The first 45 minutes of The Motorcycle Diaries is about two con-artists who bicker constantly, crash their motorcycle and try to bed literally every female they see as they travel through South America. Then the motorcycle gets scrapped, but the movie rambles on for another hour and 15 minutes.
I’ve never read the book of the same name, written by Ernesto “Che” Guevara, upon which the movie is based. Although you learn little about him from the movie, I suppose I know as much about Che as the average American Joe. He acted on his strong convictions by attempting to bring about what he felt was just wherever he went. Personally, I am too jaded and thorough of a thinker to presume I have any answers or know what justice is, and care about my life too much to sacrifice it for what would likely be a futile and misguided cause.
Che’s likeness on t-shirts does prove useful in exposing posers who exhort him as an influence but don’t do shit.
1 comment:
Yeah, but you gotta admit Gabriel Garcia Bernal is hot.
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