Invictus Review: Go For The… Goal?

Take one part Ghandi, one part Remember The Titans, shake well, and you get Invictus, director Clint Eastwood’s latest triumph to cap off what has been quite the decade for the venerable old powerhouse. Invictus tells the remarkable true story of the early years of Nelson Mandela’s South African presidency and how he used the surprising tool of national rugby to begin healing the deep scars of the racist apartheid government that kept him in jail for 27 years.

Morgan Freeman absolutely owns this movie and gives a performance that, for brief moments, practically transcends acting. Morgan disappears, and Nelson shines through. Matt Damon gives a similarly dynamic performance as Francois Pienaar, captain of the South African rugby team. They aren’t very good, and their very existence is rooted against by the black population who see them as little more than a symbol of past oppression. Except for Chester, the one black member of the team. Chester’s cool.

When Mandela takes office, he makes awe inspiringly transcendent and peaceful strides to neither wipe clean the slate of white government nor move on as if nothing has changed, but rather respect the existing institutions while taking a nuanced approach to reintegrating African rights and customs. One of his more curious seeming moves? Preventing the newly black sports commission from changing the rugby team’s hated colors and symbology. By confronting Peinaar and encouraging the team to reach out to black youth (and try really really hard to win the upcoming South Africa hosted 1995 Rugby World Cup) Mandela tries to unite both colors of his people.

I didn’t know much about rugby going into this movie, and I don’t exactly comprehend too much more about it now, so it’s not the film’s fault that I sometimes felt disconnected from the excellently staged match scenes and what I’m sure to many would have been “bases loaded, full-count, bottom of the 9th” type suspense, but left me going “wait… how many points would this kick give them? And how much time is left on the clock?” a dash of rules exposition might have been nice. My one random but persistently irritating technical complaint would be that not always, but sometimes, I could totally tell the crowds were CGI. Almost like grizzled old Clint went “gah, if we’ve gotta use those damn computers, make it quick and don’t spend a lot of money”. But that’s ultimately a small potatoes complaint and Invictus remains, while not necessarily among the best sports movies or history movies ever, a stirring portrayal of a country striving to become a better version of itself and the man who had the courage to guide it.

Want a second Poptimal opinion read Intelligent, Impeccable, Illuminating Invictus By Alyssa Martino.