes: “I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul.” And: “I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.”
And that defiant spirit might come in handy when you leave the cinema – especially if you’re a Clint fan and you feel the need to jump to the defence of the clunkiness, the lack of subtlety and the “old-fashioned” storytelling.
Because what really matters now is the next match, and that elusive search for 100%.
INVICTUS (12A) Directed by Clint Eastwood. Starring Morgan Freeman, Matt Damon, Tony Kgoroge, Adjoa Andoh. 134 minutes.