12/27/14 (Part Three): Stop Dragon My Heart Around

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adventure, archaeologists, Bjørn Sundquist, CGI, children in peril, cinema, Daniel Voldheim, dragons, eggs, family films, fantasy, father-daughter relationships, film reviews, films, flashbacks, foreign films, John Kåre Raake, Julian Podolski, Jurassic Park, Magnus Beite, Maria Annette Tanderø Berglyd, Mikkel Brænne Sandemose, Movies, mythical creatures, Nicolai Cleve Broch, Norwegian films, Oseberg Vikings, Pål Sverre Hagen, Ragnarok, set in Norway, single father, Sofia Helin, Steven Spielberg, Terje Strømdahl, Vikings

For many folks of a particular age, the term “adventure film” will always be synonymous with one thing: Steven Spielberg. Throughout the ’70s, ’80s and ’90s, the auteur was directly responsible for some of the biggest, most iconic adventure films of those eras: Jaws (1975), Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977), Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981), Indiana Jones & the Temple of Doom (1984), Indiana Jones and Last Crusade (1989), Hook (1991) and Jurassic Park (1993). This, of course, doesn’t include all of the iconic adventure films that he produced but didn’t direct during the same time-period: Poltergeist (1982), Gremlins (1984), The Goonies (1985), Back to the Future (1985), Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988) and Arachnophobia (1990), among many, many others. Regardless of how you, personally, feel about his films, there’s no denying that Spielberg has practically been a cottage industry for the past forty years…no mean feat, if you think about it.

Despite his massively impressive history with adventure films, however, we haven’t had a whole lot of Spielberg adventure movies since The Lost World (1997): there have been a few, such as Minority Report (2002) and War of the Worlds (2005) but, for the most part, Spielberg has turned his attention to “prestige” films like Amistad (1997), Saving Private Ryan (1998), Munich (2005) and Lincoln (2012) since the Aughts and doesn’t really show signs of stopping anytime soon. For people who miss Spielberg’s brand of high-octane, family friendly, effects-spectacles, there doesn’t really seem to be much that’s filled the void…until now, that is. If you’re looking for big, fantastic adventure, look no further than Norwegian director Mikkel Brænne Sandemose’s Ragnarok (2013), a big, colorful and exuberant adventure yarn that recalls films like André Øvredal’s Trollhunter (2010) in subject matter but more closely resembles Spielberg yarns like Jaws, The Goonies and, especially, Jurassic Park, in tone and execution.

After an extremely effective medieval-set opening that helps establish the film’s mythology, Ragnarok wastes no time in introducing us to our intrepid hero, single-father and Viking history expert Sigurd (Pål Sverre Hagen). Sigurd genuinely his two young kids, Ragnhild (Maria Annette Tanderø Berglyd) and Brage (Julian Podolski) but he’s far from the best father in the world: absent-minded and completely obsessed with finding some connection between the Oseberg Vikings and the mythical Ragnarok, Sigurd is the kind of father who remembers to pick his children up from school after they’ve been waiting for hours and plans family vacations based around archaeological digs.

After Sigurd’s partner, Allan (Nicolai Cleve Broch), shows up with a Viking runestone, Sigurd finally gets the confirmation he needs and the group has a new destination: the mysterious “Eye of Odin,” an island-within a lake-within a volcano that’s got to be one of the coolest locations for an adventure film, ever. Once there, sparks (the good kind) fly between Sigurd and Allan’s comely assistant, Elisabeth (Sofia Helin). There are also sparks flying between Sigurd and Allan’s guide, Leif (Bjørn Sundquist), although these are definitely the “wrong” kind: Leif thinks the whole expedition is beyond ridiculous and treats Sigurd like a dumb kid, which tends to make Sigurd kinda pissy. In other words: the circle of movie antagonism.

Once at the Eye of Odin, Sigurd and the others begin to unearth evidence that Sigurd was absolutely correct in his speculations: not only did the Oseberg Vikings land in Finnmark, as he postulated, but the group is able to find plenty of evidence of their passing, including preserved helmets and weapons…score! The group also finds evidence to support not only the one-time existence of the monstrous Ragnarok but its current well-being, as well. Faster than you can say “Jurassic Park,” Sigurd, his kids, Elisabeth, Allan and Leif are on the run from something that should only exist in fairytales, yet has somehow attained massive, terrifying life. It will take all of Sigurd’s skills, wits and extensive knowledge of Viking lore to survive the day but he’ll be damned if any of his family are going to become dragon snacks. Is the Ragnarok really as terrible as it seems, however, or is there more going on here than meets the eye?

Gorgeously shot, suitably thrilling and filled with lots of well-executed CGI and visual effects, Ragnarok is a decided throwback to Spielberg’s aforementioned adventure film glory days, yet never comes off as slavish imitation. The whole film definitely has the feel of a family film, with the vast majority of the film’s violence occurring off-screen. In fact, there’s nothing here that really pushes the PG-13 rating, save one brief shot of a corpse that directly recalls the similar jump-shock in Jaws (which, as we’ll all recall, was rated PG). In many ways, Ragnarok is sort of an update of Jurassic Park: absent-minded, absentee dad and precocious kids must survive an attack by giant reptiles while bonding and becoming closer to each other. Throw in a romantic angle, some double-crosses and betrayal (always to be expected), truly jaw-dropping locations and the parallels seem pretty obvious.

While Pål Sverre Hagen is dependable as Sigurd, Sofia Helin handily steals the film as the ever-resourceful, ass-kicking Elisabeth. Indeed, Elisabeth is pretty much single-handily responsible for saving the entire group on multiple occasions (including a thoroughly awesome setpiece involving crossing a chasm via rope) and Heflin is a mighty great action star: I can’t wait to see her in other films after this. Berglyd and Podolski are good as the kids, although neither one brings anything unique or revolutionary to the performances.

The real star of the show, however, aside from Heflin, is cinematographer Daniel Voldheim’s stunning camera-work. The various Norwegian locales never look anything less than beautiful and the cave sequences make excellent use of light and shadow to create some spectacularly atmospheric scenes. Also noteworthy is composer Magnus Beite’s highly effective score: it’s no patch on any of John Williams’ iconic scores but it is exciting, moving and just bombastic enough to effortlessly sell the big action beats.

Ultimately, I found myself quite taken with Ragnarok: there’s a genuinely old-fashioned quality to the film that I really enjoyed and I found it to favorably compare to some of my favorite adventure films from the past. Sandemose’s film may not be the most original film of the year but it’s got a helluva lot of heart and a genuine desire to thrill its audience. I’d like to think that ’80s Spielberg would have been a big fan, too.

6/10/14 (Part Two): Sherlock Holmes, Mandarin-Style

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action films, ancient China, Andy Lau, Angela Yeung Wing, Angelababy, Bum Kim, Carina Lau, CGI, Chinese films, cinema, court intrigue, Detective Dee, Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame, dragons, Empress Wu, fantasy, Film, film reviews, flashbacks, foreign films, Gengxin Lin, Imperial China, Indiana Jones, James Bond, Mark Chao, Movies, naval battles, period-piece, prequel, romances, sea monster, Shaofeng Feng, Sherlock Holmes, Tang Dynasty, tea, Tsui Hark, voice-over narration, Young Detective Dee: Rise of the Sea Dragon, younger version of main character

Even though I knew nothing about it going in, I really ended up enjoying Tsui Hark’s big-budget mystery/fantasy Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame (2010). The film was a gorgeous bit of eye-candy that managed to throw Sherlock Holmes-style crime analysis, wire-fu martial arts acrobatics and pure adventure-fantasy, ala Indiana Jones, into a blender. Anchored by a genuinely cool hero in the form of Andy Lau’s Detective Dee and some righteously astounding stunt work, the movie felt like a throwback to the ’80s fantasy epics that I grew up, although with some decidedly modern flourishes (Tsui Hark tends to be a “kitchen-sink” kind of filmmaker, which suits this kind of story to a t). When Tsui Hark released the prequel, Young Detective Dee: Rise of the Sea Dragon (2013), I relished the opportunity to return to his particular vision of ancient China. How would this stack up with the first film? With a new lead replacing Andy Lau (this is, after all, “young” Detective Dee), would the film still find its human center or would everything get swallowed up in the visuals? As a prequel, would this tell me anything new about Dee? Would the new film have any setpieces to rival the giant Buddah statue scene from the first film? And, most importantly: was there actually going to be a dragon?

We begin back in Imperial China, during the Tang Dynasty, in 665 AD. Dee (Mark Chau) isn’t even a detective yet but he is determined to make his mark in the city of Woyang. Some massive sea monster has completely destroyed the imperial fleet and scared the crap out of the superstitious populace, leading the all-powerful Empress Wu (Carina Lau, reprising her role from the first film) to take some decisive action. To that end, she gives Yuchi (Shaofeng Feng), the head of the Justice Department, a pretty simple order: get to the bottom of the Sea Dragon “nonsense” or die trying. While in the city, Dee happens to overhear a group of shady individuals planning to kidnap Yin Ruiji (Angelababy), the courtesan who is the planned sacrifice for the feisty sea monster. Dee rushes to the nearby temple to intervene, leading to his first confrontation with Yuchi and his Da Lisi security force. This also leads to our first introduction to another kind of monster: some sort of “Creature From the Black Lagoon”-type fishman appears and starts to wreck holy hell on the wannabe kidnappers. Yin Ruiji is saved, the kidnappers are vanquished and the fishman escapes. Slightly peeved at the outsider’s interference, Yuchi rewards Dee’s assistance by tossing him in lockup.

Once in jail, Dee ends up escaping with the able help of young doctor’s assistant Shatuo (Gengxin Lin), who Dee sways to his side via some rather ingenious Sherlock Holmes-style deduction. When Dee ends up foiling yet another kidnapping attempt on Ruiji, he’s promptly promoted up into the Da Lisi and given control of the Sea Dragon case. This, of course, doesn’t make Yuchi particularly happy but it sure as hell beats getting his head cut off. As Dee, Shatuo and Yuchi continue to investigate the case, other elements begin to come into play, including a potential spy within the Da Lisi, themselves. They also come to the realization that the Creature From the Woyang Lagoon is actually Yuan Zhen (Bum Kim), the formerly hunky owner of the Tranquility Teahouse and Yu Ruiji’s vanished boyfriend. Yuan has been turned into a monster thanks to some nasty parasites and it all appears to have something to do with his teahouse’s connection to the royal family: the entire royal court drink Tranquility Teahouse’s special “Bird’s Tongue Tea” by the bucketful and Dee deduces that the royals might be the actual targets here. Suffice to say that the actual conspiracy is a pretty baroque one, certainly befitting of a James Bond film and involves an assassination attempt, transformation, a misguided attempt to foster peace that’s actually an attempt to take over the world (in disguise), an honest-to-god sea monster, the healing power of eunuch urine, true love and the beginning of a legend.

Despite some truly silly, over-the-top moments, Rise of the Sea Dragon is a more than worthy successor to The Mystery of the Phantom Flame. While Andy Lau’s older Detective Dee is the calm, clear-headed master crime-solver, Mark Chao’s younger Dee is a more brash, reactive presence and the contrast works spectacularly well. There’s an actual progression that happens throughout the film, a character arc for Dee that finds him becoming someone much closer to the Dee we came to know in the first film. This allows Chao to play Dee in his own fashion, which ends up being just as rock-solid reliable as Lau’s version. This isn’t necessarily even a case of Sean Connery vs Roger Moore: Chao doesn’t play Dee like a different person, just a younger person..it’s a subtle but important difference. As with any large-scale film of this nature, such as the aforementioned Indiana Jones films, it’s vitally important to have a strong, memorable central character and Rise of the Sea Dragon delivers just as capably as Phantom Flame did.

The rest of the cast is strong, with Shaofeng Feng being particularly good as Dee’s rival, Yuchi. Yuchi could have come across as a stereotypical antagonist but Feng gives him enough personality and humility to make him stand out. While you occasionally get the impression that he’s giving Dee the business “just because,” Yuchi almost always seems to operate from a slightly higher moral field: the bit where he finally breaks down and gives Dee the horse is a nice touch because it doesn’t symbolize the clichéd “Let’s be buddies” aspect of films so much as it does a tacit acceptance of Dee’s place in the system. By the time that Yuchi and Dee are fighting side by side, their camaraderie actually feels justified rather than situational.

From a spectacle standpoint, Rise of the Sea Dragon delivers the goods time and time again. Even though the film appears to have been originally intended as a 3D presentation (I lost count of the number of things that jabbed towards the screen at any given time), the cinematography is absolutely gorgeous and crystal clear, revealing ever bit of action is Hark’s stuffed-to-bursting frames. The underwater scenes, in particular, are some of the clearest and most well-defined I’ve ever seen. There are just as many breathless setpieces as in the first film, including some suitably thrilling maritime fight sequences, and the design on the Sea Dragon is excellent and fairly unique. All of the (numerous) fight sequences have a nice sense of staging and blocking to them that makes the complicated acrobatics easy to follow and keeps everything grounded (in a figurative rather than literal sense) with an overall sense of real physical action. One of my favorite scenes in some time has to be the one where Dee and Yuchi fight the villainous Huo Yi while suspended over a bottomless chasm: it’s not only great to look at but so ingeniously staged that the fight becomes something akin to a ballet. Despite the occasionally overly glossy visuals (think next-generation videogame cut-scenes), most of the film takes place in a space that feels at least as real as Peter Jackson’s Middle Earth.

The film also utilizes a style similar to the “information overload” aspect of Guy Ritchie’s recent Sherlock Holmes films: we gently plenty of sidebars, charts, graphs, text-on-screen, etc. At one point, Dee hits someone and we zoom into their body for an up-close and personal look at how the bone is going to break. As a rule, I tend to find stuff like this rather distracting in a film, especially when utilized in the manner that Ritchie did for Sherlock Holmes (2009): truth be told, I really can’t stand that film, mostly for this selfsame reason. While I found the technique to be little distracting in The Mystery of the Phantom Flame, Hark seems to have integrated it better within the follow-up. Although it’s still an overly flashy stylistic trick, I was willing to cut it a little more slack this time around. Whether that says more about me mellowing or the film itself remains to be seen but perhaps it’s time to give ol’ Sherlock another try.

While the unnecessary voice-over narration and occasionally silly aspects scuff the polish on Rise of the Sea Dragon just a tad, it was never enough to affect my overall enjoyment of the film. Whereas I went into the first film completely unprepared, I came to Rise of the Sea Dragon with a particular set of expectations, expectations which the film resoundingly met. I’ve always been a sucker for huge, epic fantasy adventures and Young Detective Dee: Rise of the Sea Dragon fits the bill in almost every way. At this point, I hope Hark continues his Detective Dee films into the distant future, turning this character into a Chinese form of James Bond. Hell, in many ways, the films are almost there: Cool, charismatic hero who’s great under pressure? Check. Lots of conspiracy and spy intrigue? Check. Memorable villains with secret island fortresses and plots to rule the world? Check. Plenty of thrilling action sequences? Check. A steel-toothed thug named Jaws? Not yet but give ’em time: this is only the second film, after all. I have a feeling that Tsui Hark still has a few more tricks up his sleeve…I don’t think we’ve seen the last of Detective Dee in these here parts.

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.

 

2/23/14: The Long, Long, Long and Winding Road

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Andy Serkis, based on a book, Bilbo Baggins, CGI, Christopher Lee, cinema, dragons, dwarves, elves, epic, fantasy, Film, film reviews, Gandalf the Grey, giant spiders, Ian McKellen, J.R.R. Tolkien, long films, Lord of the Rings, Martin Freeman, Middle Earth, Movies, orcs, Peter Jackson, Richard Armitage, Saruman, Smaug, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, Thorin, trilogies, wizards

As a child, one of my favorite, most beloved films was the Rankin/Bass animated version of The Hobbit. If I watched that damn thing a thousand times, I must have watched it at least ten thousand times. I loved absolutely everything about it: the animation style, the awesome action scenes, the great soundtrack. To this day, I can’t help but smile every time I think of the film and will frequently find myself humming Glenn Yarbrough excellent theme song, “The Greatest Adventure” out of nowhere. The 1977 version of Tolkien’s classic story may not be perfect but it was perfect enough to be the only version I needed while growing up (aside from the original book, of course).

Since I have such an emotional, nostalgic connection to the original cartoon, I was actually anything but eager to sample Peter Jackson’s newest adaptation. The reasons for this end up having a little to do with wanting to preserve my cherished memories but more to do with my own preconceived notions as to what Jackson would actually do with the rather modest source material. Although I enjoyed Jackson’s panoramic, exhaustive treatment of The Lord of the Rings series, I was more than a little afraid that he would attempt to inflate The Hobbit to the same extremes. Whereas Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings practically screams for a huge, larger-than-life adaptation, The Hobbit is a much smaller affair. Perfect for a single session, I was worried that Jackson would drown his adaptation in minutiae, turning in the equivalent of a super-sized bit of fan service. After all: when the story can be told effectively in one sitting, what could be the possible benefit of expanding and separating it out into three separate pieces (aside from the inherent financial benefit of selling three separate films)? Unfortunately, after finishing the first installment of Jackson’s new trilogy, I find that my previous fears were all well-founded: while An Unexpected Journey has moments of brilliance, it’s also bloated, leaden and more overly-reliant on CGI than any of Jackson’s previous films. After finishing the film (or the first third, as it were), I was left with one over-riding impression: sometimes, less can be much, much more. And much better.

By this point in the history of the world, we should all be (more or less) familiar with the basic story of The Hobbit. Bilbo Baggins (Martin Freeman), a comfortably mundane hobbit with a modest home, is recruited by Gandalf the Grey (Ian McKellen) to assist a group of dwarves in reclaiming their ancestral home from the massive dragon that drove them from it in the first place. Bilbo, being a hobbit, is less than happy with the idea of anything resembling danger or adventure. As time (and the journey) go on, however, Bilbo will learn the true meaning of courage and will eventually grow into the hero, albeit modest, that Gandalf always knew him to be. Along the way, he’ll meet elves, trolls, a particularly nasty spider named Shelob and, eventually, the dragon named Smaug.

Tolkien’s The Hobbit may be many things but it is, primarily, the story of Bilbo learning to be courageous and self-sufficient. Perhaps the biggest sin of Jackson’s version of The Hobbit is how little it actually seems to be about its titular character. Truth be told, An Unexpected Journey seems to be the story of Gandalf and the dwarves, with some small support from Bilbo, as needed. This could, of course, be due to the inherent curse of the three-film structure: Part One has to set everything up, Part Two has to bridge and Part Three lets us paint the town red. For my money, the three-part structure was also an issue for the Lord of the Rings trilogy, if a much more necessary one than in The Hobbit.

In essence, An Unexpected Journey ends up being one of the longest prologues in cinema history. Jackson spends so much time on each page of Tolkien’s text (along with various supplemental material) that the film seems to move in real-time, which would seem to be particularly thrilling during the fight sequences but proves to be almost coma-inducing during the extended scene at the beginning where the dwarves gather in Bilbo’s house. At over thirty minutes long, the scene is a seemingly never-ending stream of dwarves eating, drinking, singing and talking while Bilbo bustles around worried and Gandalf smokes sagely. They do manage to throw in the great ditty about washing Bilbo’s dishes but that’s hardly surprising since everything else gets added, as well.

The film manages to hit all of the important moments and beats from Tolkien’s book (if greatly expanded), yet also opts to throw in tons of material that either add a “Hollywood” aspect to the film (the introduction of Azoth as some sort of Bond-esque villain, complete with mechanical arm, is total horseshit) or needlessly tie The Hobbit in to the Lord of the Rings trilogy (Christopher Lee returns as the villainous Saruman, although anyone who’s seen Jackson’s LOTR already knows what he has up his sleeve, which seems to dilute the intended impact). At times, there are so many references to LOTR and cameos from previous actors/characters that it smacks alarmingly of fan version. One could argue that both series exist in the same world and overlap key characters: one could also argue, however, that The Hobbit always existed as its own entity and was not dependent on LOTR but enhanced and informed by it. Rather than functioning as its own, stand-alone narrative (as it rightly should), An Unexpected Journey often feels like additional player content for an already purchased video game. For an additional $12 (times three, technically), Jackson’s given us the chance to spend a little more time with beloved characters, even if they’re mostly cameos.

Adding to the video game parallel, in my opinion, are the CGI-heavy visuals. Too often, I found the backgrounds to resemble video game cut scenes (think Final Fantasy 35) and I never found myself fully immersed in Middle Earth. While the Lord of the Rings trilogy utilized CGI (particularly the final film), there was still heavy use of practical effects and makeup. Here, the orcs all have a smooth, shiny, generic appearance that reminds me of what a PS3 adaptation of The Descent might look like. In fact, I’m hard-pressed to remember any of the baddies in this one, although I’m assuming that Shelob’s appearance in the second film will be pretty awesome (what can I say: I’m a sucker for giant spiders). The fight between the giant CGI eagles and the CGI wargs is pretty cool but most of the other battles devolve into a kind of frenzied, generic CGI smash-em-up with little individual definition and lots of repetitious action. It gets old fast and is definitely a let-down: I wasn’t enamored of the film, in general, but the battle scenes were my least favorite parts, oddly enough.

Lest it seem like I’m unnecessarily slamming the film, let me be clear: despite my hesitance to see this particular film (due to the reasons stated above), I’ve always been a huge Peter Jackson fan. In fact, up to and including The Fellowship of the Rings, Jackson was one of my favorite directors, ranked in my head in a similar position to Ben Wheatley nowadays. I absolutely love Dead Alive, Meet the Feebles and Heavenly Creatures: each one is as perfect a film, in their own ways, as was ever made. I haven’t really cared for much past LOTR, however, and I grew weary with that series by the end of the second film. In a way, I equate Jackson’s later day career to Tim Burton’s later day career: I’ll always love their early films but I have a real hard time fully appreciating their more recent offerings.

Despite my various and sundry complaints about An Unexpected Journey, however, there is still plenty to laud about the film. The acting is uniformly solid, with Martin Freeman particularly excellent as Bilbo. Andy Sirkis returns as Gollum and, as expected, his scene with Bilbo is a real highlight. The dwarves, although rather interchangeable, are a likable enough bunch, although Thorin (Richard Armitage) is such an obvious stand-in for Aragorn from LOTR that it comes across as a bit silly. The haunting, mournful song that they sing towards the end of the epic first night at Bilbo’s is chill-inducing. There’s also some genuine inventive nuttiness to be found in Greenwood, especially once Radagast the Brown (Sylvester McCoy) is being pulled around on a sled by a team of rabbits. If anything, I wish that more of the film had been this inventive and…well…fun.

Ultimately, An Unexpected Journey is what it is: the first of three films in a very large expansion of a very modest story. Perhaps it’s unfair (and unwise) to judge the whole thing by the first entry. At the same point, however, I can’t help but feel that the original Hobbit would have had us all safe and warm back in our shires, by this point, while Jackson’s adaptation still has us trudging through the cold, desolate wilderness, many, many miles away from our eventual destination.