Directed by Olivier Assayas. 319 minutes or 165 minutes, depending on which version you see. Starring Edgar Ramirez, Juana Acosta, Alexander Scheer and Nora von Waldstatten. Released by IFC Films.
Olivier Assayas has long been molding his career into one of the most interesting in recent French cinema’s history. He’s done the costume piece (Les Destinees), a character drama (Summer Hours), the noirish, postmodern thriller (Demonlover), the druggie drama (Clean), etc. etc. But Carlos, a drama of epic proportions no matter whether you see it in its five-hour-plus entirety or even in the condensed, slightly choppy version that clocks in under three hours, is the director’s most expansive film yet and not just in its running time. Assayas has taken Steven Soderbergh’s approach toward Che Guevara and focused not so much on his revolutionary rock star’s psyche, but rather his personality and aura. Yet if Soderbergh was aiming at a documentary-style film with Che, Assayas has modeled his more after Martin Scorsese’s work in Goodfellas. Assayas’s film moves along like a bullet train.
As the film opens, a car blows up (a nod to Scorsese’s Casino, perhaps?). We meet Ilich (Edgar Ramirez) before he is Carlos. He is vying to lead an operation for the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, a terrorist organization that seems to have drawn the worst of the Middle East and Europe. Its operatives, often adorned in leather coats and stylish garb, hail everywhere from Germany to Yemen and, in the case of Ilich, Venezuela. Several minutes into the picture, the titular figure stands naked in front of a mirror, admiring himself. But it is a certain part of his physique seen on display that will betray him some five hours later into the film.
For those not in the know, Carlos was an all-star in the world of terrorism. The film’s piece de resistance is an extended sequence detailing a famous bombarding of an OVEC meeting, during which he and his crew took the oil ministers of virtually the entire Middle East hostage and then carried them on a plane from Austria to Algiers to Libya and back. Despite his willingness to commit atrocious acts of violence and kill without mercy, the scene becomes all the more fascinating once we realize that Carlos is, perhaps, the least dangerous of the terrorists.
Later dubbed “Carlos the Jackal,” Ilich is a fascinating walking contradiction. At once decrying the capitalist state, Carlos also shows up adorned in sporty clothes, a trendy beret and, at one point scene in close-up, a fancy watch. His desire to overturn the system appears to pale in comparison to his creation of a persona. One of the film’s most telling scenes is when the Popular Front’s leader scolds him from accepting two million dollars from the Saudis rather than completing the hijacking’s mission that would have resulted in a bloodbath.
Edgar Ramirez fully commits himself to his role. He doesn’t try to make Carlos likable, but his portrayal is always riveting. Equally fascinating is watching a character whose true identity is shrouded behind the celebrity image that he attempts to craft. The supporting cast is equally terrific.
Of course, Carlos will be noted for its noteworthiness, its timeliness. But this is not a War on Terror film by any means. Saddam Hussein’s name gets dropped and Carlos’s allies are mostly bearded men who want the United States to stop interfering in Middle Eastern affairs. This is 1975, by the way. Its parallels to our current situation are obvious, but Carlos is not so much a political film as it is the portrayal of a massive ego. It is this ego, however, that dominates the screen for five hours and captivates us and directed by a filmmaker at the top of his powers who is completely in control of his subject. It’s a riveting film.