White Hunter Black Heart: Days of yore resonate evermore.

Oh Hollywood. Once you produced films of such caliber that every other country's film-makers aspired to emulate you. Even countries that were aligned against the U. S. of A. attempted to usurp Hollywood in terms of film-making prowess. Nowadays, Hollywood is the last place anyone looks to for anything genuinely good. I bring this up, not because "White Hunter Black Heart" paints Hollywood as utterly banal and bereft of humanity, though it pokes fun at it. I bring it up because it's most certainly the plight (Perhaps not the central plight) of John Wilson, the film's protagonist.
Or maybe I'm full of shit and he was simply too much of a rebel to conform to something like the studio system. He being John Huston, who if he's anything like Eastwood portrays him to be, was a real rabble-rousing wild man.

"White Hunter Black Heart" takes place in the late forties or early fifties (It's never specified when the events in it take place, but considering that "The African Queen" was released in '52, I don't think I'm far off). Jeff Fahey stars as the starry-eyed Pete Verrill, struggling writer and close comrade of famous trouble-making director John Wilson (Eastwood). Wilson's set to shoot a film in Africa and he wants Pete to touch up the script for him and come with to the mysterious dark continent. Once there, it seems that Wilson orchestrated the whole shoot so he can go on Safari in hopes of bagging himself an elephant. This of course, leads to friction between he, his friends and his producers.

Clint! LOOK BEHIND YOU!

This is one meaty movie. Whether it's dealing in movie-making politics, racism, or simply the ever-changing modern-world, a feeling of history permeates the whole film. You get a sense that the characters in it are perched on the precipice of a huge shift in the ways things are going to be done world-wide. Whether they're ready for it (The producer of the film) or seem able to adapt (Verrill) or are straight up going to be left in the dust (Many of the British in Africa) is not something the audience is shown, but is definitely foreshadowed.
Wilson himself is a timeless sort of man, a man who is always out of his time. He refuses to conform to any form of compromise to the extent of burning bridges and wreaking emotional havoc on those around him. He's also absurdly charming and full of laughs, but a loner nonetheless. The rogue artist, pushing the boundaries not only of his art but of the people about him. His maddening quest to kill an elephant is not something driven by spite for any wild animal, but by a spite for a society that would allow such a thing. If he can do it, then he will, regardless of the sacrifice involved. Or so it seems throughout most of the film.

This film, though a fictionalization feels very close to John Huston. In terms of story-telling and the way it's shot, it manages to evoke the feel of his films. Eastwood is fabulous in his portrayal of the man, giving what has to be my favorite of his performances. The film is a tad ponderous at times, though it never meanders. It also undergoes some interesting shifts in polarity where even the most annoying or reprehensible of characters seem sympathetic in the end when faced with the somewhat destructive presence of Wilson.

Verrill himself acts as a foil for Wilson. Whereas to begin with he seems like a stick in the mud, as the film progresses his rationale gains more and more credibility. The central argument throughout the film really boils down to a brief quibble the two have early on about the ending of the script, and by the end Verrill's point is made manifest by the harsh reality of our world. Sometimes, dwelling on the supposedly inherent darkness of man will leave you with naught but despair. And what good despair when one wishes to produce art?

And so, the shoot commences.