Kleist's narrator, journalist Karl Mertens, begins his vigorous tale with a noble dictum: "a reporter must always remain neutral, must not judge and never become biased". Yet no sooner is he off the plane from Germany and into the sticky heat of 1950s Cuba than he's fallen in love with both a female guerrilla and the charismatic young Fidel Castro, who is hiding in the mountains. Mertens follows Castro through revolution and a reign that, despite the Bay of Pigs, trade blockades and scores of assassination attempts, lasts for 47 years. Kleist has a dramatic story to tell and rarely disappoints, his black-and-white artwork capturing bloody skirmishes, expressive faces and crowd scenes that throb with life. Clever touches, whether quotes from real interviews or the surprise appearance of Michael Corleone's face in a gallery of real rogues, make up for the occasional clunky dialogue. But inevitably it is Castro who dominates, and Kleist does a fine job of rendering the self-belief that both fuelled him and led this avowed lover of freedom into brutal crackdowns.