Usually, I like a little moral ambiguity in a movie. But watching Hotel Rwanda, filmmaker Terry George's startling account of the jingoist violence that claimed 800,000 Rwandan lives in just 100 days, you feel as though you are staring into the face of human evil. That an outwardly normal society could engage in such a wanton massacre, while governments, citizens, and the media in the West turned a blind eye, should invite only disbelief.
It is tempting to compare the Rwandan chaos, involving the persecution of the region's ethnic Tutsi minority by the dominant Hutu population, to the skirmish warfare that now plagues Sudan. Still, whether George intended such a parallel is beside the point. Most importantly, Hotel Rwanda is a forthright picture of the humble heroism that is often the final salvation of a society gone berserk. George's piece may communicate too urgently a righteousness and concern that, given the nature of its subject, are easily understood. But on so many levels, it is an unquestionable success.
Plenty of the credit belongs to George, who, as both director and screenwriter, concretely presents the horror of genocide on the least sensationalized terms possible. Hotel Rwanda tells the true story of a prospering Hutu, Paul Rusesabagina (inspiringly depicted by Don Cheadle), who hides several hundred Tutsi refugees in the hotel he manages, the Mille Collines. Were it not for the cloud of apprehension that hangs over the whole movie, his tale would be not only remarkable, but uplifting.
Fortunately, the overwhelming believability that Cheadle brings to his role saves Hotel Rwanda from succumbing to melodrama. In playing Rusesabagina, he finally has a showcase for the natural elegance that, in his smaller parts, frequently goes unnoticed. As Hutu hard-liners take over the radio waves and rumors of uprising run high in Kigali, Rwanda's capital, Rusesabagina tries to hang on to the life he knows for as long as he can. Amiable and generous, his career is built on favors and connections. But he eventually discovers that people's worst impulses are not alleviated by reason, or, for that matter, bribes.
When his neighborhood is raided, Rusesabagina, his Tutsi wife Tatiana (played with a touching independence by Sophie Okonedo), and their neighbors flee to the Mille Collines, which is soon overrun by an array of refugees. As the days pass, his hopes of deliverance, from more U.N. protection to Western publicity, are dashed one by one. With lawlessness reigning outside, it takes all his pragmatism -- distributing alcohol to the Interhamwe militia, distorting hotel records, and bargaining with head Hutus -- to keep his occupants safe.
Needless to say, Hotel Rwanda calls to mind that other monumental statement on ethnic cleansing, Schindler's List. Though Spielberg's opus may be cinematically superior, there is something unreal about its alien black-and-white and desolate concentration camps. Hotel Rwanda, because it bears the stamp of modern familiarity, makes its atrocities seem frighteningly close. Even gore is unnecessary. George's shots of everyday streets and houses, littered with bodies and silent as the grave, leave enough of an impression.
We have no trouble sharing Rusesabagina's sense of injustice when an American journalist (Joaquin Phoenix) tells him that if Westerners learn what is happening, "they'll say ??"Oh my God, that's terrible' and they'll go on eating their dinners." Hotel Rwanda can be unnecessarily sentimental, but any audience will soon be rolling with the pain and redemption Rusesabagina encounters. Emphasizing the rest of civilization's obliviousness augments this emotional force, even if it is redundant.
But George summons the clearest dramatic voice when he focuses not on broad politics, but on his individual characters. We watch as Rusesabagina's quiet confidence gives way to a frantic bravery, as his family tearfully anticipates the next outburst of mayhem. To boot, Nick Nolte, as the veteran colonel heading the U.N. peacekeeping force, bitterly articulates the isolation and frustration that Rusesabagina and his residents feel. Frequently, Hotel Rwanda employs some suspense and confusion for the sake of its message. While Paul races through Kigali, it becomes clear that this likable little man is, in his country's darkest hour, one of the few pillars of decency left standing.
Developed in consultation with Rusesabagina himself, no movie could come closer to the reality of those terrible 100 days. Hotel Rwanda is occasionally too overt for its own good -- fraught with wrenching emotion and social lessons. Still, almost a decade later, has the world developed the sensitivity that George asks for? Sadly, there is a long way to go. At least Hotel Rwanda, a piece superbly comfortable with its uncompromising candor, has the courage to expose the deadliest faults of our time.
