How do you tell the story of the man who just might be the most enigmatic person to have lived in the last century? Olivier Assayas’s three-part series Carlos attempts to do just that, tracing the life of the notoriously invisible terrorist Ilich Ramirez Sanchez, aka Carlos, aka 'The Jackal', over two decades where his work involved high-profile politicians around the world. But to have any semblance of a narrative the director had to take many creative liberties to fill in the many blanks that remain, and there are a lot of them. How could it be otherwise? After all, the entire basis of his success came from his ability to avoid the public eye and identification for decades, and the extreme measures he took to cover his tracks. As a result, Carlos is as much a history lesson as it is a work of fiction, but a fascinating one at that.
For those unfamiliar with the legacy of 'The Jackal', the man had acted in many revolutions and bombings before anyone took notice of him as a singular force acting on the behalf on different movements. It wasn’t until he stormed into the 1975 OPEC conference in Vienna that authorities could identify Carlos himself and when that happened, his life as fugitive began. So begins the legend of the terrorist who wouldn’t be apprehended until 1994, 19 years later. In that time, he created an atmosphere of fear: that at anytime, anywhere you could go from alive to dead in the blink of a car bomb or the flash of a muzzle. It’s the entire basis of terrorism and Carlos was quite good at what he did, and Assayas creates a superb portrait of a mind that seemed to have an uncanny grasp of how to plan the perfect strike – even if his advice sometimes went unheeded.
While the countless personal interactions between Carlos and everyone he came into contact with in the span of his career, from his rise to infamy to his eventual capture in the Sudan, are almost entirely improvised by the writing team of Assayas and Franck to fill in the characterizations of Carlos as both a believer in the futility of organized protest and the inevitability of violence as the means to change. The idea that these conversations are fictional leaves a bit to be argued as to whether it adds to the authenticity or if it’s just expository dialogue added to get the audience onboard with how Carlos came to be the man he is. If the conversations with clients that lead to his violent acts, or the acts themselves, aren’t enough to clue us in to Carlos’s belief system, then what is? Those pieces of dialogue feel like prods to make sure the audience is on the same page and for all the depth they add to Carlos they slow down the film of a life lived quickly and with careful deliberation.
Edgar Ramirez deserves credit for steering this five-hour behemoth with unflinching conviction to the role. He never cheapens the film by playing Carlos as moustache-twirling villain or a menace for the sake of chaos. Carlos killed people for money and political statements, but he was still a human being and Ramirez and Assayaz kept that in mind, giving us a characterization that embraces his humanity and all the vices that come with it.
Carlos is one of The Criterion Collection’s most recent acquisitions having just debuted in 2010 on France’s television channel Canal+, and so it stands to reason that as a Blu-ray transfer it’s easily one of the most crisp and stunning you’ll find. Assayas paints an interesting portrait of Carlos, but just as important is what he puts in the background and that choice makes the visuals of the film rich with a slightly washed out color keeping in line with the video styles of the 80s and 90s. The audio on the film is an interesting factor because the story goes that Assayas had a soundtrack comprised almost entirely of music by a band that later objected to being the composers of a score for a film about terrorism. A bit simplistic and shortsighted in a lot of ways, but it forced the director to rethink the audio aesthetic of the film and the result is a detached sort of New Wave sound that feels perfect and somewhat unsettling.
Ultimately, Carlos is an entirely engrossing, fast-paced cinematic experience that gives audiences little time to catch their breath. It clips along steadily and never misses a beat, even when indulging in exposition. If there’s a right way to immortalize a terrorist in film, Carlos is it.
Blu-ray Bonus Features
As with all Criterion Collection releases Carlos includes a booklet that includes essays concerning the film and its subject, and information about the cast and crew. The first essay is film critic Colin McCabe’s “Sudden Death” about the culture of fear Carlos reflects. The second is critic Greil Marcus discussing how the film developed organically with Assayas and the actors feeling out the route as they went along. Finally a very useful history of what is currently known about Carlos and his acts has been written up by the film’s historical adviser, Stephen Smith.
The extras on the disc only improve on the set’s offering with a production featurette giving insight into the creation of the pivotal OPEC scene, and then a huge collection of historical pieces, many based on archival footage, outlining Carlos’s career as told through documentaries and interviews with key individuals. In relation to the film, there are interviews with Assayas, Ramirez, and cinematographer Denis Lenoir as they discuss how they hit upon the right portrayal of Ilich Ramirez Sanchez and how best to frame his deeds. For fans of audio commentaries, you’ll be a bit let down by the lack of complete coverage of each episode, but there are some for select scenes throughout the three entries.
"Carlos (The Criterion Collection)" is on sale September 27, 2011 and is not rated. Action, Drama. Directed by Olivier Assayas . Written by Olivier Assayas, Dan Franck, Daniel Leconte. Starring Edgar Ramirez, Alexander Scheer, Nora Von Waldstatten.
