James 007 Bond has a license to kill, most people need a different sort of license to go fishing, and anyone who wants to drive needs, appropriately enough, a driver's license. Storytellers -- be they novelists, TV writers, or filmmakers -- get another sort for their line of work, and that's known as artistic license. It allows them to bend the truth, stretch the facts, and/or fabricate things and people that never happened or existed, all in order to further serve their story and/or make it more appealing or entertaining to their readers or viewers.
It's pretty much been done since the first person told the first story, and is common today, even in stories based on historical fact. The latest such film to make full use of its artistic license is "The Last King of Scotland," a part historical, part fictional look at Ugandan dictator Idi Amin Dada.
The real part focuses on the charismatic and even outlandish general who staged a military coup in his country in 1971, promising all sorts of sweeping reform for his fellow compatriots. However, as time passed on, the dictator became increasingly paranoid and started a systematic extermination of his people (with some estimates going into the hundreds of thousands).
It's a fascinating story and he was a mesmerizing if evil person, all of which Forrest Whitaker perfectly captures in what has to be a lock for nominations if not wins come end-of-the-year awards time. While the transformation from seemingly "good guy" to paranoid and murderous thug happens a bit too quickly in the film, Whitaker's performance is spot in as he disappears into the role, brilliantly playing both sides of the man (the title comes from one of Amin's famous self-proclamation).
Not particularly paying attention to the "inspired by" rather than "based on" descriptor at the film's start, I figured most of the tale was based on some semblance of fact. While some is (see above), the fictional part revolves around what turns out to be the story's main protagonist, a naive but idealistic Scottish doctor (played by James McAvoy) who becomes Amin's personal physician and then closest advisor.
Without realizing the massive artistic license at play, I bought into this character's story, at least until things started getting ever more preposterous. Working from Giles Foden's novel, screenwriters Peter Morgan and Jeremy Brock utilize the old power corrupts theme throughout the story, and it's easy to believe a naive outsider could get wrapped up in the power play at hand.
Yet -- and despite them setting up the doc as a sexual opportunist (he has sex with a local woman he meets on the bus and then wants to bed the wife of a doctor with whom he's working -- played by Gillian "X-Files" Anderson) -- the character is too naive about going after the dictator's wife. While that plot development is all too predictable, it still isn't believable (although, apparently, the outcome of such an affair did have similarly gruesome results) as the film quickly segues from compelling drama to outlandish thriller.
It's also a bit difficult to buy into the notion that a cunning military leader would suddenly tap a Scottish doctor as his closest personal advisor on all matters of state, but the film's bigger problem is that it once again tells a black people's story through a white man's eyes and experience. There are hundreds if not thousands of Ugandan stories to tell about this period in their history, but outside of Amin, only a handful (including Kerry Washington as the aforementioned wife) get more than a few passing moments.
Of course, some could say the same about any number of films, such as the Civil War epic "Glory." Yet, the white protagonist there was key since he was one of the first to lead an all-black regiment and had his eyes opened by his interaction with them. A different sort of eye opening occurs here, not to mention a symbolic, near crucifixion that shortchanges the plight of those hundreds of thousands of murdered and missing Ugandans by focusing the pain on the white character.
Then again, that's where that artistic license comes into play. Featuring a terrific performance by Whitaker and a decent first half, the film loses some of its dramatic punch when director Kevin MacDonald (making his feature debut after helming several documentaries) and his crew take a detour down the path of preposterous thrillers. "The Last King of Scotland" rates as a 6 out of 10.
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