Traditionally it is the Makeda that is fanatical about film, a black face or two in an acclaimed movie and she is doubly excited.
So it was odd that I was the one taken by the posters of a stunning Kerry Washington and an imposing Forest Whittaker in the role of Idi Amin Dada in. Western film has spent almost the entirety of its existence in derisory consideration of the developing world; painting caricatures and pushing stereotypes; constantly conjuring up pictures of exotic peoples cohabiting with nature, genial natives with not a care in the world or brutal savages with no conception of law. The pre-release spin on this movie declared that this movie would depart from the clichés and address the legend of Amin anew. Perhaps more powerfully than any other such motif of Third World backwardness, especially with regard to Africa has been the character of Idi Amin. He has borne the brunt of the obsession, transmitted from the news reel to the cinema screen, with the despotic black leader. A gigantic, fearless and comical man Amin presents one of the twentieth century's most compelling stories and one of its most telegenic villains; a veritable celluloid wet dream. For these reasons then, it is the oddest thing that a director as talented as Kevin MacDonald would issue such a pathetic rendering of this Amin's fifth biography, the last in a long line that stretches as far back as Schroeder's farcical 1976 self-portrait, General Idi Amin Dada.
In MacDonald's defence trying to walk the line between continuing with the stereotypes and trying to give an honest account of the life of the former Ugandan dictator was never going to be an easy task. Previous takers have swerved dangerously between giving Amin the director's seat (Schroeder) and completely demonising him (Sharad Patel). MacDonald and his cast- especially Whittaker- was determined to do right by Uganda, and Amin's family with whose cooperation the movie was made.  But all these are mere extenuations, the last King of Scotland is as limp and tepid a production as you are likely to see. It fails completely to take into account the true nature of Uganda under Amin or of the forces that created the man and his campaign of terror. For sure an attempt is made, Amin makes a passing reference to his time as a KAR man in colonial Kenya battling the Mau Mau, and an allusion is made to British machinations that resulted in Amin's ouster of his predecessor Milton Obote. Unlike Sharad's movie this one is lacking in gore and the cruel Amin gets through the movie without ever once being witnessing a murder. This distance and the explanations for it lend to an image of Amin as a misunderstood leader, one operating out of a place in time when as James McAvoy's character explains, `This is Africa. You meet violence with violence. Anything less and you're dead!" Only the most cursory mention is made of the mass killings of his opposition, the destruction of the judiciary and treasury or of his predatory designs on Kenya and Tanzania. With all this tinkering about, it is saddest that the movie falls on its sword with regard to an improbable account, a desperate attempt by the director to create a female role and a love story. He tries hard, allowing the young doctor the obligatory welcome shag with a local girl only hours after stepping onto Ugandan soil. The stirrings of an affair with his mission doctor boss' follow next, before the director settles bizarrely for an affair between him and Amin's youngest wife Kay. For me what the movie captured best, and what is most relevant to us today, is the scene when the young McAvoy first meets Amin. The setting is a market place, a few days after Amin has taken over having forcefully replaced Milton Obote. The crowd roars in approval as Amin expresses a heartfelt solidarity with their plight, promising them 'a new day has come'. Likewise today, especially this election year, many charismatic champions will promise; and cast a spell over us like Amin did over Uganda. So early in his rule, the writing was already on the wall, his endless press conferences, the way he ate up the spotlight and the buffoonish manner in which he charmed his way into everyone's heart, so innocuous in the film, and yet so dangerously real. Even in his death, he manages to guide the camera, like he did in that first movie 35 years ago, away from his atrocities and to an appreciation for his eccentricity. The intrepid may indulge themselves here, click on the links to watch the movie.
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While movies like The Constant Gardener, Lord of War, and Blood Diamond have raised great issues affecting Africa, The Last King of Scotland offers nothing.
That all the movies have Western actors at the center (I don't buy that black lead actor crap) is problematic. People in the West love such movies because they reinforce the misconceptions they have about that small war-prone country named Africa.
The Last King of Scotland wins, though, because it's based on a true story, but has a made-up character -- the Scottish doctor -- to prove that white people can get out of anything. Forest Whitaker, who I think is a genius on any set, has been fooled here to think he has a leading role.
Our governments are also too greedy and quick to issue shooting permits without gauging the cultural consequences. I'm curious to know how much African countries make from such movies. I won't be surprised to know that all Uganda got was a Forest Whitaker visit to a school. :D