Nicholas is very enthusiastic at first, about making a difference in a place like Africa but is also naïve about the way things work. Idi Amin was known for his strange liking and preoccupation with all things Scottish, which is one reason he embraces Dr Garrigan. From what is known about Amin, it seems as though he became enamored of the sound of bagpipes as a young boy and because of British colonialism in Africa, sees the Scottish struggle with England in a sympathetic light. Swept up in the headiness of being the personal doctor/confidante of the head of a country, Garrigan gradually becomes a participant rather than observer to the extent that there are repercussions from certain choices he makes.

This film, directed by Kevin MacDonald,based on the Giles Foden novel, explores not only a bizarre fictitious relationship, but the bigger issue of the post-colonialist culture of Africa in the portrayal of Africans ruling themselves in Uganda, with the British influence and manipulation still felt in the background. Alongside the real historical depiction of Uganda’s bloody period under Idi Amin runs the fictional story of the naïve idealistic young doctor, albeit with an eye for the women and scandalous situations, whose character evolves to the realization that life in war torn and poverty stricken Africa is not a theme park.

The film looks good and is awash in the vibrant colors of Africa, reminiscent of the earlier film, ‘The Constant Gardener,’ that also portrayed an idealism and naivete about the way things were done in that culture, but the major draw of ‘The Last King of Scotland’ is the depiction of Idi Amin by Forest Whitaker. I resist the use of the cliched phrase, ‘tour de force’ but Whitaker is absolutely inspired in this role. The supporting cast is fine but it really is Whitaker’s film. He has been incredible in earlier films like, ‘The Crying Game’, ‘Bird’, and his excellent quirky role in Jim Jarmusch’s, ‘Ghost Dog’. For anyone around at the time that saw footage of Amin, Forest Whitaker is undeniably him. There are clips at the end of the film showing the real Idi Amin and the viewer would be hard pressed to really see a difference.

There are also a couple of very surreal scenes – one in a club showing a band with a female vocalist doing the American country tune, ‘Me and Bobbie McGee’ and one, in particular, where an African chorus is singing a rendition of the Scottish classic, ‘Loch Lomond’, while Idi Amin sits listening placidly, kitted out in Scottish tartan kilt and military cap edged in plaid.

This film is a very good tale of the seductive nature of power and privilege, set among the swirl of activity and blood, generated by the rule of the insane Idi Amin, made all the more real by Forest Whitaker’s rendering of Amin. The combination of this fictional story with the actual history makes for an excellent and exciting cinematic offering.

Marc Goldin currently lives in Chicago, with three cats, each one more long-haired than the last. Interests have ranged from medieval monasticism to discontinued stations on the London Underground – literary likes too diverse (some would say schizo) to list here although the last several years have been witness to an intimacy with Scottish and Irish literature. American Southern and Beat era lit also account for some of the ‘missing years’. Music tastes run the gamut from Cuban Danzon to Ska (all three waves but having a specific attachment to the second, two-tone period) to the Tuvan throat singers. Has written book reviews for a now defunct Irish literature site and has several short stories in various stages of development. Mad for black and white photography and aspires to someday have a complete collection of photos documenting every close in the Grassmarket area of Edinburgh. Works in the IT dept. of a French company in the current political climate. In football, supports Chelsea, Hibs, and for the sake of employment security, Marseille. For more articles and reviews by Marc on The New Review, click here or to read Marc's story, 'Plastic Paddy' on the Showcase, click here.

© 2006 Laura Hird All rights reserved.