In The Motorcycle Diaries, Brazilian director Walter Salles (Central Station) asks what it is that shapes a man. His subject is iconic revolutionary Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara; a man who was embraced as part Karl Marx, part James Dean by a genearation of Western students who in turn mythologised him for generations to come. But this is not a fiery biopic of a radical idealist, rather a suprisingly placid introduction to a man who discovered his compassion. In 1952 the young Guevara (played by Y Tu Mama Tambien’s charismatic hearthrob Gael Garcia Bernal) leaves home with his best friend Alberto (Rodrigo de la Serna) and embarks on an 20,000 kilometre rites of passage around South America on a rusty, unreliable Norton motorbike. Their journey begins as near-comedy, neither of these city-slickers are equipped for the country and before long, the dreamers ecounter injustice that opens their eyes to a climate of military and social persecution, underlined by time on a leper colony during which Che’s life is changed forever. Bernal’s star-turn is found in the candour with which Salles treats the audience. His technique is as relaxed and lucid as his key players who bring complete honesty to their roles. Through Alberto’s recognition that he probably won’t go as far as his friend we see ourselves, reinforced by the film’s revealing coda. Guevara’s trip brought him "closer to this strange human race", a journey that shaped the choices made at life’s turning points. Awash in natural rhythms and measures, The Motorcycle Diaries is Salles’s best film, an intoxiciating Academy Award winner-in-waiting. Got the t-shirt? Now go see the movie. // COLIN FRASER