Gone to America

This is a movie with an interesting premise, and a bunch of money. What went wrong? Everything about it is good, except the script and direction. Unfortunately, no movie can survive such lapses.

The cast struggle valiantly. You can see them straining as they desperately try to wrest some meaning and dignity from the gaping maw of a script so banal it threatens at any moment to swallow them whole – falling, screaming, into an abyss of unintentional hilarity. The music swells extravagantly, constantly, as if by sheer force of strings it can make us be watching the movie we were supposed to be watching, the movie we want to be watching.

But we’re just not. It’s just inept in so many ways… The plot moves forward in random jerks, propelled by individuals – indeed, whole societies – doing things that are just stupid. If it’s so dangerous to even briefly travel beyond the wall (as we are told repeatedly – and I mean to the point of tedium) then how is there a whole mini Roman community surviving there quite happily with about three soldiers? How did they even get there? I thought the gates hadn’t been opened for generations! And if Merlin has ordered the Woads not to kill Arthur, then why do they make such a big deal out of ambushing him, then letting him go? Why don’t they just leave him alone?

It’s full of idiocies, as if the filmmakers were just hoping we would be so impressed by the costumes we just wouldn’t be paying attention to anything else. And what the hell is Keira Knightley wearing? Isn’t she cold? OK, well, I guess I don’t mind that so much.

Even the speeches are crappy – not in themselves, but in the total lack of any dramaturgical sense in their placement. Arthur is constantly making stirring, persuasive speeches to people who have already made up their minds. It’s completely pointless. I swear I saw Ray Winstone rolling his eyes at one point.

It’s kind of odd, because all these people have demonstrated that they know what they are doing in previous movies – Jerry Bruckheimer, David Franzoni, Antoine Fuqua. I just don’t know – maybe there’s something about the very soil of Ireland that robs those who tread upon it of the ability to make competent, entertaining movies.

That would explain a lot.

Anyway, I’m glad that some of my friends were able to make some money out of it, even if they don’t all get credited. It’s just a shame it’s so… crappy.