Carlos

Olivier Assayas is not shy about vying with The Godfather in this long-form crime saga, which spans two decades of globe-trotting mayhem by the would-be godfather of international terrorism (or political struggle, as the idealogues would have it).  Carlos’s biggest hit (and biggest flop) was seizing a roomful of OPEC oil ministers at a meeting in Vienna in 1974, and commandeering a plane to take them to Libya and then Algeria, before all hostages were released, and the “revolutionary cadre” escaped to fight again.  That takes up most of the middle episode of three, as made for French tv and recently shown on the Sundance Channel, close to six hours in all, with a 140-minute version in theatrical release.  That central drama is surrounded by lots of assassinations and bombings, plus sex and high living, as Assayas tells the story in admittedly speculative though highly convincing fashion.   We see Ilich Ramirez Sanchez, a Venezuelan leftist whose brothers were named Vladimir and Lenin, assume the nom de guerre of Carlos, to which the media adds the sobriquet of “the Jackal,” making him a big name in violent circles around the world.  His sponsors shift from Qaddafi to Saddam to Assad, from Moscow to Berlin to Bucharest, as he franchises terrorism around the globe.  Edgar Ramirez, also Venezuelan, has the magnetism and acting chops to draw one through long stretches in the company of an odious man.  In its own reflective thriller mode, Assayas’s film has more to say about the globalization of terror than almost anything I have seen or read.  It’s sordid enough to make you ask why you’re sitting through all those hours of repellent behavior, but compelling enough to never drag.  (2010, MC-93)