By Paula Woods

All in all, 2009 has been a year of mixed blessings for black representation in film. A few documentaries stood out—Chris Rock’s Good Hair and the Michael Jackson concert that never was. Black Dynamite expertly spoofed blaxploitation films of the 1970s while Precious personalized welfare reform of the 1980s through the trials and small triumphs of a young Harlem girl struggling to overcome parental and bureaucratic abuse. Too often, black representation in film is seen through the eyes of whites, as in The Blind Side, which is more about the wealthy white family who sheltered football great Michael Oher than the athlete’s triumphs on or off the gridiron.

But Hollywood has a way of saving its best (or at least, its best hopes for Oscars) for last, which brings us to Clint Eastwood’s Invictus. In presenting the true story of the 1995 South African Springbok’s underdog run at the Rugby World Cup, director Eastwood and Morgan Freeman (who stars as Nelson Mandela and served as an executive producer) aim to not only honor the spirit and achievement of Nelson Mandela but also to humanize his drive to reconcile a country torn apart by apartheid and years of violent resistance.

Film cognoscenti will recall that Freeman has had a long-standing interest in playing Mandela, a desire that the South African freedom fighter also shared. But while adapting Long Walk to Freedom, Mandela’s 1994 autobiography, proved unwieldy for the screen, the period covering Mandela’s release from prison through the initial days of his presidency proves to be both pivotal to transformation of South Africa and excellent fodder for an exciting sports film.

Invictus opens on February 11, 1990, with the release of Nelson Mandela from prison. As the motorcade bearing Mandela barrels along a country road, it bisects two fenced properties—one in which poor black South Africans are playing soccer and the other filled with white Afrikaners playing rugby. One Afrikaner says to the other, in noting the occasion, “This is the day our country went to the dogs.” Four years later, Mandela is elected President of South Africa and takes office amid questions from the staff of outgoing President F.W de Klerk that ironically echo those following another recently elected black president: “He can win an election, but can he run a country?”

Running South Africa in 1994 meant addressing high unemployment, crime and foreign trade issues. But as important to Mandela was healing the racial divide that had pitted black South Africans against Afrikaners for decades, and creating one nation. “Forgiveness liberates the soul,” he tells his skeptical staff. “That’s why it’s such a powerful weapon.”

For South Africa’s new president, forgiveness works both ways. Whites who had worked for de Klerk’s apartheid-government are asked by Mandela to stay on, much to the chagrin of some of his black inner circle, including chief of staff Brenda Mazibuko (English actress Adjoa Andoh) and ANC security chief Jason Tshabalala (South African native Tony Kgoroge). A scene between Tshabalala and the black security detail who had protected their beloved “Madiba” and white members of SASS, the South African Secret Service, crackles with hatred and suspicion, even though both groups are sworn to protect their leader.

But when Mandela champions the losing Springboks, the nation’s all-white rugby team, he defies his cabinet, the National Sports Council of South Africa and his supporters. But sensing an opportunity, Mandela invites the team’s captain, Francois Pienaar (played by a bulked-up Matt Damon), to tea to discuss leadership and rugby and, in the process, inspires the young Afrikaner to lead his team to in its quest for the World Cup.

One of the factors that makes Invictus not just a great sports movie but a great film is Eastwood’s assuredness in telling his story. He doesn’t resort to fancy gimmicks, or much technology, relying instead on solid research and attention to detail that shines on every frame on the screen. Only one moving flashback conveys the essence of Mandela’s imprisonment on Robben Island (filmed on location) while special effects fill Ellis Park stadium for the World Cup finals. The only off-note, surprisingly, is the soundtrack, with the moving work of the South African musicians interspersed with lesser work contributed by Eastwood and family members. But what Eastwood excels at here, and in films as disparate as Unforgiven, Million Dollar Baby or Mystic River, is capturing the small, telling moments that linger in the mind, whether it be illuminating the personal toll the presidency took on Mandela, who is shown exhausted at times and estranged from his wife and daughter, or the milestone in personal race relations that occurs when the Pienaar’s black housekeeper accompanies the family to the World Cup Finals in Johannesburg. And Eastwood and his long-time collaborators behind the camera are adept at conveying the raw physicality that is the essence of rugby, a sport unknown to most Americans, in a way that is totally engaging whether you understand its rules or not.

The cast of Invictus is another major asset. From Mandela’s black security team and advisers to the whites who grow to respect and even love him (notably Welsh actor Julian Lewis Jones, who plays the leader of the SASS team who had served de Klerk), the large cast (which included black and white South Africans in several key roles) excels at bringing a verisimilitude to their roles. Eastwood even hired a black South African rugby player to coach the actors for the games that consume almost half of the film.

But the bulk of the acting load is shouldered by Damon and Freeman, who portray Pienaar and Mandela as unlikely allies in transforming the nation. Damon, known best for his work in Steven Soderbergh’s Oceans franchise and the Bourne trilogy, has the more showy role as the rock-solid athlete spurred by Mandela to greatness on the field and off. But the quiet, shining core of Invictus is to be found Freeman’s performance. He imbues Mandela with the grace, charm and wit we have seen from a distance but feel we know so much more intimately through this majestic performance. He indeed embodies Mandela’s favorite lines from the William Ernest Henley Poem from which the film takes its title: “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.” This is without doubt one of the best performances of Freeman’s notable career, and worthy of the man and period he, Eastwood and their collaborators so remarkably convey.

Paula L. Woods’ reviews of books have appeared in the Los Angeles Times, The Washington Post and other publications. She is the author of eight books, including I, Too, Sing America: The African-American Book of Days, and four Charlotte Justice crime novels, which include Inner City Blues and Strange Bedfellows.