June 5, 1968 will remain etched on my memory. Finals were over at the University of Illinois and I'd be heading back home. Early morning sun peered through my Snyder Hall dorm window as my hippie roommate shook me awake in my upper bunk berth. Intently he whispered, "They killed him," and I knew what that meant. "They" had killed JFK and just killed MLK a month ago; Bobby was the last hope. He was to become our next President. (Note: During the 1968 campaign we always referred to RFK as "Bobby"--a more intimate connection with a politician who actually seemed to care)

Romantic ideas about changing the political system wiped out, whoever wielded Excalibur had been slain. There could be no justice--no fight for right in the U.S.

I lay inert as my roommate filled me in on details, but I changed that morning. Forever disillusioned with politics, I've remained cynical about American politics ever since Bobby's assassination. Turns out that many from my generation felt the same way. Bobby was a political touchstone for Baby Boomers--the last symbol of idealism who had a realistic chance of heading the nation. His death marked a tragic turning point in U.S. history.

That's why Emilio Estevez has pursued a film project about RFK for years, finally securing a relatively small $ 5 million dollar budget to produce Bobby, which centers around RFK's assassination. A labor of love, Estevez assembled a large all-star cast, a few of whom have yet to sign a contract or see any financial return. But bringing a vision of RFK's significance to a new generation provides plenty of pay-off.

Being over critical of such a well-intentioned homage comes close to being sacrilegious. Unfortunately, Estevez's cinematic tribute disappoints throughout the first hour and forty-five minutes. But the final 10 minutes is so powerful and moving that the film warrants recommendation.

You must wade through an unevenly disjointed soap opera collage during the preliminary stages—twenty-two people who unwittingly are fated to witness RFK's tragic final moments in the back stage pantry of Los Angeles' Ambassador Hotel that evening. (A real coup is that Estevez was able to shoot on the actual location before the historic building was demolished). Despite our soothsayer point of view, it doesn't elevate the script above the mundane. Estevez strives for an Altmanesque style but only ends up with a Paul Haggis-like veneer treatment--supplying only glib references to the turbulent era.

RFK was such an icon that Estevez wisely avoids casting an actor for his role, instead relying on grainy archive footage to capture Bobby on the campaign trail and during his victory speech. We only see an unnamed faceless actor from a distance or from the backside when it's absolutely necessary to recreate the moment.

The all-star cast does its best with the material, and many provide memorable moments and vignettes. Wearing his "Bobby" campaign button, Ambassador Hotel manager Paul (William Macy) alternately fires his restaurant/kitchen manager Timmons (Christian Slater) for racism and uses a vacant suite to cheat on his hotel hairdresser wife Miriam (Sharon Stone).

Estevez casts himself as Kennedy supporter Tim, who manages of his alcoholic wife Virginia Fallon (Demi Moore), a professional singer booked in the Ambassador cocktail lounge and is to introduce the Senator that evening. Estavez also casts his father Martin Sheen as wealthy Kennedy campaign contributor Jack, whose wife Samantha (Helen Hunt) is overly concerned about her appearance. For the older generation we have hotel owner John Casey (Anthony Hopkins) reminiscing about the past glory days of the Ambassador while routinely beating his longtime friend and former worker Nelson (Harry Belafonte) at chess in the lobby.

To bring a touch of comic relief as well as bring in some younger actors that may resonate with younger viewers, Estevez casts Ashton Kutcher as a hippie drug dealer and Brian Geraghty and Shia LaBeouf as a pair of campaign workers, who trip out on acid instead of knocking on doors.

To bring sixties political relevance to the film, Estevez sketches in characters to broach Civil Rights and Vietnam as well, as bring in some younger actors that may resonate with younger viewers. Diane (Lindsay Lohan) nobly strives to save William (Elijah Wood) from the draft by marrying him, and Latino kitchen workers Miguel (Jacob Vargas) and Jose (Freddy Rodriguez) are angry about unfair treatment and having to work another double shift. Jose is especially upset because this will cause him to miss Don Drysdale's record setting pitching appearance at Dodger Stadium that evening. But this provides opportunity for Robinson (Laurence Fishburne) to offer sage advice and poignantly designate Jose as the "Once and Future King" when the young Latino presents Dodger tickets to him. Jose has another fate that evening--inadvertently posing for a historic photograph that will forever link him with RFK.

Just as that poignant black and white image has come to symbolize the tremendous loss that idealistic Americans suffered that horrible night, Estevez's flawed film does effectively sample that feeling during the formidable finale. I was once again moved to tears after Bobby's last words: "And now it's on to Chicago and let's win there." That’s what should have happened, but history played out painfully differently--fatally wounding my generation's innocence and idealism. Never again could we put our faith in the system or come to trust and "love" another politician.

Bobby does capture the mournful finale well enough to overlook the weaknesses of Estevez's script. A shame that the overall film doesn't measure up to its namesake, but that would be an almost insurmountable task. Estevez's "everyman" tribute will suffice for the present, as Ted Kennedy indicates in his eloquent eulogy:

My brother need not be idealized or enlarged in death beyond what he was in life. He should be remembered simply as a good and decent man who saw wrong and tried to right it, saw suffering and tried to heal it, saw war and tried to stop it.