Films, when provocative, ask questions of their audience. Films, when insightful, ask questions of themselves.
In Hotel Rwanda, a searing account of the 1994 genocides in Rwanda, Director/Screen-writer Terry George raises questions about moral weakness, colonial legacy and social implosion. The relevant cinematic question is how do we understand the magnitude of genocide?
In film, there is no proper sense of magnitude. Movies tend to glorify their material -- we reel when watching two armies collide, but we don't deny the grandeur. This style is untenable in Hotel Rwanda. This approach lacks the modesty for historical exposition.
George's approach to the subject is one of the film's achievements. He tells the story of Paul Rusesabagina, played by Don Cheadle. Paul is the manager of the Des Miles Collines Hotel in Rwanda's capitol city, Kagali. Through bribery, cunning, favors, sacrifice, pleading and luck, he saves 1,268 refugees from massacre, sheltering them in the hotel.
Paul is middle class and Western-educated, making him easily identifiable for the audience. More importantly, in seeing the history from his perspective, we come to terms with the events. The film gives us the shadow of a branch and we fill in the tree.
In many ways, Hotel Rwanda shares the cinematic heritage of Schindler's List and even a bit of Casablanca. All three involve capable men asked to assume a position of moral leadership in a world losing sense and order.
What's unique about Hotel Rwanda is the clash between professionalism and social chaos. Paul's ability to preserve the sanctity of his hotel rests on his skills as a capable hotel manager. This characterization of the conflict shows Paul as not simply a righteous and noble individual but also a champion of moral order over civil decay.
Paul's heroism is a counterpoint to the film's portrayal of Western moral cowardice -- unlike Paul, the West backs out of their problems instead of confronting them. The film's condemnation of the West is severe, as Western powers are shown sending troops only to escort their own citizens, then quibbling over the difference between "acts of genocide" and "actual genocide."
Yet what holds the film from greatness is its persistent tone of moral outrage. While understandable, its insistence subtracts from the movie's quality, transforming an elegant cinematic enthymeme into a pedantic rant, a soapbox in place of the sublime. It even cheapens Paul's humanity, reducing him to an excuse for George to ask the moviegoer, "Why couldn't you be like him?"
Despite such shortcomings, Hotel Rwanda is a harrowing account of the Rwandan genocide with images that will long settle into the collective memory of the audience. It concludes with one last question for us to consider. What gives us hope for the future? The film's answer: people like Paul Rusesabagina.