This movie couldn't have wallowed any more in ridiculous sentimentality if Che had walked across the river and cured the lepers with his bare hands. If you read the diaries Che's own portrait of himself is much less impressive--he basically comes across as a self-important prig with grandiose dreams but little in the way of guts. This makes him at least a far more honest man than the film makers. You would have thought that after all these years the left would be able to come to terms with the contradictions and shortcomings of its heroes. How did such a bright and idealist young man turn into such a flawed adult? The clues are in the diaries, but you'd never know it from this idealised and idolised portrayal.
This is the film of the Che the bedsit poster, not Che the man.
This is the film of the Che the bedsit poster, not Che the man.