Tim Brough's Black Leather Bookshelf

Dance With The Devil 
3 Out Of 5 Stars

Uday Saddam Hussein was the sadistic son of Saddam Hussein, and of Saddam's two sons, the craziest. Uday decides that, like his father, he needs a body double to protect himself from those who'd like to kill him. Soldier and former classmate of Uday, Latif Yahia, is picked for the job. When Latif initially declines, it is made more than clear that the offer is not a request. It's a life or death choice.

Based in the true story of Latif, "The Devil's Double" is a tale of what unchecked wealth, greed and sexual avarice can happen when the safety mechanisms are taken away. Uday had a taste for fast cars and young women, and he discarded them equally when he tired of them. Latif finds that even those close to Uday are wary and cautious of Saddam's son's appetites and savage behavior. The longer Latif remains ensnared by a man who announces at one point, "God doesn't give me anything, I take what I want," the more he falls into desperation. Which means that if Uday wants to watch videos of the men he's tortured and killed (graphically included in the film), he will and everyone around him will uneasily tolerate it. Latif knows he could be part of the next random cruelty...and likely will, eventually.

The most amazing thing about "The Devil's Double," aside from the bizarreness of the true story, is Dominic Cooper who plays Latif and Uday. Latif is troubled and fighting the person he's been forced to become, Uday is a raging id without conscious. Cooper digs into both roles with so much verve that it's tough to discern he is really playing both roles. Cooper heads up an international cast that includes Philip Quast in a surprisingly sympathetic portrayal of Saddam (and Saddam's double) and French actress Ludivine Sagnier as Sarrab, a troubled woman also caught between Uday and Latif. It's powerful and disturbing movie, and not easily forgotten.

I was watching with amazement this week how we've ht the 40th anniversary of Apollo 11 and man's only steps on another celestial body. I have vivid memories of crowding around the big TV at my Nana's, watching with silent glee as Neil Armstrong dropped to the lunar surface. My godfather, Uncle Ray, worked for NASA almost all his life and I wanted nothing greater than to be an astronaut and go see Uncle Ray and Aunt Doris to see a real rocket launch.

Other kids memorized ball team rosters and stats, but not me. I knew every astronaut, every mission and any trivial detail about the space program my enthusiastic pre-teen mind could store away. I did not have rock stars or football players on my bedroom walls, I had a map of the solar system and a door sized poster of a Saturn V. Once they appeared everywhere for sale, the Apollo 11 Nasa Portrait of Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin and Michael Collins was up on my wall. Granted, 40 years later my adult mind has forgotten the bulk of these space facts, but that little nine year old that clutched the edge of Nana's hook rug and held his breath until we heard the cheers from Mission Control ring out peeped out a couple times this week.


I also had wondered if Walter Cronkite had given thought to these happenings. Uncle Ray had told me Cronkite had often visited Cape Kennedy and was an enthusiastic booster of the Space Program, so news of his passing came with a twinge. Cronkite came from the days of news that mattered instead of news that entertained, when a hard news journalist could impact the country's train of thought. There wasn't this mad race to the bottom, to see who could scoop everyone with a story about a pop singer's public antics or blow-hards massaging their egos by misrepresenting facts to suit their (or their network's) agenda.

It was famously said that President Johnson, when he heard that Walter Cronkite had claimed that the Viet Nam War was an unwinnable stalemate, commented "If I lost Cronkite, I've lost the midwest." We've lost that impact and that voice. The 24 hour round the clock news cycle, with multiple channels feeding us ratings bait but little substance, getting to news that matters has become near impossible. Like the stunning impact of seeing our first man on the moon, a voice with the integrity of Walter Cronkite's will not likely arrive to influence us again.