Based on former London Independent journalist John Carlin’s book Playing the Enemy: Nelson Mandela and the Game That Changed a Nation, Invictus uses the well-worn structure of the rousing sports drama to shed light on one of the most important international developments of the latter half of the 20th century. South African screenwriter Anthony Peckham (who also cowrote Michael Ritchie’s upcoming Sherlock Holmes) structures the story in immediately recognizable terms, establishing the South African Springbok national rugby team as both a perennial underdog and also an infinitely flexible metaphor for changing race relations and the vast potential of genuine forgiveness. For years the Springbok were loathed by black South Africans as a symbol of oppression, so much so that they actively rooted against the team in favor of other nations. Thus, Mandela’s using the Springbok as a platform to bring the nation together in mutual support was a key moment of forging a new national identity that could bring blacks and whites together.

Having been associated for years with various unproduced biopics about Mandela, it was only a matter of time before Morgan Freeman played the South African leader, and he lends his always memorable gravitas and sense of dignity to the role. It is hard to imagine another actor playing Mandela, although Freeman’s unique voice proves to be something of a hindrance as it always reminds us that this is Freeman-as-Mandela. As Francois Pienaar, the captain of the rugby team, Matt Damon is given a relatively uncomplicated role that he fills admirably. Although the product of a racist family (an early scene shows his father lamenting the multi-racial election as the end of life as they know it), there is never a point at which Francois is anything other than open to change, which makes his character a bit too conveniently accessible. The bond forged between him and Mandela is meant to evoke the vast potential in white/black understanding, but it comes with so little effort that it seems more preordained than earned.

The increasingly prolific Eastwood (he made nine films in the past decade, up from eight during the 1990s, seven in the 1980s, and six in the 1970s) directs the film with little fuss, even as he imbues it with a grand sense of historical awakening that comes primarily via elegant crane shots and large crowd scenes at the rugby matches. He gets his camera into the mud and blood of the competition, always reminding us that this is as much an underdog sports story as it is a history lesson, although the film is at its best in the moments of interpersonal conflict, such as when Mandela’s black bodyguards must work with the white police officers assigned to them. It is little surprise that, by the end of the film, the formerly tense relations between these groups gives way to mutual exhilaration when the Springbok are victorious over a much heralded New Zealand team that everyone thought would win the World Cup. Invictus plays up these moments of triumph as illustrations of how genuine human connection can overcome any artificially imposed barriers, and even if it sometimes simplifies the historical issues in favor of uncomplicated multiplex feel-good uplift, it’s hard not to get swept up in the joy.

Copyright ©2009 James Kendrick

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