Watching this movie, your body feels more stressed and hemmed in by the constant assault of sacharine liberal platitudes than the impending arrival of genocidal militias, which you almost forget about. By the film's excrutiating end, I was half expecting the helicopters to disembark a team of chiropractors. It's hard bashing something that is so sincere, you feel like a bully. However, might I suggest putting on the cans and listening to Peter Gabriel's Biko over and over for two hours while looking at postcards of Bruce Willis and Africa? The pain will remain the same but will work out cheaper.