With the recent cinematic dramatizations of the life of Che Guevara, from his early days as a road tripping med student in the excellent The Motorcycle Diaries to Steven Soderbergh's lengthy version of his revolutionary years in the four and a half hour biopic that just premiered at Cannes, an unusual perspective was obviously necessary to any documentary version of his story to keep it from seeming stale or overly academic in comparison. And the makers of Chevolution have done just that, constructing a history of the man that not only succeeds in avoiding either blind lionization or reactionary condemnation, but also looks at him with the lens through which we most often see him. Literally.

Getting a handle on who Che Guevara was, and what he means now can't be as simple as rote biography when the myths and legends that surround his legacy are so outsized. As one South American laborer states during the film, he's not a religious man, but if he was, Che would be his god. How does one begin to cut through that kind of inflated image? By using the singular iconic image that helped make him more symbol than man as the starting point. You may have never heard the name Albert Korda, but you know his work. The ubiquitous image of Che Guevara that adorned revolutionary posters throughout the turbulent late 1960s, and increasing numbers of consumer products in the decades since then, from T-shirts to bikini bottoms to baby booties, was shot by Korda in 1960 at a memorial service for the victims of a tragic port explosion some believed may have been orchestrated by the United States. The documentary traces the paths of both Guevara and Korda in their lives leading up to that moment, and in the years after, finally analyzing the complex relationship between the image and its widespread use as a symbol of revolution and rebellion to both true believers and to a youth culture more conscious of fashion than of the course of Latin American revolutionary history.

The image is said to be the most reproduced in history, and the filmmakers spend a lot of time examining the unique series of interrelated conditions that made that possible: Castro's rejection of the notion of copyright, which was an idea supported by the photographer himself (who spent a decade as Castro's personal photographer), and which was also a function of the Marxist ideology that Guevara fought and died for. The film is quick to point out the irony of the image going on to become such a large source of capitalist profit, and doesn't shy away from the difficult questions of where legitimate protection of Guevara's ideals ends and profiteering begins as it looks at the lawsuits Korda's estate has engaged in to collect damages or royalties from those his daughter feels have used the image improperly.

The film is filled with interviews with a wide array of subjects: peers of both Korda and Guevara, graphic artists, members of the Latin American working classes, Sinn Fein's Gerry Adams, historians, and of course the requisite celebrity weigh-ins from actors who have played Guevara (Antonio Banderas and Gael García Bernal) and Rage Against the Machine's Tom Morello, whose appearance here is probably as easily predicted as Ian MacKaye's appearance in any film about punk history. The broad approach squeezes in a maximum amount of information into the film's lean and expertly structured 90-minute running time; the brisk pace never lets up for a moment, and is a lesson in the power of deft editing. Applying a three act structure to the documentary gives it a dramatic pull that makes it eminently watchable.

The wide ranging interview subjects also allow room for a broad spectrum of viewpoints. The initial parts of the film, mostly about the years leading up to the Cuban revolution, are extremely positive towards Guevara; which is to be expected, as they're told mostly through Guevara and Korda's contemporaries and friends, and the workers who feel they inherited the benefits of his legacy. But as the film moves along, and the image of Guevara becomes more about the singular image of one photograph and the resulting sanctification of Che, the waters become muddier, and more critics are introduced. By the end, we're never sure exactly where the filmmakers themselves stand, a feat in and of itself with such a divisive subject. More importantly, we're left with not only a more complete understanding of Che the man and Che the myth, but also of the immense power of just one image in the hands and minds of artists, designers, media, propagandists, and the imagination of the general public.

Chevolution premieres tonight at 9 p.m., and screens again on Saturday at 9 p.m. at the SILVERDOCS AFI/Discovery Channel Documentary Festival.