Wednesday, August 11, 2004

Arthur, Lancelot, and "Those We Do Not Speak Of".

Last night, Ferlie, our friend Mary Sleazy, and I went to see King Arthur and The Village. We had heard bad things about both, and were pleasantly surprised in both cases.

King Arthur follows a pseudo-historic storyline about Artorious Crassus, a Roman Knight of mixed-Briton blood who, as the Roman Empire withdraws from the British Isle, decides to stay on, defend the Britons from a Saxon invasion, and become King. The movie, so long as you don't try to apply a rigid historic or logical judgement, does nothing terribly wrong. The performances are all at least competent, and the story and it's dialogue are acceptable. Even the (cough) kick-ass Guinevere wasn't too bad, until she's swing swords and going toe to toe with battle-hardened Saxon warriors. The costumes wouldn't satisfy the nit-picking of historians or SCA types, but they are not godawfully bad. The thing is, the movie does nothing really well. I'm not surprised to read that it isn't expected to make a profit. Better luck next time Jerry and Antoine, just try not to use the trite trench full of fiery goop set to light with flaming arrows, unless you're just determined to do a Beastmaster homage.

The Village was roundly criticized by almost everyone that I personally know (with the exception of Eugenius and Clovis). Ferlie and I enjoyed it immensely. Shyamalan created an intensely creepy atmosphere, and within it told an imaginative story with his trademark twist at (or near) the end. William Hurt and Sigourney Weaver may have resurrected (or re-defined) their careers with the supporting roles that they nailed. This is not a movie for the low-brow fan, or one for someone expecting great monster effects and gore.


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