Movie Review: Blood Diamond

This may be odd to say about a movie that shows corpses dragged behind 4x4s, depictions of children mowing people down with machine guns, and blood-spattered violence at every turn, but what I really appreciated about Blood Diamond, was its restraint. With the subject matter, it would have been entirely possible, some might even argue profitable (at least financially), to dwell on the spectacle. But it didn't. It treated the violence as the everyday common occurence that it is in this part of the world. It insinuated certain things (see previous post), but didn't feel the need to put them on the screen. Let's face it, Blood Diamond is overwhelming enough without a morbid fascination on the most gruesome potential of the human condition. And in amongst its shattered world, the other element I appreciated was its hope.

When surveying Africa from a distance, it is impossible to get a good picture. But when looking at people, at individuals, it is possible to catch a glimmer of what allows them to continue. That there is a dogged persistence that this is home, and that one day it will be better. It's just a glimmer. I don't quite understand it, because it looks pretty bleak to me, no matter how or where I look. But I sincerely appreciate it.

Leonardo di Caprio is a phenominal actor. Somehow he has managed to sidestep the fame-trap that has ensnared other men/actors into their own celebrity oblivion. Instead he continues to put forward one solid performance after another. In this case, as Danny Archer, he's almost someone I could have gone to school with in southern Africa. It's not just a convincing accent, either. It's the turn of phrase, the lingo, the swagger of power wrapped up in shifty-eyed mistrust. The more I think about what Blood Diamond has clarified in me, the more I wonder if it wasn't written specifically for me.

This whole thing is what I saw unfolding in Africa, only I never quite saw it this bad. I saw the foundations of power, layered with fear-called-respect. I saw weak, disorganised bureaucracy-called-leadership, and deep, stark lines drawn in arbitrary places. Perhaps in Vietnam movies, people could see their buddies in the characters onscreen, and that's why they've achieved their place in pop-culture prominence. In this movie, it was my turn. The systemic release from any restraint. The capability to succeed simply by being willing to do things far more ghastly than your enemies. The dazzling way a rocket leaves a weapon in the hands of a child, and blows a gaping hole in a building. It's a mesmerising video game where real people die. "TIA: this is Africa."

I think it's interesting that it ended in a rap song (violence warning: "Shine on 'Em" by Nas, a decent knock against our culture's conspicuous consumption, uses footage from the movie). Movies about the American ghetto always seem to crave escaping it, while Blood Diamond's Africa shows a more earnest desire to redeem it. (That's not just a Hollywood contrivance, either. It resonates with experience, and people I know.) The connection between African and African-American seems somewhat incongruous to me, and I think that this example of hip-hop is the first instance of pop culture I've experienced that actually scratched that itch. There is suddenly a recognition that the cultures are connected, and in a very real sense the latter has subjugated the former. Hopefully that will gain some traction and new relevance in macho-infused black culture on both sides of the ocean. ''In America, it's bling bling. Out here it's bling bang,''