‘Carlos:’ The life of a terrorist in 5.5 hours

The first three minutes of “Carlos”—replete with a pair of naked breasts, fast-changing scenes, and multiple European languages—immediately set the tone of the biopic detailing the life of terrorist Carlos the Jackal. That leaves a mere 327 minutes to savor the bomb plots, fast women, powerful political figures, and stunning landscapes that make up Carlos’ roller-coaster lifestyle.

Fortunately, there is a shorter version of director Olivier Assayas’ epic available, at a paltry 165 minutes, showing at Lincoln Plaza Cinemas starting today. However, for those Columbians who are hardcore enough to take up the challenge, the unabridged version will be showing at the IFC Center for the next week, with special appearances by the director at both cinemas.

Despite the dauntingly lengthy running time, “Carlos” is a thrilling experience. Édgar Ramírez, who portrays the Latin-American playboy, is physically the stereotypical alpha male, and he’s wonderfully adept at acting like one. At times, he is simply mesmerizing, especially when Carlos enters one of his famous rages—his animalistic wrath seems to transcend the screen, truly befitting his epithet.

For Columbians unfamiliar with Carlos the Jackal, he is a surviving, incarcerated, and prominent Venezuelan terrorist who operated mainly in Europe in the ’70s and ’80s, culminating in a bold and bloody attack on an OPEC convention in Vienna. Yet Carlos, as this movie tries to explain, is much more than a cookie-cutter ideologue. A theme throughout the film is the internal conflict between his petit-bourgeois background and his idealism, and the external contrast as his warm South-American lifestyle, complete with exotic Latin music jam sessions and flowery wallpaper and interiors, demarcate him from the surrounding drab world of Europe.

One of the downsides to the film is a conspicuous lack of exploration of Carlos’ motives—why would a Venezuelan feel so strongly about Palestine, to the point of terrorism? But, of course, this could be due to the fact that Carlos is still alive and ready to contradict any possible wrong interpretation.
Indeed, the viewers are reminded of the existence of Carlos and the actual events behind the fictionalized film by sporadic footage of interviews with actual witnesses and coverage of some of his attacks. These complement the poignant scenes that portray the incidents in full detail.

Despite these horrors, viewers inevitably begin to develop an attachment to this inherently immoral character, to the point that they might actually feel sympathy when Carlos becomes an unemployed terrorist—such is the extent to which the film normalizes terrorism. The movie also raises some interesting questions: What is the social convention between two terrorists? How does one greet a fellow terrorist? How does a fashion-conscious terrorist dress?

But Assayas’ masterpiece does have its flaws. The special effects are at times reminiscent of a 1990s video game, and the modern rock-heavy soundtrack often seems incongruous and anachronistic with the events occurring.

Yet, as the credits roll, the audience feels a sense of having experienced something epic, both in length and in content. While there were more than a few sighs of relief by the end of “Carlos,” these were mostly from the feeling of accomplishment for completing such a raucous journey with a truly remarkable man—monstrous jackal or not.