Halloween 2025: September 14th

I Know What You Did Last Summer (2025)

You can debate whether this new decade has produced any horror franchises of its own with real staying power. "M3GAN" seems to have slipped on her second run. Ti West's "X" trilogy was more of a niche thing. While the 2020s struggles to find their own monsters, studios certainly remain determined to resurrect the slasher stars of previous decades. Recent relaunches of "Halloween" and "Scream" have made the "legacy sequel" – a fusion sequel/reboot/remake that brings back old characters, introduce new ones, and tell suspiciously familiar stories – the hot trend in studio horror. That concept might have jumped the shark this past summer when Columbia Studios applied the legacy sequel treatment to "I Know What You Did Last Summer." Ah yes, the "I Know What You Did Last Summer" trilogy with its iconic characters like... The "Party of Five" chick and... That guy. Ya know, the beloved slasher villain. The, uh, Gordon's Fisherman or whatever. Yes, I do believe someone greatly overestimated the public's investment in this particular nostalgia property. I know what I did nearly a decade ago and that was review the previous three films in this crappy series. I might as well give the new crappy one a shot too. 

We return once again to the seaside town of Southport, North Carolina during the 4th of July weekend. Ava and Milo's best friends, Danica and Teddy, are celebrating their engagement. They pick up an old friend, a recovering addict named Stevie, and drive out to a winding mountain road to watch the fireworks. That's when Teddy, fooling around in the road, causes a car to drive off the edge. Rather than go to the police, Danica talks the group into keeping it a secret and Teddy's influential father provides additional cover-up. One year later, Ava returns home to attend a second engagement party Danica is having with her new boyfriend, Wyatt. At the party, Danica receives a letter simply reading “I know what you did last summer.”  That night, Wyatt is murdered by a killer in a fisherman slicker. It becomes quickly apparent that Ava and all her friends are being stalked by the same hook-wielding maniac, eager to deliver vengeance upon them for their misdeeds. The group seek out the help of Julie James and Ray Bronson, survivors of a killing spree with the exact same M.O. from over thirty years ago. 

The script, which director Jennifer Kaytin Robinson co-write with Sam Lansky, makes sure to inform us that Ava is bisexual, that all the characters are into social media or drugs, without making these seem like real defining characteristics. Everyone is hot and toned and unblemished and often swapping romantic partners. These elements exist alongside all of them being rather unlikable people. Danica never once apologizes for being an accessory in the death of a bystander, coming across as largely vapid. Everyone seem entitled to a bright future without once grappling with the consequences of what they've done. At first, I figured the brainless Teddy or the shallow Danica were meant to be the villains of the film, intentionally unlikable rich kids who believe they are always beyond reproach. Instead, by the film's end – when everyone is trading catty dialogue like “Fuck the 4th of July!” –  it's apparent that we are actually suppose to find these traits endearing. Truthfully, the film isn't about guilt or responsibility at all. These events happen to these people and I never once believed they were learning anything.

Something else that is severely lacking is a sense that any of the main characters are in danger. Despite the killer ostensibly being after Ava and her friends, everyone around them seems to be dying instead. The ensemble is fruitlessly chased while a handful of unimportant side players wander in to be speared upon the Fisherman's hook. Danica's pointless second fiance or a random cemetery groundskeeper are two of the bystanders introduced to be fodder. Much like the original film, Robinson's “Last Summer” suggest there truly aren't that many ways to kill someone with a big hook. There's a decent neck impaling but, otherwise, the gore proves totally forgettable. Another example of the sequel's lack of creativity is present in two separate scenes where someone can't hear a victim's cries for help and screams of agony because they are listening to music too loudly. Ya know, a slasher flick can get away with that gag once but twice is simply egregious. 

Occasionally, the film seems like it might possibly be gesturing at some form of social commentary. One of the Fisherman's earliest victims is a true crime podcaster obsessed with the murder spree from the original film. When she's at the end of the killer's hook, she says she's “a fan” of their work. If this is meant to be a commentary on the callousness of the true crime industry or the gross type of celebrity our culture affords to murderers, it never develops into an actual point. (Considering 2018's “Halloween” and “Terrifier 3” also did something like this, it's quickly become an abused trope in modern slashers.) Similarly, Teddy's rich dad is a real estate developer, who bought up Southport property after its value plummeted following the original murders. Despite the obvious crassness of these actions, Ted's dad isn't depicted as especially ruthless. That would require the film actually giving any of its characters' actual defining characteristics at all. The sequel wants to invoke vague notions of relevancy without commenting on these issues in any way. 

The annoyingly trendy characters or bloodless attempts at meaning are, somehow, not the element of “I Know What You Did Last Summer” that bugged me the most. David Gordon Green's “Halloween” trilogy connects to the original via Michael Myers and Laurie Strode. The new “Scream” sequels make sure to introduce the kids and relatives of the established cast members. Ava and her friends have no connection to the 1997 ensemble. They are simply being pursued by a killer with the same costume and gimmick. When the identity of the villain is revealed – in a moment that definitely feels more “Scream” than “Last Summer” – no justification is given for continuing with the fisherman get-up. Julie James is brought back into the story, because the new group seems to think she can help them. Now, why would that be? Having survived an unrelated murderer in the same town thirty years ago does not give her any special insight into this new batch of unconnected killings. A more desperate, less sensible reason is introduced as a cheap twist but it feels like nothing but an excuse to have Jennifer Love Hewitt and Freddie Prince Jr. in the movie. Hewitt, for whatever it is worth, is probably the most personable and interesting performer in the film. This is more by a lack of any other options, as the new recruits are completely indistinguishable. 

Robinson claims to be a big fan of the original films. This is apparent in shout-outs to the superiority schlocky “I Still Know What You Did Last Summer” and two very dumb scenes that bring back additional cast members from the nineties. (The former is a dream sequence and the latter is a post-credit scene, both feeling like last minute additions.) Notably not referenced is “I'll Always Know What You Did Last Summer,” the very bad direct-to-video third entry. As lame as that movie was, introducing a supernatural element to the Fisherman at least kept a logical link to the original. This reboot goes through all the legacy sequel steps without finding what was unique or interesting about these characters and their world originally. I mean, that's probably because “I Know What You Did Last Summer” was always lame bullshit but those older movies at least had a little more meat on their bones than this meager stab at a revival. The film technically turned a profit – 64 million at the global box office against a 16 million budget – but the complete lack of enthusiasm it was received with makes further follow-ups unlikely. I guess we won't be getting reboots of “Urban Legend” or “Cherry Falls” then, which is probably no great loss either. [4/10]

The Saga of the Viking Women and Their Voyage to the Waters of the Great Sea Serpent (1957)

Cult movie aficionados recall the Italian peplum craze of the late fifties and early sixties with a great deal of fondness. It is one of the defining flavors of cinematic mozzarella, cheap and cheesy flicks churned out by the Italians. Less discussed is a similar but distinctly different sub-genre that occurred around the same time. That would be the viking movie, low budget sword-and-sandal epics set on the other side of the European continent. A handful of these, a lot of which starred Cameron Mitchell or Gordon Mitchell, arrived at the same time gladiators and Hercules were filling drive-ins. Most of these arose in the wake of Kirk Douglas swashbuckler “The Vikings.” Roger Corman, ever the savvy businessman, attempted to beat that movie into theaters by quickly throwing together his own take on the Norse sagas. The result was a motion picture now most recalled for its hilariously long-winded title, “The Saga of the Viking Women and Their Voyage to the Waters of the Great Sea Serpent.” Ol' Rog really wanted this one to get its deserved space on the marquee, didn't he?

Some time ago, the brave Viking men of Stannjold left on a journey across the sea. They have yet to return. The women of the community, with only an errand boy named Ottar to keep them company, are starting to get antsy. They assemble their own longboat and set out on a rescue mission, While crossing the ocean, they are attacked by a great sea serpent and tossed aside by a vortex. The women – leader Desir, the dark-haired and mysterious Enger, the young and naive Asmild – wash up on the beach. They are soon abducted by Stark, the cruel leader of the local Grimaults tribe. Captured and imprisoned, the women eventually discover that their men are being used as workers in a near-by cave. Attempted burnings at the stake, boar hunts, sword fights, ritual funerals, and another appearance from that pesky sea serpent all follow. 

“The Saga of the Viking Women” was born of an ambitious pitch from special effects guys Irving Block and Jack Rabin. We can only speculate on why these two conceived of a story about viking women, rather than viking men. However, one assumes that the commercial potential of a poster filled with gorgeous, Nordic beauties was a factor. Populating an adventure story largely with female characters does, however unintentionally, make “The Great Sea Serpent” a somewhat unusual film for its time period. The story necessitates that women take charge, seeking to rescue their men. They are the ones who fling spears, slay a boar, and sail the boats. One sequence features Desir besting the Grimnaults prince in an arm wrestling contest. Almost as if the writers realized they had accidentally made a feminist motion picture, the film immediately backtracks the minute the viking men are introduced back into the story. At that point, the guys start leading the story, getting to fight the titular sea monster, clang swords with the villain, and rescue the now cowering women.

Up until that second half, I thought for sure that “The Saga of the Viking Women” was some writer allowing his Amazon fantasies out to play. All the statuesque women, while doing acts of strength, spend the early scenes bossing Ottar around. The character is played by Jonathan Haze, “Little Shop of Horror's” Seymour, and he's a hairless little twink here. Exactly the type of slave-boy that would submit to towering women. You can tell the film has lost the thread when Ottar is the one who saves the day during the climax, this slave-boy having become a slave-man. Despite the frantic attempt to undo any feminist reading the material might have had, there is an impossible to ignore queer vibe floating all throughout “Viking Women.” Jay Sayer plays Senya, the Grimnaults prince, as a swishing fairy desperate to prove his clearly lacking manhood to his barbarian father. There is, no doubt, something subversive in the depiction of weak men and powerful women. 

Ultimately, the kinky and gay undercurrents in “Viking Women” are the most interesting things about a film with not a lot else going for it. Obviously, Corman and his crew did not have the budget necessary for a proper fantasy epic. The sea serpent mentioned in the title only appears briefly in two scenes. It appears to be a rather floppy jawed hand puppet in a bathtub somewhere. There's also a moment of someone being struck down when lightning connects with their sword. Otherwise, “Waters of the Great Sea Serpent” is a bit of a nothing movie. The script attempts to mine some tension from Enger's lust for Desir's bare-chested boyfriend but it doesn't amount to much. The boar scene clearly never has the actors interacting with stock footage of a wild pig. There are long sequences of the viking guys breaking rocks in a cave, the women standing around and talking about what they should do, and the bad guys lecturing them about their greatness. Not the most compelling strain of schlock. 

There is, in fact, a good reason why “The Voyage of the Viking Women” turned out the way it did. The writers won Corman over with some gorgeous concept art, claiming they had all the special effects expertise necessary to bring these images to life within. They did not, a difficult situation made far more stressful by a typically tight budget. Production was a disaster, with the boat prop falling apart and some actresses nearly drowning. No wonder Corman decided the rest of the movie would be mostly composed of interior shot, dialogue driven scenes. The result is a fairly tedious B-movie. Corman does keep it fast paced and short, wrapping up the whole thing in a little over an hour, and the cast is lovely. Nevertheless, it's no surprise that the hilarious overwrought title emerges as the most memorable element of this one. I wonder if they could've made the title more of a run-on sentence? “The Saga of the Viking Women and Their Voyage to the Waters of the Great Sea Serpent, Wherefore They Braved the Perilous Vortex, Fought the Fearsome Barbarians, Slew the Mighty Boar, and Angered the Gods of Thunder and Lightning” does have a nice ring to it... [5/10]

Thriller (1973): A Coffin for the Bride
 

A full decade after Boris Karloff's “Thriller” came to an end, a program with an identical title began airing on the other side of the ocean. This “Thriller” was produced for British network ITV, created by influential screenwriter Brian Clements, and ran for six seasons. Unlike most other English anthology series of the time, which wouldn't develop fans in America until years later, a select number of “Thriller” episodes aired over here as part of “ABC's Wide World of Mystery” program. One such episode was “A Coffin for the Bride,” supposedly Clements' favorite. It follows Mark Walker, a former merchant marine who suffered psychological damage after falling to a dock. In the years since then, he's developed an eccentric habit. He hangs out in bars and hotel lobbies, looking for women who are perhaps a little older, whose looks have faded it a bit. He seduces them, convinces them to marry him, murders them via drowning, and then compulsively starts the cycle again. He has set his sights on two targets recently: Stella, a costume designer who is significantly younger and prettier than his usual targets, and Angela, a vulgar older broad that is more his style. A detective is on his trail but danger is much closer to Mark than that. 

“A Coffin for the Bride” plays a bit like a made-for-TV version of “Frenzy.” The second scene introduces Michael Gwynn as a detective certain of Walker's guilt but unable to prove anything. We follow him for a little bit as he fruitlessly tries to stop the murderer before another body piles up. He then becomes Max's next victim at the end of the first act. (Or "End of Part One," as a title card informs us.) From that point on, the literal lady killer is the story's protagonist. "A Coffin for the Bride" obviously can't get as perverse or explicit as Hitchcock's last masterpiece but it does take some measures to humanize the psychopath. Mark is clearly driven to kill by an uncontrollable impulse, the result of a traumatic brain injury. He makes plans with Stella for the night but, after meeting a perfect target in the form of Angela, quickly cancels them. As if he can do nothing to stop himself from enacting the cycle again. More than once, he seems to slip into a fugue state of sorts before a kill or while deep in thought. The script never quite goes so far as to make Mark a sympathetic character. Never once does he express a desire to want to stop killing. In the first scene, he makes a misogynistic comment after drowning a portly woman. His obsession with his own fitness, or the ease with which he slips into a manipulative mode the minute he's around a vulnerable lady, all seem to suggest that this guy is a bit like the masculine id run amok. As if "A Coffin for the Bride" is taking the leisure suited, seventies lothario concept to its most extreme conclusion. However, merely suggesting that a serial killer's violent nature could be caused by a medical program or that he is also a victim of his own twisted psychology is a lot more than you'd expect from a seventies TV show. 

Like many episodes of British television from this time, "Thriller" is a bit flat in its presentation. There's little music and the framing can be rather stage-like. A lot of the hour takes place in the same hotel lobby set. The attraction is clearly in the writing and acting. The epilogue reveals a twist that I probably should have seen coming but that genuinely caught me off-guard, a solidly constructed piece of misdirection. As the fuzz starts to close in on Mark, the killer caught in a web of his own making, some tension is engineered. Michael Jayston does a good job of balancing the seemingly contradictory features of the sociopath. That he is both outwardly charming while remaining nothing but cold to his victims, totally self-centered and manipulative as he works towards making his homicidal fantasies a reality. You can actually believe that Stella, played by a young Helen Mirren in all her purring sensuality, could be attracted to this guy and willing to overlook his obvious eccentricities. Mirren is compelling in the role and the mystery over whether Stella knows more than she lets on is part of what makes the episode successful. This "Thriller" isn't as scary as the other British genre anthologies I've seen but it is a well written and composed affair. [7/10]

 

The Addams Family: Portrait of Gomez

While out moon-bathing one night, the Addams family is interrupted by the phone ringing. It turns out to have been a missed call from Strife Magazine. The family immediately assumes that Gomez has been selected to be the publication's Man of the Year. After an extensive look, Morticia uncovers the perfect photograph for the cover... Only for Cleopatra to gulp it down. The couple next head to the storefront of Gomez' favorite photographer, only to see the man has closed up shop. Dismayed, they hire a private detective to locate the guy. Turns out he's now snapping the driver's license photos for the Department of Motor Vehicles! Gomez realizes that learning how to drive a car might be the easiest way to get the photo portrait he so desires. But, ah, what about the magazine that started off this series of events in the first place? 

If the above plot synopsis didn't make it obvious, “Portrait of Gomez” is an especially rambling episode of “The Addams Family.” It feels like the writers wanted to do an episode about Gomez attempting to get his driver's license, resulting in many wacky scenarios. Rather than build the entire teleplay around that incident, they worked backwards from there and constructed a suitably bizarre chain reaction. The incident that lends the episode its title is something of an afterthought, only occurring after the family is done with going through these bizarre hoops. That makes this entire episode a delivery machine for one oddball visual gag after another. Such as Grandmama being buried alive, the reveal of Gomez' baby picture, the happy couple trying to wrestle the photo away from Cleopatra, the Addams father using Fester's head as a brake pad, and the inevitable results of the driving test. Needless to say, it doesn't go well and, as you'd expect, the Addams are as upbeat about the results as they ever are. 

I enjoyed all of these jokes. Especially the bit about Fester attempting to take a photograph, which gets sillier and sillier as it goes on. It also amused me that the driving test instructor at the DMV is more annoyed than freaked out by the Addams' macabre antics. However, what I found interesting about this one was the deep depression Gomez falls into when he can't locate his favorite photographer. His head sinks low, covered by his hat, and he then suspends himself from the chandelier and won't come down for three days. Wow, we don't often see Gomez in that bad of a funk. I sort of wish the episode explored that more before getting right back to the gaggery. (Which includes a good joke upon Gomez realizing he needs to shave.) One can easily predict that the entire situation with the magazine has been a misunderstanding but that's okay. This is an episode where getting to that conclusion is an amusingly silly ride. [7/10]

Director Report Card: Ridley Scott (2024)

29. Gladiator II

On paper, “Gladiator” probably didn't seem like the kind of movie primed to launch a sequel. Especially since its main character was dead by the end. Despite that, talks of a sequel to the sword and sandal epic began not long after the original was released. The initial idea that Ridley Scott and screenwriter David Franzoni kicked around would have revolved around the idea of Lucius as Maximus' son, heavily hinted at in the original. Russell Crowe, meanwhile, insisted on a supernatural premise that would see Maximus returning from beyond the grave. This lead to a legendarily nuts script from Nick Cave entitled “Gladiator II: Christ Killer,” about the Roman gods sending Maximus back to Earth to murder Jesus and end the burgeoning new religion. This included an ending montage that had Maximus becoming an immortal warrior that participated in all of history's great wars. Such a premise was clearly too weird, willfully offensive, and metal to actually be filmed. Supposedly Steven Spielberg himself vetoed the sequel.

After that, the sequel entered development hell. Various behind-the-scenes studio shenanigans would scuttle the project but Ridley Scott remained passionate about the idea. For two decades, he held onto the insistence of making a follow-up to the Best Picture winner. In 2018, the sequel would finally get the official greenlight, the script once again revolving around Lucius as Maximus' son. “Gladiator II' finally went before cameras with a massive budget, somewhere in the neighborhood of 250 million. This suggested the studio believed the film could be a blockbuster... Turns out audiences weren't not exactly scrambling for a sequel to a twenty-four year old historical epic, the film doing middling business. It also received sharply divided reviews, some loving it but most agreeing it wasn't as good as the original. Destined not to repeat its predecessor's Oscar gold, the Academy only nominated the sequel for its costumes. Seems like an anticlimactic result after so many years in development but the question remains: Is the film itself any good?

Sixteen years after the Emperor Commondus is killed by Maximus Decimus Meridius in the Colosseum, the Roman empire is now ruled by the depraved twin brothers Geta and Caracalla. They demand the empire expand, having General Acacius lead an invasion of Numidia. During the siege, a young warrior named Hanno watches his wife be killed and is captured as a slave. Taken to Rome, he purchased by trader Macrinus. Seeing something in the boy, Macrinus trains him as a gladiator and promises to help him achieve his revenge against Acacius. Hanno becomes popular in the colosseum. Lucilla – the daughter of Marcus Aurelius and Acacius' current wife – recognizes the new gladiator as an adult Lucius, her and Maximus' son that was sent into hiding for his own protection. Soon, “Hanno” is torn between two conspiracies: One by Acacius to overthrown the emperors and restore sanity to Rome and another by Macrinus to take over the empire and burn it down from the inside. 

Probably do to the historical influence of Christianity, we have a view of the Roman empire today as a decadent nation, where mad emperors threw debauched parties and Christians were fed to lions in the Colosseum. “Gladiator II” takes place in this (largely imaginary) version of Rome. Emperors Geta and Carcalla are portrayed as pale skinned, sunken-eyed, limp-wristed lunatics who are hungry for blood, both from the gladiatorial games and on the battlefield. We know they are crazed because one of them has a pet monkey. It's impossible not to see this depiction of a Rome on the verge of collapse, ruled by mad vulgarians and conspired against by a hostile military and people, and think of our modern political climate. Are modern right-wing politicians like Trump and Milei our modern equivalents to Caligula and Nero? The idea of an empire ruled by insane fascists, that is overextending itself and rotting in their own excess, feels uncomfortably relevant in the new twenties.

Throughout the film, the dream of Marcus Aurellius, of a Rome ruled by the people and for the people, is referenced. This is the grand idealized vision of democracy, that tyrants can be dismissed and a government directed by the average man is possible. Pointedly, Aurellius' idea of a freely elected Rome is referred to as dead all throughout the film. Acacius thinks a military coup is necessary, to dispose the mad emperors and restore Rome to its former glory. Macrinus thinks the empire needs to be destroyed, that the rebuilding can only begin after the old world is burnt down. Rather than support either of these ideas, “Gladiator II” ultimately goes in a more optimistic direction, a right and pure savior emerging to save the day. However, the evidence the sequel presents that the empire – and its modern equivalents??? – must be vanquished before something healthier can emerge is more compelling. Ridley Scott has never struck me as especially optimistic about the future direction of society. That “Gladiator II” swerves suddenly towards a hopeful ending feels not only unearned but tagged on, as if the studio insisted on an upbeat ending. It's not as if we don't know the Roman Empire is doomed to fall. 

There is, perhaps, another reason why “Gladiator II's” ending feels so unsatisfying. The original “Gladiator” had several subplot but was ultimately focused on one clear idea. It was about Maximus seeking revenge but finding a higher cause than that. “Gladiator II” does not have that concise a premise. In fact, the film splits its runtime between several on-going stories. For most of its runtime, the story of Acacius plotting against the insane emperors, Marinus' scheme to seize power, and Hanno's battles in the gladiatorial ring never feel like they exactly connect. It's not until the second half that these threads begin to come together, the connective fiber being cleaved away until a more concise climax is ready to go. Sometimes, it feels like “Gladiator II” is unsuccessfully splitting the audience's attention and that it doesn't cohere into something more focused until the last third.

There's another problem too: The story thread devoted to Hanno/Lucius proves to be the film's least interesting. The first half of the sequel operates under the idea that “Hanno” has either no idea or no interest in his true destiny. He only wants revenge against the empire. After one brief conversation with Lucilla, his personality shifts entirely. He is now ready to carry out the vision of his grandfather and real father. We all know that Ridley Scott is fond of lengthy director's cut that restore footage excised from the theatrical cut. I'm honestly wondering if some of Lucius' character development wasn't left on the cutting room floor. Why you would cut scenes revolving around the change your protagonist undergoes, I can't say. Either way, Lucius seems like a totally different character at the film's end than he does at the beginning and not because he grows and changes. 

There might be other reasons why the journey the protagonist undergoes in “Gladiator II” isn't entirely convincing. Coming twenty four years after the original means this is not an ordinary sequel. “Gladiator II” fits right into Hollywood's favorite modern trend of I.P. Extension, the legacy sequel, follow-ups that slavishly honor the original while introducing new heroes that can continue the franchise into the next decade. Hanno is Maximus' son, his father existing in the sequel as a totally off-screen but practically deified figure. He's spoken of in hushed tones, as a great man who stood up to tyranny. His armor is suspended in a tomb like it's a religious alter. Lucius donning his dad's armor is treated like Bruce Wayne putting the Batman cowl on for the first time. This pairs with a script that closely follows the original's structure, of a gladiator driven by revenge who soon fights to free the people from a dictator instead. This stuff comes off as totally inert, as if it's a demanded addition to the script that Scott and his team were not that invested in. “Gladiator” isn't “Star Wars” or “Ghostbusters” and doesn't have the history or mythology of those series. Does anyone care about Maximus as much as they do Luke Skywalker? Must we treat him with such reverence? The script says “yes” but the sequel's actual tone suggests otherwise.

Maybe Lucius coming across as a weak protagonist, whose personality feels pushed around by the whims of the script, aren't the fault of the writing nor the demands of the legacy sequel. Paul Mascal was hand-picked by Scott to play the role, over bigger names like Barry Keoghan, Miles Teller, and Austin Butler. That would suggest the director had a certain faith in the performer. In the earlier scenes, Mascal seems well cast. He is a physical force, his muscle rippling as he wrestles with other gladiators and bloodily dispatches them. When driven by his rage, such as in an effective sequence where he operates an ancient rowing machine all by himself, Mascal makes Hanno a compelling protagonist. However, whenever he has to express the other emotions in the script, a desire to bring democracy back to Rome or to honor those that have fallen, he is never convincing. Pablo Pascal, as Acacius, seems similarly shackled by the grandness of the script, unable to make the general into more of a character and less of a plot device. 

Despite a messy script and two leads that never quite get a grip on their roles, “Gladiator II” is still an enjoyable time at the movies. This is mainly because it allows Ridley Scott a chance to indulge some of his favorite ideas. The sequel is awash with ideas of familial resentment and lingering legacy. Lucius never knew his real father and ultimately must fill some big sandals, left behind by his emperor grandfather and revolutionary dad. His mother – played by Connie Nielson, as one of the few actors to return from the original – is married to his rival, bringing certain Oedipal themes to mind. That there is an unspoken longing between them, not directly incestuous but also not without that feeling, is unavoidable. Meanwhile, the twin emperors seem to be the type of sexually voracious decadents that wouldn't be opposed to screwing each other. In addition to obviously resenting one another's power. In other words, the intertwining desires of family – to honor your bloodline, end it, or feed back into it – is all over the sequel.

Operatic themes like this inevitably point the sequel in another direction that Scott has been known to favor. “Gladiator II” has more in common with another Scott directed sequel than I expected. As he did with “Hannibal,” the director piles the movie up with so many outrageous elements that it quickly veers towards camp. To match the tone of Roman excess, “Gladiator II” builds towards increasingly bigger and more elaborate set pieces. The sequel sees its armored fighters going up against CGI animals multiple times. Shaved baboons, a rhinoceros mounted like a horse, and bloodthirsty sharks in a flooded colosseum all appear. These lead to grand, bloody action scenes. More dependent on CGI than the original, you can still feel Scott's joy at being able to include a naval battle or a weaponized rhino in the film. The action choreograph is captivating, the editing is tight, and the action is exciting. The naval attack sequence especially so.

Not all the animal co-stars in the movie where made in a computer though. Geta has a pet monkey named Dondus, played by a flesh-and-blood macaque, which steals the show whenever she's on-screen. That's far from the only bold swing the sequel makes. The supernatural concepts that were prominent in earlier drafts are teased by dream sequences Lucius has of his loved ones crossing the river Styx. Naturally, Scott and cinematographer John Mathieson make sure the sequel is loaded with opulent visuals. A shot of Acecus exiting through a gate, sweeping aerial views of the colosseum, or carefully lit nighttime scenes all show the grandness we associate with the director by this point. The sets and costumes are grand and elaborate. 

Excess is the name of the day, in other word. And some cast members seem more aware of this than others. Joseph Quinn and Fred Hechinger as the twin emperors both ham it up to heighten levels, playing the roles as cartoonish supervillains. Denzel Washington, meanwhile, plays Marinus as grand theater. Denzel is exactly the kind of actor that can make theatrical proclamations come off as thunderous monologues. He plays the character as an unrepentant villain, a schemer who is always manipulating everyone around him towards his ultimate goal. “Gladiator II” is at its most alive when Washington is on-screen. He adopts an ambiguous sexuality for the character, making it clear that he's playing the role as camp. However, Washington has such a natural command of the screen, putting such power into any of his performance, that the character still comes off as an effectively intimidating force.  

Ultimately, “Gladiator II” is both a mess and a highly entertaining blast of cinematic insanity. The script packs in too many ideas while cutting down on other important details. Grafting itself so closely to the original, in terms of narrative and structure, only draws attention to how much the sequel doesn't live up to its inspiration. It feels a bit like Scott wanted to make a stand-alone peplum epic but could only get the necessary budget if it was a sequel. As evident as these flaws are, Scott and his team are clearly having fun going as over-the-top as they can. It doesn't always work, especially whenever we are suppose to be involved in Mascal and his hero's journey. However, any movie with this much creatively crafted and carefully executed carnage, and such joyfully hammy villains, is destined to appeal to me on a certain level. Perhaps Ridley Scott is in his own debauched Roman emperor stage here but rhino fights and boat crashes are more fun to watch than Lady Gaga hamming it up or Napoleon and Josephine fucking. [Grade: B-]

Director Report Card: Ridley Scott (2021) Part One

26. The Last Duel

In 1977, Ridley Scott would begin with career as a feature director with “The Duelists.” Considering the influential classics Scott has contributed to cinema, it was the beginning of a prominent legacy. In 2020, while filming his latest historical epic, Scott was 83 years old. Which is pretty old by any measure. This film was entitled “The Last Duel.” At the time, while wishing no ill will against Sir Scott, I commented that it would be a nice bit of dramatic symmetry if this ended up being his final film, if his career began with “The Duelists” and ended with “The Last Duel.” Of course, the ever-prolific filmmaker immediately went to work on his next project. Due to the pandemic, he already had the follow-up to “The Last Duel” in the can before it was even released. The two films came out mere weeks apart. Nevertheless, there is a feeling of finality in Scott's latest medieval story. 

Set in late 1300s France, “The Last Duel” follows the rivalry between Norman knight Jean de Carrouges and squire Jacques Le Gris. Both are veterans of France's various military campaigns and serve under Count Pierre d'Alencon. After the war, Pierre makes Le Gris responsible for restoring his finances. Carrouges, broke following the death of his wife and son from the plague, marries Marguerite de Thibouville and inherits a large dowry... Which is then seized by the count and given to Le Gris. At a festival, Le Gris meets Marguerite and immediately falls in lust with her. While Carrouges is on an unsuccessful campaign in Scotland, Le Gris breaks into his castle and rapes Marguerite. When she informs her husband of this, he is outraged. Le Gris denies the charges, causing Carrouges to demand a duel with the man. It would be the last judicial duel, in which the winner is declared right by the will of God, ever performed in French history.

“The Last Duel” has a story structure that seems unavoidably inspired by Akira Kurosawa's classic “Rashomon.” It is broken up into three chapters. The first depicts Carrouges' version of events, with Le Gris' account being shown in the second. The third and final chapter follows Marguerite's perspective, which is implied to be the truth. Each chapter progresses a little further into the story, keeping things from getting too repetitive. Moreover, the multi-layered structure gives the same lines of dialogue different meanings. Carrouges asking his wife if she's telling the truth plays very differently in his account of events than in her's. Opinions and depictions of characters change from each chapter, showing us that how we perceive ourselves and how others see us are truly very different. It might seem gimmicky but “The Last Duel's” narrative structure does make it a more compelling film.

Aside from its title and the premise of two dudes fighting, “The Last Duel” doesn't have much in common with Ridley Scott's debut film. That movie was about a long-standing rivalry between two men who hated each other from the moment they met. “The Last Duel” follows the arc of two men starting out as friends but slowly becoming the bitterest of enemies. Carrouges saves Le Gris' life in combat, the two having a mutual respect for each other. (At least that's how Carrouges recalls it.) However, as the count favors Le Gris more and more, it upsets Carrouges' sense of vanity. This is what really makes him hate the squire, even before he assaults his wife. Of course, we later learn that Le Gris has always found Carrouges insufferable, though he didn't tell him that. Nevertheless, “The Last Duel” does a pretty good job of depicting how professional courtesy can rot into murderous rage.

“The Last Duel” allows each of its principal characters to speak for themselves, so each retelling favors their outlook the most. In Jean de Carrouges' version of events, he's a put-upon honorable man. He's served his king and country and just wants financial stability in return. The plague has left him destitute, forcing him to go off on more military missions, as killing people is the only professional experience he has. This presents a rather amusing image of a knight as a broke-ass, blue collar worker. The actions he takes, such as attempting to sue a count and finally challenging Le Gris to the titular duel, he thinks of as increasingly desperate steps to insure he's simply given what he is owed. 

Of course, according to Le Gris, Carrouges is a totally humorless and conceited blowhard. In Le Gris' telling of events, he's the 14th century equivalent of a party guy, reading Latin poetry, having orgies with Count Pierre, and being loyal to his friends. A courtesy kiss he shares with Marguerite becomes a steamier smooch in his version. The two seem to share some chemistry... Which makes it all the more surprising that, even in Le Gris' recollection of events, the sexual assault is not exactly ambiguous. She says no, over and over again, as he forces himself upon her. Even in his own memories, where he's obviously trying to make it seem like she reciprocated his passion, the woman still didn't consent.

That sexual coercion plays a role in a Ridley Scott movie is not too surprising, since it's a topic that's cropped up in his work from time to time. (Though sometimes with xenomorph appendages standing in for less exotic equipment.) What is interesting is how “The Last Duel” explores attitudes towards sex in general in 14th century France. Count Pierre and Le Gris bed multiple women at a time, all their lusty needs satisfied. Carrouges, meanwhile, seems to treat sex as simply a release valve, something to be resolved as quickly as possible. This is best illustrated during a sequence where his beloved mare is mounted by a rogue stallion, a sight that greatly annoys him. He's most concerned with getting an heir, with good breeding, and otherwise thinks of sex as something frivolous.  

And if you're a woman, nobody is especially concerned with your pleasure at all. The third chapter of the film, showing Marguerite de Thibouville's perspective, makes it clear that it sucked to be a woman in the 1380s. Her father marries her off to Carrouges, in a strictly business-like fashion. When their passionless sex life can't produce a son, he becomes increasingly critical of her. Even slut-shaming her for a cleavage-barring top. Her recollection of the assault is the film's most bracing moment, leaving it exactly clear what happened. By asking that her rapist be brought to justice, she brings scrutiny, gossip, and criticism against herself. She's shamed for having admitted she thought De Gris was handsome, even by other women. At this point, “The Last Duel” makes the wider point that maybe it sucks to be a woman in any century, as there's unavoidable parallels here with our recent “Me Too” era. Especially when Marguerite's mother-in-law admits that she's a victim of sexual assault too. 

“The Last Duel” is a compelling narrative that draws you in and keeps you guessing, as it builds atop itself and heads towards its conclusion. Which is a good thing because, from a visual perspective, it's not the most distinct experience. At this point in his career, we know what a Ridley Scott medieval epic looks like. The film has, more or less, the same color palette as “Kingdom of Heaven.” That means lots of dour greys and dirty blues, reflecting the overcast skies and muddy grounds. Scott does include one Kubrick-inspired interior shot, as De Gris and Carrouge talk aside the soft glow of the fireplace. That was a good moment. Yet the innovative cinematography that used to characterize Scott's films have long since given way to a somewhat same-y approach.

If nothing else has united Scott's films in recent years, it's an increasing focus on graphic violence. “The Last Duel” is no different in that regard. In fact, it comes off as especially brutal, even by the standards of this director's career. When we first see Carrouge in combat, he's hacking, stabbing, and bashing his way through other enemy knights. He even wraps his fist in chainmail and punches a face in. All of this proceeds the final duel, which is equally intense in its violence. Horses and random bystanders crumble into bloody piles. The two men wail on each other, their grand duel eventually reduced to them wrestling awkwardly on the ground. It may be excessive but it also makes the point of how self-destructive the men's macho pride is.

If Scott was happy to cast a bunch of white guys as Moses and the Pharaoh in “Exodus” – which “The Last Duel' also resembles visually – obviously he wasn't going to put any actual French people in this. The film is a starring vehicle for Matt Damon and Adam Driver. Both acquaint themselves in the parts well enough. Damon balances enraged pomposity and self-righteous fury as Carrouge, a man keenly obsessed with his own pride. Driver, meanwhile, plays De Gris as a hedonist who can go to any length necessary to justify his own actions. At the same time, Driver adds enough charm to the guy, so that you can believe he would be popular and beloved by those who aren't aware of his full selfishness.

The most reasonable character in the film is of course, Marguerite. Jodie Comer plays her as a woman who, unlike the men around her, actually has been wronged. All she wants is the man who harmed her to be face some consequences for his actions and she's willing to risk everything to insure that. Comer doesn't play her as a heroic woman, simply as someone who has desperately been pushed too far. Driver's part was originally meant to be played by Ben Affleck, who now appears as Count Pierre. If De Gris justifies his hedonistic life style, Affleck's count doesn't bother. He loves to use his power to get what he wants, which is mostly money and women. It's pretty entertaining to watch Affleck camp it up in a role like this.

“The Last Duel” would premiere to less than stellar box office numbers last October. The film was another causality of the Disney buy-out of Fox, with the ongoing pandemic also keeping older audiences away from theaters. The unavoidable fact that non-franchise films don't seem to be making much money in the COVID era is another factor. Ridley, officially in the no-fucks-given stage of his career, blamed the low box office on those goddamn millennials. I think a three hour long movie about rape was always going to be a dicey proposition, commercially speaking. However, the film did win some fine reviews. (Though not a single Oscar nomination. You think it could've sneaked into Production Design or Costumes or something.) I think it's a pretty interesting film and well assembled too. Maybe it's not as good as “Kingdom of Heaven” or “Gladiator.” (Or “The Duellists,” for that matter.) But it's also a lot better than “Robin Hood” and “Exodus.” [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: Ridley Scott (2014)

22. Exodus: Gods and Kings

Throughout his entire career, Ridley Scott has displayed a fascination with Christianity. Earlier films like “Blade Runner” and “Legend” made oblique references to stories from the Bible. Later films, like “Kingdom of Heaven” and “Prometheus,” would directly approach questions about God and faith. Despite this clear interest of his, and his tendency towards historical epics, Scott had never made a directly Biblical movie. That would change in 2012, when it was announced Scott was developing a film entitled “Moses.” By the time production was rolling along, the title had been changed to “Exodus.” The subtitle of “Gods and Kings” was later added, to differentiate the film from all the other ones entitled “Exodus.” The movie would generate controversy and tepid box office in 2014 by the time it blessed theater screens with its presence. 

In 1300 B.C., Seti I rules over Egypt, its people, and hundreds of Hebrew slaves. His son, Ramesses II, is expected to inherit the throne with Moses, a general so beloved by the pharaoh that he is treated like a son, as his royal adviser. Following a battle where he saves Ramesses' life, Moses goes to inspect the slave sectors. This is when he is told a distressing rumor: Moses is not Egyptian but a Hebrew, who was floated down the river in a basket as a baby and adopted by the royal family. When it's discovered this is true, Ramesses II exiles Moses from Egypt. He comes to live in a community in the desert, marries a Hebrew woman and fathers a son. Following a head injury, Moses has a vision from the God of Abraham, who instructs him to free the Hebrews and lead them to the Promised Land. Soon, Moses is leading a slave rebellion against the rulers of Egypt and bringing the wrath of God down on the kingdom.

Even though he's obviously obsessed with religious themes and imagery, Ridley Scott has described himself as an atheist. Which means the director would bring a very different perspective than the usual one to the Biblical story of Moses and the Pharaoh. The retelling attempts to find a “realistic” explanation for most of the miraculous events in the story. Moses' visions from Yahweh are hallucinations, following a traumatic head injury. The Ten Plagues of Egypt are the result of ecological disaster setting off a domino effect. The parting of the Red Sea is explained by a tsunami elsewhere draining the waters. Never mind that a “realistic” version of the Exodus story is a wrong-headed idea to begin with, since historians and archaeologists agree that Hebrew slaves were never in Egypt and there's no basis in fact for any of the story's events. “Exodus: Gods and Kings” just goes ahead with the flawed thesis that this is a grounded, realistic version of the story of Moses.

Knowingly, the film attempts to cook themes of skepticism and faith into its story. Early in the film, the Pharaoh has a diviner attempt to predict the outcome of a battle by reading the entrails of a goose. Moses is, in fact, a non-believer. He rolls his eyes at the idea of prophecies and gods. That, of course, all changes the minute he starts receiving visions from God. (Who speaks to him, not via a burning bush but through an angel who looks like a little boy.) The Pharaohs retain faith in their gods and magic, even as their kingdom is being ravaged by the plagues. Yet the movie essentially operates under an agnostic perspective, leaving the viewer to wonder if the High and Mighty is intervening on Moses and the Hebrew people or if it's all just a series of miraculous coincidences.

Or, at least, the movie operates under an agnostic perspective for most of its run time. Everything that happens in the movie, for the first two hours at least, can potentially be explained by science. But any story of the Ten Plagues has to eventually address the final plague, the deaths of the first-born sons of Egypt. Instead of thinking of some sort of compromise – maybe a pandemic that children are most vulnerable to? – the movie outright admits that God did it. After operating under the idea for the majority of its run time that this is a “realistic” version of “Exodus,” which only possibly acknowledges the existence of a higher power, it wimps out before the end and admits, yeah, God did it. Ya know, I'd expect a movie about religion to at least commit to its ideas, to show some convictions to its premise. Instead of changing its approach entirely a half-hour before the end.

Even though it eventually abandons the pretenses of approaching the Exodus story from an agnostic perspective, this is still the grounded and gritty take on the Sunday school version. And so, “Gods and Kings” delivers a radical re-imagination of the prophet. I mean “radical” literally. Following his head injury, Moses goes from a hardened skeptic to a religious extremist overnight. He trains the Hebrews in the ways of war, leading them in raids on the Egyptian settlements and teaching them how to kill attackers. (Just to make sure you know this is the extra grim version of the Bible, Moses racks up a hefty body count even before he becomes a religious leader.) Granted, this is a pretty interesting interpretation of Moses, considering what he was chosen to do and what he had to work with to do it. But a prophet of at least three major religions being turned into a murderer who suffers from hallucinations pissed some people off.

Flaws and all, the best parts of “Exodus: Gods and Kings” are the ones were it attempts to compromise between the Biblical version of these events and a more scientific understanding. This is most evident during the sequences devoted to the Plagues. (Which was always my favorite part of this story anyway, during my own Sunday school experience.) The rationalization the film cooks up for this is heavier-than-usual clay deposits turns the Nile blood red. This kills the fish, which causes the frogs to leap onto land in the search for food. They die on the ground, attracting lice and flies. This spreads disease, which kills livestock and causes boils. It also dries out crops, leading to famine – causing wildfires which causes darkness – and aggravating the locust population. That doesn't really explain the hail and, like I said, trying to use science to explain religion is working backwards. But the leaps in logic are interesting to watch. 

It helps that the plague sequences are also the most exciting scenes in the movie. A moment where a boat is attacked by ravenous crocodiles is fantastically directed. The shots of frogs leaping onto the land or locust storming the royal palace are also thrilling in how they are shot and cut. These scenes are also notable for being one of the few times where “Exodus” feels a little more lively. So much of the movie is weighed down by portent, by this desire to be heavy and serious. Scott follows that lead by engineering an overall gray and gloomy visual design. There's not even much in the way of the trademark Ridley Scott lighting. “Exodus” is distressingly dull and uninteresting to look at for long stretches of its run time.

Not helping how lifeless so much of “Exodus” feels is the related sense I've seen this all before. Here, we have the story of a former military soldier being betrayed by his government and then leading an uprising among the slaves, to challenge the authority of the authoritarian leader. In other words: It's “Gladiator” again. You can also see shades of Marcus Aurelius choosing Maximus to lead Rome over Commodus in Rameses I favoring Moses over his own son. Considering “Kingdom of Heaven” and Scott's “Robin Hood” already had more than a few things in common with Scott's Best Picture winner, I'm coming to the depressing realization that Scott spent large parts of the 2000s and 2010s trying to remake his last really huge hit. Even when he was adapting the Bible!

What really makes “Exodus” less effective than it otherwise would've been is how the film skips over some pretty important parts of the story. We never actually see Moses convincing the Hebrew slaves that he's a genuine prophet of God. At a certain point, the film just marches ahead with the conclusion that he teamed up with the slaves at some point. More damaging is how underwritten the relationship between Moses and Ramesses is. Moses is downgraded from an adopted brother to more of a lifelong best friend. Even though the schism between them is the emotional core of the story, we never see the two interact much before Moses is exiled. It's hard to understand their mutual feeling of betrayal when we barely know how these two feel about each other.

Most of the controversy surrounding “Exodus” involves how it cast overwhelmingly white actors in this story about Egyptian and Hebrew characters. It's definitely ridiculous that we were still having this debate in 2014. And Scott's defense of the casting – that there are no A-list movie stars of Middle Eastern descent – was no defense at all. But considering previous cinematic Moses include WASP-y matinee idols like Charlton Heston and Val Kilmer, Christian Bale is pretty in keeping with that tradition. And he's fine in the part. Moses' rage at the Egyptian is exactly the kind of intense emotions Bale specializes in. His decision to play Moses as slightly unhinged is similarly what you'd expect from the star. The scenes were he argues with the messenger of God, questioning what took Him so long or how much of this butchery is necessary, are Bale's best moment. I guess it's not surprising that the character most comes to life when he's at his most conflicted.

The whitewashed casting is definitely most noticeable with some of the other performers. Actors like John Turturro or Sigourney Weaver – glorified cameos both, as Seti I and his queen – definitely stick out. Others, like Aaron Paul as Joshua, are given so little to do that you wonder why such a well-known performer was cast in such an ill-defined part. (Ben Mendelsohn and Ben Kingsley, who is at least some shade of brown, are a little better utilized.) The co-lead is Joel Edgerton – who looks kind of ridiculous in the pharaoh get-up – as Ramesses. While less memorable than Bale, Edgerton does manage to make the part his own. The way he plays his growing anger at the Hebrews as the plagues go on almost more like petty annoyance is a interesting touch. Any effective melodrama between Ramesses and Moses is mostly because of Edgerton, who does his best to sell the brotherly dynamic, even if the script lets him down.

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Ultimately, the controversy was about all the press “Exodus: Gods and Kings” would get. This was surely not great for the movie's box office, which might be why it only barely surpassed its 200 million dollar budget worldwide. The movie did end up banned in several Middle Eastern countries, including Egypt, which was probably inevitable. Fox surely hoped the movie would attract the church-going audiences that turned “The Passion of the Christ” into a mega-hit. Yet those same audiences, if they showed up at all, were probably alienated by the movie straying from the scripture. (Or maybe this one wasn't controversial enough, considering the same year's “Noah” rode similar concerns about its Biblical accuracy to healthier box office.) Ultimately, “Exodus: Gods and Kings” doesn't do much that other cinematic versions of this tale didn't do better. [Grade: C]

Director Report Card: Ridley Scott (2010)

19. Robin Hood

Robin Hood is one of the greatest myths of all time. The story of an outlaw fighting against tyranny, redistributing wealth, and hiding out in the woods with a band of like-minded rebels reverberates through the history of modern fiction. The legend of Robin Hood is also very old, dating back to at least the 15th century. This means Robin Hood is a name almost everyone has heard and is entirely in the public domain. Naturally, that has made the story extremely attractive to Hollywood. There's been countless cinematic Robin Hoods, from the silent era onward. Whether he's been Errol Flynn, Kevin Costner, or a cartoon fox, every generation has had a version to call their own. Last decade, when movie studios became obsessed with exploiting highly recognizable but very cheap I.P.s, Robin of Loxley was suddenly a hot property again. Out of this litany of dueling Hoods, a “Robin Hood” from Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe would be the first to emerge.

Robin Longstride, a veteran of the Third Crusades, fights alongside Richard the Lionhearted during the siege of Chalus Castle. Robin and his friends – Allan A'Dayle, Will Scarlet, and Little John – desert after the king is struck dead. Returning home, they encounter the knights escorting the king's crown back to England. Robin assumes the identity of the knight – Sir Loxley – after they are killed in an ambush. He returns to Nottingham and is soon adopted by Loxley's actual father and wife, Marion. Robin and his men soon uncover a conspiracy, led by English knight Godfrey, to lead a French invasion of England.

When first conceived, 2010's “Robin Hood” was going to be a radically different project. Originally entitled “Nottingham,” the script by Ethan Reiff and Cyrus Voris envisioned the Sheriff of Nottingham as a sympathetic protagonist and Robin Hood as a more morally gray character. The script focused on forensics and had the Sheriff as a man torn between an unjust king and a dangerous outlaw. This is the version of the movie that Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe signed on to make initially. At one point in development, the idea was floated to have Crowe play both the Sheriff of Nottingham and Robin Hood. If nothing else, that would've been a new take on the often-told tale. Eventually, as the project mutated through development, it became a more traditional retelling of the classic story. 

Instead of radically shifting perspectives, the project inflicted another popular storytelling trend of the time on the world famous archer and his merry men: Scott's “Robin Hood” is an origin story, essentially being “Robin Hood Begins.” We see, in extended detail, how Robin Longstride gained his famous alter-ego, meet most of his well-known friends, fell in love with Maid Marian, and came to reside in Sherwood Forest. In practice, what this actually does is tell a “Robin Hood” story without most of the fun stuff people actually associate with the character. This is Robin Hood before he was Robin Hood. There's exactly one scene of Robin and his crew being outlaws and stealing from the rich. The movie ends with Robin having made an enemy of Prince John and the Sheriff of Nottingham, overzealously saving all the cool shit we actually want to see the character do for a sequel that was destined to never be made. The movie even takes some time to flashback to Robin's childhood, letting us meet his dad!

Origin stories that laboriously set-up future sequels was not the only misguided obsession movie studios had in the 2010s. They also wanted to see gritty re-imaginings of well-known characters. And thus we get a “Robin Hood” movie that is awash with royal conspiracies, bloody battle scenes on muddy fields, daddy issues, and roots itself in actual historical events. You might notice that this also causes Scott's reboot to heavily resemble “Gladiator.” As in that Oscar-winning epic, Russell Crowe plays a veteran left behind by his own country who stands up to a tyrant and leads a rebellion. The film makes sure to include Crowe giving a rousing speech, where he presents his own goals and tears down his enemy's beliefs, as if to deliberately reminds us of the unforgettable “Maximus Decimus Meridius” speech.

If a “Robin Hood” movie without most of the elements we associate with the character sounds tedious... It is. Instead of focusing on Robin and the Merry Men being bad-asses who steal from the rich to give to the poor, the film focuses on a convoluted conspiracy to undermine the British crown. There are many long scenes, where Godfrey sets his scheme in motion. Extended sequences are granted to Eleanor of Aquitaine, Prince John's mother, debating what to do with her clearly unfit-to-rule son. Similarly, there's a largely superfluous subplot devoted to William Marshal wringing his hands about the change of power surrounding the British crown. Even scenes that might've been charming otherwise, like Robin and Marion getting closer after he pulls a sheep out of a bog for her, feel like tiresome digressions. Was it really more important that we see how Robin got his name than seeing him do the stuff that makes him interesting?

“Robin Hood” is another example of a Ridley Scott movie with a visual design that's all over the map. Sometimes, the movie looks pretty damn nice. Scott obviously savors a chance to shoot in the rolling green hills of the English countryside. Naturally, such a setting allows for lots of rolling clouds of fog. The forest lends itself well to sun shinning through the tree limbs. Yet at other times, “Robin Hood” looks unexpectedly schizophrenic. The entire movie has a gloomy, gray, overcast look about it, which certainly fits the British setting but isn't very appealing. There's a gang of orphans hiding in Sherwood Forest. At one point, the camera takes their perspective as they run through the underbrush. It feels like something out of a horror movie and looks like nothing else in the movie. 

The film's uncertain visuals are most apparent in the action sequence. Some of the earlier battle sequences, like King Richard's siege of Chalus Castle, are concise and tight. Battering rams, arrows, and sword fights all look smooth enough. Sometimes, you can even see the director really enjoying himself. Such as a CGI-assisted tracking shot of an arrow flying through the air, towards an enemy. Yet too often “Robin Hood” degrades into sloppy shaky-cam during the various combat sequences. This is especially apparent during the climatic battle on the beach, where the camera starts to jerk around as men clash swords and wrestle in the surf and mud. Scott definitely knows better than this, so it's disappointing to see “Robin Hood” fall for such a tactic. 

If the film has such little interest in exploring the traditional elements of the Robin Hood story, you have to wonder what attracted Scott to the material in the first place. The movie makes sure to give Robin Hood some father issues, as a late-in-the-film flashback reveals that Robin's dad was executed when he was a boy. That his father's words still reverberate through his memory. Yet the theme that most connects this film to Scott's other ones is Robin Hood's status as a good man in a corrupt world. Like “Body of Lies'” Roger Ferris and “American Gangster's” Robert Richie, he does the right thing even when those around him do not. Directly to the king, he details the atrocities he saw committed in the Middle East and how horrified he was by them.  This gets him thrown in the stocks but establishes him as someone whose ethics are not intimidated by authority. Which certainly foreshadows his fate as an outlaw, fighting against the king to protect the innocent.

“Robin Hood” is the fourth movie in a row Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe made together, suggesting the two must've liked working together. Crowe, at least, puts his own stamp on the classical character. He attempts to add some swashbuckling spirit to the role, which is most obvious in the early scenes where he's talking and joking around with the other Merry Men. However, as the movie goes on and the focus turns more towards the convoluted plot, Crowe's performance becomes less distinct. By the time he's giving big speeches to his army or slamming a war hammer around on the beach, most of what might've made the performance charming has faded. (Though Crowe's English accent here is better than the one he used in “A Good Year” and better than the rage-filled radio interviews about imply.)

Starring opposite Crowe is Cate Blanchett as Maid Marian. The film wildly puts a modern spin on Marian. She stands up to the oppressors around her. She is strong-willed and opinionated. The film follows this idea to its logical conclusion, by having Marian putting on armor and riding into combat alongside Robin at the end. Blanchett, naturally, is excellent at playing this kind of character. She exudes determination and power all throughout the film. What she doesn't have is much chemistry with Crowe, which makes their romance feel especially forced-in. Obviously, Robin Hood and Maid Marian have to fall in love and that feels like the only thing pulling them together here.

Regardless of the quality of the script, obviously a Ridley Scott film can still attract a high-profile supporting cast. Reappearing from his brief role in “Body of Lies,” Oscar Isaac shows up here as Prince John. Isaac goes gloriously over-the-top as the conceited, childishly self-obsessed prince that uses every opportunity he has to establish how greedy and evil he is. Mark Strong plays Godfrey, another in a series of villainous roles in big budget movies Strong was playing at the time. Strong is obviously adapt at sneering and scheming, even if he can't quite make the character come alive amid all the plotting. Max Von Sydow is delightful as the real Loxley's father, who becomes a father-like figure to Robin. Once again, a wise mentor with a humorous glint in his eye is a role that Von Sydow is extremely well-cast in. Kevin Durand and Scott Grimes have a likable energy as Little John and Will Scarlett, even if neither are given enough to do. The movie does largely waste talented performers like Lea Seydoux and William Hurt, in small supporting roles. 

Like a lot of attempts in the last decade to reboot well-known – but not widely beloved – public domain properties, “Robin Hood” had a middling reception. Reviews were largely soft and audiences were largely indifferent. Even though the movie made over 300 million worldwide, this was still not much compared to its massive budget. Plans for future sequels were immediately squashed. This might expose the biggest problem with making a reboot that acts as a prequel to the well-known parts of the story: Audiences get a largely unrecognizable version of a character and stay away, meaning a sequel that contains the story people actually want to see won't get made. There's already been one other failed attempt to reboot Robin Hood for modern audience since this one, which was an even bigger flop... Which suggest people don't give that much of a shit about Robin Hood at all. Which further suggest that this entire project might've been doomed from the beginning. Misguided and mediocre, the virtues of Scott's “Robin Hood” are not enough to overcome its flaws. [Grade: C]