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The International Writers Magazine: Alt Review of the King
Arthur Movie now on DVD
King
Arthur
Dan Schneider
If
I proffered these four words to you- Keira Knightley in leather-
is there any way in hell a reasonable man would think that the
film that offered such could be bad? No, no way, no way in hell!
But, it is- really bad! And that film is 2004s King Arthur,
and the utterer of those sentiments is me, a well-known Arthuriana
buff- in fact, I was once contracted to write an epic poem on
that subject.
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Ok, for the less
inclined out there, surely the tales of Malory, Tennyson, Chretien de
Troyes, and such medieval fare as Sir Gawain And The Green Knight or
The Mabinogion have some truck? King Arthur, Launcelot, Gwynevere, the
love triangle, Tristram and Yseult, Galahad, The Holy Grail, Excalibur,
The Lady of the Lake, Merlin? Ring a bell?
No? Well, good news. You too can direct a big budget disaster based
upon the myths. Of course, Antoine Fuqua, director of Training Day,
seems eager to show that the idea that a person can direct only what
they know is true- hes a black American homeboy, and his grasp
of the legends is not even slender- is true. In truth, the tales of
King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table are for more entertaining
and grand than the déclassé tripe of The Lord Of The
Rings saga, but you would not know it in this version. Instead of
romance, intrigue, honor, and magic we get realism- or so
the director spouts over and again in his film commentary, and in the
assorted extras on the DVD. But, please note the that
I used around the word realism. Thats because theres not
a hint of it in this disaster. First off, the blood and guts fighting
is laughably unreal. Ever since Saving Private Ryan and The
Thin Red Line in 1998, filmmakers have been trying to be real
in their violence onscreen. This realistic movie, however,
eschews that. Yet, the Knights curse and spit, especially a Cockney
Sir Bors (Ray Winstone). They also are not British, nor even French.
Instead, they are from Sarmatia- a region that never produced knights
in the early 5th Century, when this film is set, nor were they ever
at war with the Roman Empire, as claimed. In the tales, King Arthur
and his Knights are devout Christians, and Rome is little seen. In the
film, Arthur is a Roman Christian in service to the Pope, Lancelot is
a heathen, and Merlin (Stephen Dillane) the head of a band of forest
people called Wodes who, in this realistic film, never existed.
In short, the film centers around Arthurs Knights rescue
of a would-be child church bishop north of Hadrians Wall before
the terrible Saxons sweep in from the North. Unfortunately, the Saxons
never occupied northern Britain, they were defenders of the Isle from
Scots, Picts, and Celts, and they were not marauding barbarians in the
mold of the Vikings a half an eon later- all, again, in this realistic
movie.
Gwynevere (played by the lovelier than words Keira Knightley
-or is it Natalie Portman with an accent?) is a wild warrior woman in
the Xena mold- possibly a Wode, although this is never definitively
made clear- which she and Fuqua claim is historically accurate, although
its not, but allows the brief notion that the glimpses of her
taut, lithe, nacreous bod (and nacreous is a word destined to describe
Ms. Knightleys skin) in skimpy leather, in winter- mind you, will
soon give way to a great romantic love scene with Arthur (the petrified
Clive Owen). But, alas, the one brief romantic scene is lame, Keira
stays far too clothed, and Lancelot (Ioan Gruffydd) is a total pussy
who seems utterly impotent in the face of Gwyns charms. Theres
some attempted dick-waving between Arthur and the Saxon leader Cerdic
(Stellan Skarsgaard- wasted in a silly role that should have been given
to John Saxon if still alive), the Knights prevail, and Arthur learns
that the Roman Catholic Church is evil- and this long before the pedophilia
scandal hit!
THE END.
Well, not yet. The historicity is absurd, the screenplay ludicrously
bad, the acting wooden, the effects cheesy- think 1970s Logans
Run-level, and, worst of all, no nude Keira Knightley!- although she
claims the fictive tribe Gwynevere belonged to were naked warrior priestess
types. Yet, here, they damn their realism! I mean, its
silly enough to see petite, frail, little 105 pound Keira kicking ass
on big, bad Saxons, but do you really expect me to swallow that in all
that action she, garbed only in leather brassiere and bottom (the original
bikini, I guess) a) survives without a real injury, while Lancelot-
the big, strong, armored knight dies to at the hand of wimpy,
craven Saxon Cynric (Til Schweiger- whom Fuqua calls The German Tom
Cruise- and hes finally right, for he- like the original- has
all the acting range of a cucumber), and b) doesnt have a single
wardrobe malfunction? Come on, Jerry Bruckheimer (the awful
films producer)!
Now, there was a battle of Badon Hill, as in the film, on which the
fictive showdown between Arthur and his son Modred was based upon, but
there was no Arthur. Why? Because, as recent research has shown, the
word Arthur (meaning bear) was not a word, but a title, like Captain,
and the fictive King Arthur was probably based upon one of a few Arthurs
that served under King Ambrosius Aurelianus. Thats the historically
accurate truth- and as boring as that is, its far more interesting
than this realistic film. This is like forsaking the legendary
Otello story, which inspired Shakespeares Othello, in favor of
the truth that Big O was just another Moorish pimp daddy. Why in the
hell would anyone want to do that?
Well, Fuqua tells us he sees great similarities between the plights
of the Sarmatian knights and modern African-Americans. Except- THERE
WERE NO SARMATIAN KNIGHTS- in England or Sarmatia, which was no more
by the 5th Century! So, is Fuqua saying that African-Americans, and
there woes, are fictive? No, but he does say that he put his faith in
Joseph Campbells ideas of mythology. Campbell, for those not in
the know, was last centurys greatest Academic charlatan, and complicit
in inspiring the egregiously dull Star Wars films upon us all. This
may also be where Arthur gets his decidedly postmodern ideas about free
will and choice. I mean, to have Arthur- whether the fictive or reality-based
one- babble on about freedom and democracy makes as much historical
sense as George W. Bushs claims, and both mens actions utterly
contradict their claims! This was the Dark Ages, not the Enlightenment!
Of course, this is what PC has wrought, in its evil alliance with Hollywood-
could the Barbarian Right that plunders Iraq be right about them, after
all? The allusions to Vietnam and Iraq are stretched to absurdity, historical
accuracy is meaningless- for both Edward Gibbon and the Venerable Bede,
claim that Rome totally left Britain by at least 410, yet theyre
still there in 452, the films nominal setting, andworst of all,
in the film commentary the clueless Fuqua says that, for historical
accuracy and realism, he wanted to get ethic Russians to
play the Sarmatians- the tribe from the Caspian Sea. Now, Ive
stated that this realistic film ignores the fact that the
Sarmatians were toast centuries before the films setting, were
never Knights, and were thorns in the side to the Byzantines, not the
Romans, but ethnic Russians could not be Sarmatians (aside from the
fact that a Russian Galahad seems absurd) because the ethnic Rus did
not exist till half a millennium later, when the Vikings interbred with
the Slavs. The Sarmatians were a Turkic-Cossack peoples- never Russians!
The rest of Fuquas commentary is standard fellatio- filled with
comments about great ideas that were intended, yet none of it made it
onscreen- not a dram! He also tells us he considers the romantic triangle
at the center of Arthuriana dull- and even sick! Huh?
Now, none of these failings would matter in the least were the tale
a damned good one, but the only way this script could have been passable
on celluloid were someone like a Roger Corman brought in to camp it
up. But, humor and camp are totally absent in this hermetically dry
waste of time. So, the claims of realism and historical
accuracy are the only thing this monstrosity had going for it-
along with the anticipated delight of Keira Knightly in and out of leather,
yet it fails miserably on both scores. And the editing is atrocious-
with at least three major discontinuities in scenes where snow is seen
on the ground, them mysteriously replaced by green grass a second later.
Avoid this film, burn the DVD, and read Thomas Malory. To sum up- I
still look forward to the day when I can ogle Ms. Knightleys tautform
in the way it entered this world, but the hopes that this film would
be entertaining or even passable, well- to quote Mistah Kurtz- He
dead!
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