6/9/14 (Part One): Young’uns and Dragons

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'80s fantasy films, 1980's, baby dragons, Caitlin Clarke, cinema, Conan the Barbarian, debut acting role, Disney films, dragons, Dragonslayer, fantasy, film reviews, films, Galen, Industrial Light and Magic, John Hallam, John Milius, King Casiodorus, Matthew Robbins, Movies, Oscar nominee, Peter MacNicol, Ralph Richardson, romance, special-effects extravaganza, sword and sorcery, the Dark Ages, the Middle Ages, Touchstone Pictures, Tyrian, unlikely hero, Valerian, virgin sacrifice, wizard's apprentice, wizards, writer-director

When I was a wee young’un, I was a bit of a fantasy/sword and sorcery buff. Okay: I was actually more of a fanatic but let’s not split hairs. During those all important formative years, I watched (and re-watched) dozens of knight/wizard/dragon/mysterious land epics, although there were two that I found myself returning to more often than the others: Conan the Barbarian (1982) and Dragonslayer (1981). To this day, Conan the Barbarian still stands as one of my favorite films: I re-watch it on a regular basis and will defend its merits to my dying day. In fact, if you haven’t seen John Milius’ awe-inspiring classic, drop what you’re doing and fix that error, post haste…you’ll thank me later.

Although my lifelong love of Conan the Barbarian has never waned, I must admit that I haven’t actually sat down to watch Dragonslayer in at least a decade, although it may be closer to 15 years. When I was putting together my recent viewings, I had the bright idea to revisit the film and see how it holds up today. Despite my former obsession with the film, I honestly couldn’t recall much more than the hero’s frizzy hair and a scene involving baby dragons. Would this be a case like Clerks (1994), where a formerly beloved movie has turned into vinegar, or had Dragonslayer become a “fine wine” over the years?

It would appear that the people of Urland have a bit of a problem: an ancient, spiteful, fire-breathing dragon has been terrorizing the kingdom for years and the people are held in the icy grip of fear. In order to convince the dragon to quit setting everything on fire, King Casiodorus (Peter Eyre) has been holding a lottery twice a year, a lottery which all female virgins in the kingdom are required to participate in (with the exception of his own daughter, Princess Elspeth (Chloe Salaman), of course). The “winners” of the lottery get to become dragon snacks, while the “losers” get to look forward to the next lottery. As is noted later, the rich denizens of Urland tend to buy their way out of the lottery, so it’s only ever the poor daughters who get sacrificed to the giant lizard.

Seeking some way out of their present situation, a small group of Urlanders, led by the scrappy Valerian (Caitlin Clarke), go to see the all-powerful wizard Ulrich (Ralph Richardson), paying a visit to his creepy, isolated castle. Ulrich may be cantankerous, forgetful and given to rather vague proclamations but he’s also the only wizard left in the land and someone has to be able to take on the dragon. Upon examining one of the dragon’s recovered scales, Ulrich notes that the beast is ancient: it must be decrepit, miserable, in constant pain and spiteful. In other words, Ulrich recognizes a kindred spirit and offers his services, along with those of his loyal apprentice, Galen (Peter MacNicol, of Ally McBeal fame): he’ll take out the dragon, as requested, although his reasons seem to involve ending its pain as much as saving Urland.

As the group is about to set out for Urland, disaster strikes in the form of Tyrian (John Hallam), King Casiodorus’ blood-thirsty man-at-arms. Tyrian and his men have been sent by the King to prevent the citizens from “stirring the pot,” as it were: the King quite likes the delicate balance in the kingdom, particularly since it doesn’t really impact his family and is worried that a pissed-off dragon might mistake unacceptable rich folks as snacks versus the court-approved poor slobs. In the guise of testing Ulrich’s powers, Tyrian ends up killing him, seeming to put an end to the quest before it even leaves the castle’s front yard. Luckily for the Urlanders, Galen is a plucky young lad and, with the assistance of Ulrich’s faithful manservant, Hodge (Sydney Bromley), he eagerly offers to take up the quest himself. He might not be an all-powerful wizard, like Ulrich, or a steel-nerved swordsman like Tyrian but he has something that neither of them had: really frizzy hair. He also has a magic amulet, which will probably prove useful, and a sack full of Ulrich’s ashes but the hair, presumably, is what makes the difference.

Along the way, Galen comes to the shocking realization that Valerian is actually a young lady, after a skinny-dipping incident in which he notices that her hidden parts look different from his. In a rather awesome parallel, this actually seems to tie Dragonslayer in with Just One of the Guys (1985), a stereotypical ’80s comedy in which a young lady impersonates a young man in order to get the scoop on a high school football team: how’s that for synergy? Galen and Valerian banter back and forth and, despite an ever so brief moment where it appears that Elspeth and Galen might hook up, it should be pretty clear that this couple is “meant to be.”

Back at Urland, Galen comes across as a bit of a jackass: in a bid to impress everyone and bring a hasty conclusion to the nasty business, he causes a landslide to bury the dragon’s cave opening. After the dust clears, Galen wipes off his hands, beams and waits for the applause to roll in. The King isn’t quite as overjoyed with this development, however, for reasons already mentioned, and has Galen thrown right into the dungeon. If the young whelp is right and the dragon is dead, the King will release him and throw him a party. If, however, Galen just ended up pissing off the dragon, as the King suspected, Galen will be choosing the prize behind Door Number 2: a swift execution. When the dragon makes an appearance, opting for a real scorched-earth policy, all signs point to Galen being kinda screwed. Fear not, faithful readers: this is a Disney movie, after all, and good must eventually succeed over evil. Freed from his prison, Galen must use all of his training and courage, along with some able support from Valerian and his magic amulet, to finally destroy the dragon and free the kingdom. Sometimes, however, young pluck is not enough to overcome ancient evil. Sometimes, you really do need a hero…or a wizard.

For a time, in the early-mid ’80s, Disney seemed to be trying to break from their squeaky-clean image with a group of films that were decidedly darker, more “mature” and violent than previous films. This trend seemed to begin with the ultra-dark, sci-fi epic The Black Hole (1979) and would continue with The Watcher in the Woods (1980), Dragonslayer, Something Wicked This Way Comes (1983), The Journey of Natty Gann (1985), The Black Cauldron (1985) and Return to Oz (1985). Eventually, Disney would create Touchstone Pictures to handle these “more adult” films, scrubbing a bit of the mire off Disney’s tarnished “innocence.” In certain ways, then, Dragonslayer is a bit of a watershed moment in that it reflected a fundamental change in the Disney ideal, during the early ’80s. It’s also notable for its consistently impressive special effects, effects which earned it an Oscar nomination for Visual Effects, which it lost to some forgotten film named Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981).

Without a doubt, the effects in Dragonslayer are pretty amazing, especially for the time, even if they might seem a bit dated by modern standard. In at least one instance, however, the effects in Dragonslayer seem to be at least the equal of modern films: as the dragon rears up and blasts Galen with a huge stream of fire, we get a truly awe-inspiring wide shot of the action. With the dragon occupying one side of the frame and Galen and his enormous shield occupying the other side, the shot looks just as beautiful and immaculately composed as any illustration or painting, with the added benefit of the cinematic sense of motion and space. Tt’s a heady moment that absolutely thrilled me and was, I’m pretty sure, at least 70% responsible for my previous love of the film. Bottom line: it’s a fantastic shot that could easily compete with the best of Jackson, Cameron, et al.

In general, the effects work (by Industrial Light and Magic) is strictly top-notch, featuring a great use of puppetry (the aforementioned dragon pups), a really neat flaming lake location and the dragon, itself, which ends up looking just as realistic, in close-up, as many of the dinosaurs in Spielberg’s groundbreaking Jurassic Park (1993). While the effects are never less than stupendous, the image, itself, can be a little dark, at times, or given to a “bleary-smeary” filter effect that makes it seem as if the viewer is mildly intoxicated. I didn’t mind the occasionally too dark image, since it really complimented the film’s atmosphere, but the bleary lens got a little tiresome: at times, this felt like one of those old Liz Taylor perfume ads with a Vaseline-smeared camera lens.

As with other films in Disney’s “dark era,” Dragonslayer doesn’t shy away from more graphic material. The bit where Ulrich is killed is a little disturbing, as is the scene where Tyrian murders Hodge, but neither of them really compare to the later scene where the baby dragons end up eating one of the main characters alive. As this was one of the very few aspects of the film that I could (kinda/sorta) recall from my childhood, I’m pretty sure that it made a big impression on me. Whether it’s responsible for any of my current morbidity is an issue up for debate, of course, but I’m sure it at least contributed. The film also features some brief, full nudity, thanks to Valerian’s skinny-dipping scene, which was probably a bit of a concern for parents who took their children to, presumably, the newest Disney family film. By comparison, try to remember the last time you saw full female nudity in a Disney film: I’m betting you can’t come up with anything. While this element adds nothing whatsoever to the story (although it does provide for a nifty visual reveal of Valerian’s true identity), it certainly gives the proceedings a more “mature” quality.

The acting in Dragonslayer is decent, if more than a little hammy, at times (which is perfectly in line with almost every sword and sorcery film of the ’80s, to be honest). Peter Eyre is kind of a fidgety mess as the king (he is one severely weird lookin’ dude, let me tell ya) but John Hallam is pretty great as Tyrian, playing his character as such an unrepentant son of a bitch that his final battle with Galen has some real emotional potency to it: we really, really want to see Galen kick his ass in a most righteous manner. Ralph Richardson is a more than suitable Ulrich and there may even be hints of the Ian McKellen version of Gandalf in his quirky idiosyncrasies. Finally, Peter MacNicol and Caitlin Clarke make a pretty cute couple as Galen and Valerian but I never quite bought MacNicol as a hero: he was always too goofy and self-deprecating, less like someone thrust into a dangerous situation and more like someone goofing around to kill time. Clarke, for her part, makes a suitably spunky heroine but her mid-film transformation into an “actual” young woman is one of those eye-rolling “Ugly Duckling” moments where removing someone’s glasses and letting her hair down transforms said person into Helen of Troy. It’s silly and clichéd but, at the very least, the filmmakers skewer the convention a little by having Galen pull her onto the “dance-floor” as a medieval band strikes up a “tune.” While Valerian’s “transformation” is old hat, this parallel with more conventional teenage romances seemed to be rather subversively clever. At the very least, I got a good chuckle out of it.

While the action occasionally gets a bit silly, writer-director Matthew Robbins tends to keep things fairly straight-faced and a little less bombastic than the competition. Robbins would go on to direct The Legend of Billie Jean (1985) and *batteries not included (1987), although he’ll probably be best known as a writer: he had a hand in the scripts for The Sugarland Express (1974), Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977), MacArthur (1977) and Mimic (1997) and is currently attached to Guillermo del Toro’s upcoming Crimson Peak horror project. Robbins’ script for Dragonslayer isn’t amazing but it is rather tightly plotted and features several genuinely thrilling beats, moments which are replicated pretty exceptionally in the film, itself. Again, while nothing exceptional, Robbins brings a sure and steady hands to the proceedings which certainly gives the film a little added weight.

To return to my original question, however: did the film hold up for me after all these years? Absolutely. While it wasn’t amazing (with the exception of that wonderful dragon/Galen shot and the mean scene where the dragon pups chow down), Dragonslayer is consistently good, easily the better of other films in that particular subgenre like The Sword and the Sorcerer (1982), The Beastmaster (1982), Krull (1983) and Deathstalker (1983). I was particularly taken by the film’s dark, mysterious look (those damned Vasoline shots notwithstanding) and must admit that the superb final fight did make me feel like a kid again: it’s the best kind of ass-kicking, fantasy-badassery and ends the film on an enthusiastically high note. Throw in some last-minute, but no less timely, observations about the ways in which both religions and governments tend to take credit for the work of others and you have a film that sets a pretty high bar and manages, for the most part, to hit its marks.

Dragonslayer isn’t the best ’80s sword and sorcery film by a long-shot (that is, was and always will be Conan the Barbarian, with honorable mention going to John Boorman’s batshit-nuts Excalibur (1981), a film so insane that it belongs in its own category altogether) but that doesn’t prevent it from being superbly entertaining in its own right. Matthew Robbin’s film is a reminder of the days when fantastical worlds weren’t necessarily a given in the world of film and viewers had to work a little harder to get that suspension of disbelief. It’s a little more work, to be sure, but I think the rewards are a little bigger, too.

 

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1/20/14: Farewell to Your Future Self

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12 Monkeys, action films, Blade Runner, Boreno, Brick, Bruce Willis, chase films, cinema, closing the loop, Conan the Barbarian, drama, dystopian future, Farewell to the King, Film auteurs, films, grim future, headhunter tribes, historical dramas, hitmen, island paradises, Japanese fleet in the Pacific, John Milius, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, jungle combat, kings, Looper, Movies, Nick Nolte, Rian Johnson, romance, sci-fi, telekinesis, Terry Gilliam, The Big Lebowski, The Brothers Bloom, The Rainmaker, time travel, war films, World War II

After beginning the day with a couple of Oscar-nominated documentaries, I figured that I’d end it with a film where Nick Nolte becomes king of Borneo and Bruce Willis and Joseph Gordon-Levitt share the same face. Welcome to the world I live in, ladies and gentlemen: it’s a strange one.

First of all, take a moment (or two) to marvel at the glory that is the above poster for Farewell the King. Nolte giving his best Blue Steel…burning huts…lots of buff dudes with machine guns…that, my friends, is what we commonly call one kickass film poster. Doesn’t matter what the film is about: a peep at that one-sheet and I’d hightail it to the theater post-haste!

Now that your eyes have been bathed in badassery, let’s take a look at the fella that wrote and directed Farewell to the King: John Milius. You might know him as the guy that wrote and directed Conan the Barbarian (ie: the awesome one) and the original Red Dawn. You might also know him as the guy who wrote the screenplays for Dirty Harry, Magnum Force, Apocalypse Now, Jeremiah Johnson and A Clear and Present Danger. Or perhaps you know him as the creator of the cable show Rome. Barring that, you may know him (peripherally) as the inspiration for John Goodman’s Walter in The Big Lebowski. Now…taking a look at all of these disparate pieces that make up John Milius, can you take a wild guess at what awaits within Farewell to the King? Yes, friends and neighbors: we’re about to enter the mystical kingdom of Testosteronia.

Due to my father, I was a huge fan of Milius before I ever knew it. Growing up, the Dirty Harry series was just about the closest thing we got to the gospels: I’d already seen the entire series by the time I was a pre-teen and I pretty much had the first two, Dirty Harry and Magnum Force, memorized. I was also completely obsessed with sword-and-sorcery stuff by that point, so Excalibur and Conan the Barbarian got watched at least once a day. Add to that my equally hardcore interest in Apocalypse Now and I was, essentially, an intense Milius fan that had absolutely no idea who the dude was. Classic me, as it were.

As far as plot goes, Farewell to the King is equally as gonzo as anything in Milius’ back-catalog. A British officer and his radio operator land in Borneo, during World War II, in order to whip up local support against Japanese forces in the area. They find a friendly response from a local tribe only to wake up the next morning as captives: it seems that these natives might be the kind normally found in old jungle epics. The difference, however, is that those other tribes didn’t have Nick Nolte as their king.

You see, Nolte was an American soldier during the war, taken prisoner by the Japanese but escaped to the jungles of Borneo. Once there, he was taken captive by the local tribe of headhunters, saved from being turned over to the Japanese due to his dreamy blue eyes (no joke: the women of the village stage a revolt because they can “see the ocean” in his peepers…what a dreamboat!), became leader of the tribe after beating their chief at deadly hand-to-hand combat, fell in love and married one of the locals and managed to unite all of the smaller tribes in the area into one mega-tribe (of which he’s chief, natch). Whew! That is one busy Mystical White Man there, isn’t it!

Learoyd (Nolte) is pretty sure that he can just ignore the rest of World War II: after all, he has a pretty wife, several children, a really cool tropical paradise and the complete adoration of his people…why does he wanna stomp around the jungle and shoot Japanese soldiers? As the British officer gently explains, however, just because you choose to ignore the war doesn’t mean the war chooses to ignore you. Before long, Learoyd is thrown headfirst into the conflict, proceeding full throttle down a path that will lead to glorious victory, staggering defeat, mysterious cannibalistic Japanese ghost regiments, betrayal, mean Australians, Gen. MacArthur and, ultimately, sovereignty.

If it couldn’t be handily discerned from the above plot description, Farewell to the King is a deeply silly, if wildly entertaining, film. It operates along the same sort of wish-fulfillment scenario as Costner’s Dances with Wolves (white guy shows up and teaches the natives to be the best natives they can possibly be). It would be a much more offensive scenario if Milius’ film wasn’t so amiable and good-natured. It’s quite obvious that the natives stand head-and-shoulders above everything else (especially the Australians, who come across so loutishly as to make one wonder if this wasn’t some particular bias of Milius’). For one thing, they’re pretty much the only group that never betrays Learoyd (which can’t be said for the British). For the other, the village scenes are shot with such a sense of sun-dappled wonder that, especially as compared to the dreary jungle combat scenes, it pretty clear where the film would rather be spending its summer vacation.

Ultimately, there’s really one main reason to hunt this flick down (unless you happen to be a Milius’ completest or tropical island enthusiast): the marvelous Nick Nolte. It’s quite wonderful to witness Nolte in all of his buffed-out, leonine glory, especially when he manages to take the character to levels normally reserved for the Nic known as Cage. He strikes a terrific balance of level-headed, village elder and wild-eyed Bornean Rambo and it really works. Less successful, possibly by contrast, is the British officer, played by Nigel Havers. Havers spends most of the film looking sheepish, as if he’s constantly preparing to apologize for something. There are times when the approach works for the character but it usually has the effect of making his Capt. Fairbourne somewhat of a non-entity.

So what do you get with Farewell to the King? Well, you get some pumped-up, patriotic, Green Berets-style jungle fighting. You get Nick Nolte as the leader of a nation of headhunters in Borneo. You get some nice drama, a little character development (but not too much, mind you), plenty of action sequences and a simply gorgeous location. You get a loopy performance from John Bennett Perry (aka Matthew Perry’s dad) as Gen. MacArthur. You even get an evil, cannibalistic Japanese military unit, for good measure. In short, you get the full Milius treatment.

While it’s not my favorite genre, I’m definitely someone who enjoys a good sci-fi flick. In particular, I find myself really enjoying smaller, quirkier, more indie science fiction fare such as Primer, Timecrimes, Moon, Europa Report and Cube. I’ve got nothing, really, against the big tent-pole versions: I grew up on Star Wars and enjoyed The Matrix and Inception. There’s just something about a quieter, weirder sci-fi experience that really appeals to me. When I heard that Rian Johnson was going to be trying his hand at a sci-fi film, I knew this would be a must-see.

I’ve been a huge fan of Rian ever since Brick, a brilliant high school noir that also starred Joseph Gordon-Levitt. He followed that up with The Brothers Bloom, a film so magical and wonderful that I had to keep checking and make sure that Terry Gilliam didn’t create it under a pseudonym. With those two films, I knew that I’d be paying a visit to whatever particular world Rian decided to create next. While sci-fi seemed a little left-field, especially after the magical realism of Brothers Bloom, I had faith, faith which was handily rewarded.

Looper posits a slightly dystopian future, a sort of Blade Runner-lite with hover bikes, drone irrigation systems, telekinesis and time travel. It’s not quite the brave new world we might’ve once imagined, however: telekinesis is pretty much handily written off as “a bunch of assholes floating quarters” and time travel is outlawed, used only by criminal organizations as a way of dumping unwanted corpses in the past. We’ve come so far, you see, but stayed so very close to home.

We meet Joe (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), one of the hitmen known as Loopers, who are responsible for carrying out these contracts. Loopers have it pretty good, all things considered, right up until the time they outlive their welcome. Once this happens, their bosses send the Looper’s future self through the time machine, where the past Looper will, essentially, kill himself, “closing the loop.” At first glance, the mechanics of this seem rather unwieldy, leading one to wonder whether this will be a film akin to Primer (a brilliant film, mind you, but kind of like sitting through a graduate-level physics seminar while still in middle school biology). But fear not, as Joe will later say to himself: “I don’t wanna talk about time travel stuff cuz if we do, we’ll be here all day.” Johnson gives us just enough science to hang our hats on but not enough to hang us, preferring the let the central conflict do the heavy lifting.

And what a conflict. You see, one day, Joe’s future self comes through the portal. Loopers are trained to expect that day and not hesitate: it’s their version of retirement, essentially. Not killing your future self is generally frowned on, as that results in two of you running amok in the same time period. Joe, of course, hesitates just long enough on that fateful day to allow his future self (Bruce Willis) to kick the crap out of him and head for the hills. Present Joe must now track down Future Joe in order to close his own loop, all the while avoiding the shady underworld characters that employ him. Future Joe, for his part, has a mission: he needs to find and kill the mysterious crime boss, known only as The Rainmaker, who ordered his termination, an act which resulted in the death of Future Joe’s beloved wife. If he can do this, Future Joe believes, in can change the course of time and alter the outcome. Present Joe can’t let that happen, leading to a Joe vs Joe fighting extravaganza.

There’s quite a bit more to Looper than what the above indicates but uncovering the film’s many twists and turns is part of its charm. This is a film that manages to not only marry the past parts of Johnson’s short career (the noir-isms of Brick and the magical realism of Brothers Bloom) into a thoroughly cohesive whole but to include wholly new elements to the mix. Tonally, the film really reminded me of Gilliam’s 12 Monkeys, especially once it began to delve into the truth behind The Rainmaker. This is certainly not an influence I could have seen in his earlier films but the parallelism(especially once we factor Willis into the mix) really works and makes me genuinely excited to see what other new tricks are up his sleeve.

As could be expected, JGL and Willis are outstanding. JGL, in particular, deserves special praise for his portrayal of young Joe. There is, obviously, some makeup used to enhance the physical resemblance between the two actors but that in no way should take focus from JGL’s performance. He becomes Willis in such a perfect way, from the way he walks to the way he holds his head and the subtle inflections in his voice, that it’s one of the most dizzying bits of screen fakery I’ve seen in ages. His first appearance took my breath away and it’s impossible for me to think that the same amount of praise and admiration currently bestowed upon Joaquin Phoenix won’t be granted twenty-fold to Gordon-Levitt. It really is an amazing performance, so full of pathos and emotion, yet so subtle, that it reminded me of something I’d kind of taken for granted: Joseph Gordon-Levitt is one hell of an actor.

As is Willis, of course, channeling the same kind of wounded intensity that made his performance in the aforementioned 12 Monkeys so riveting. Cocky, self-assured Bruce Willis is a mighty kickass dude. Quiet, brooding Bruce Willis, however, often makes for a better film. His interplay with JGL is great, especially in a diner sit-down that seems to parody the inevitable “meeting of the twins” scene in like-minded films. I still buy Willis as an action hero, to a point, and Looper makes sure not to cross that point in any manner as egregious as the Expendables films. For his part, JGL convincingly pulls off the action-oriented material, leaving one to hope for more roles like this in his future.

As a whole, the film works exceptionally well. The special effects scenes, especially one involving a bonkers version of one of those “assholes floating quarters” doing a whole lot more than that, are excellent and many of the kinetic fight sequences reminded me of the fights in The Matrix, although much less flashy. There are some really deep issues explored here, issues that help make the powerful ending particularly resonant. Rather than being brazenly manipulative, the ending comes organically from the journey that Present Joe has been on, allowing it to seem more natural than mechanical.

At the end of the day, I found myself liking Looper quite a bit, maybe even more than Inception, despite the more ambitious scope of Nolan’s film. Like Brick, Looper is a tightly-plotted examination of loss, responsibility and moral obligation, a film that is not afraid to ask (or answer) some pretty big questions. It also manages to wrap science fiction into a noir cloak in a way not seen since those fabled attack ships were on fire, somewhere over by Orion.