I saw this film at the Toronto International Film Festival. I loved this, and not just for the obvious reasons. Blindsight is a documentary about a group of blind Tibetan teenagers who attempt to climb one of Mount Everest's sister peaks. Now, this kind of thing is usually a can't miss. Inspirational. Moving. Pretty standard, right? And even if the film were just that, I'd still have liked it. But it was so much more. Blind herself, German Sabriye Tenberken established a school for blind children in Tibet, in a culture that sees blindness as a curse, as evidence that a person did bad things in a previous life. Many of the children at the school have been shunned their whole lives, and at best, are a burden to their families. As part of their education, Tenberken shares with them the story of American Erik Weihenmayer, the first blind person to reach the summit of Mount Everest. She sends him a letter inviting him to come and visit her students. Instead, he comes up with a plan. He'll arrange an expedition for them to climb 23,000 foot Lhakpa Ri and provide all the guides and equipment. Sabriye finds six willing participants and this is when the fun starts.
Erik's team are mostly American, mostly male, and mostly sighted. As experienced mountaineers, they're Type-A personalities, very gung-ho and goal-oriented. Sabriye is European, female, and blind, and the students for her are more than a "project," no matter how well-intentioned. Additionally, the students are Tibetan, and not old enough or confident enough to always stand up for themselves. As the expedition unfolds, they become pawns in between the two adult "sides," wanting to please both, while at the same time wanting to gain the confidence that comes from accomplishment. As an additional obstacle (other than being blind, that is), they are speaking English as a second or in most cases, a third language, and struggle to understand and make themselves understood.
When it turns out that none of the students have any climbing experience, and that some are much more coordinated than others, it begins to unravel Erik's original plan for them all to reach the summit together. As both students and teachers begin to suffer the effects of high altitude, decisions must be made as to whether to continue on or to send some down the mountain. Among the effects of high altitude is increased irritability, and you can see how this feeds the conflict between the adults. At the risk of oversimplifying, on one side are those for whom the destination is all, and on the other are those who just want to enjoy the journey. I won't tell you how it all turns out, except to say that this was one of the most surprising and thought-provoking stories I've seen in a long time.
The film also weaves bits of each climber's story into the narrative, and this was sorely needed, since once on the climb, the kids tended to keep their heads down and their mouths shut. With all the drama going on around them, that wasn't surprising. The backstories are by turns charming and heartbreaking, and I found it very strange that I found myself closer to tears at the beginning of the film than at the end. This was contrary to my expectations, and another pleasant surprise.
In addition to all the human drama to cover, director Walker and her small crew had to contend with the frigid and oxygen-deprived conditions herself, lugging equipment up the mountains and hoping it wouldn't break down. As with all great documentaries, the filmmaker was just lucky enough (or smart enough, or prepared enough) to be at the right place at the right time, and she's captured a very special story that has as much to say about people who want to do "what's best for the kids" as it does about the kids themselves.

The first part, Che in Cuba, is about that portion of his life. It contains too many indistinguishable battles and Che ministering to too many indistinguishable wounded (remember that Che was a physician). It ends as Castro wins the revolution; Che never gets to Havana. The second part, Che in Bolivia, is about guess what. It contains too many indistinguishable battles and Che ministering to too many indistinguishable wounded.
When I realized this was supposed to be an "epic" (I never knew *anything* but the title before it started), I naturally thought of the greatest epic of them all, David Lean's Lawrence of Arabia. More of that later.
Not to be a racist, but aside from what I've already mentioned is the fact that there are too many characters who are, well, indistinguishable -- unknown Hispanic actors who look alike, especially considering they all wear "Che" beards and all wear Che fatigues. This results in the viewer not being able to identify with anyone other than Che, Benicio del Toro (even Fidel has a very minor role). While del Toro's terrific, think of "Lawrence" with Peter O'Toole as the only discernible character: no Alec Guinness, no Omar Sharif, no Anthony Quinn, etc. You get the idea.
Because the other characters are interchangeable, this results in a loss of reference. When top aides of Che are killed, you feel no remorse since you don't know who they are. Even when Che is killed (I don't think that's a spoiler), there's no empathy from the audience -- he's just killed.
He's too one-dimensional to relate to as a human being. Aside from being a revolutionary and second only to Jesus in moral rectitude, the only thing we learn about Che is that he's married with five children (he tells another character that near the end). What was his motivation? A complete enigma.
Maybe Soderbergh is purposely aping Lean. Like Soderbergh's Che, Lean never lets us know anything about Lawrence, the mystery man of Arabia. But at least Lawrence had a friend (Sharif) and associates (Guinness, Quinn). He was as courageous as he was insecure -- i.e., had human qualities. Che is like a machine, about as warm as The Terminator.
Earlier this year there was another war epic, Mongol. Che makes Mongol look like It's a Wonderful Life.