Halloween 2026: October 4th

 

Clash of the Titans (1981)

Ray Harryhausen's eleventh motion picture as visual effects technician, “Sinbad the the Eye of the Tiger,” would be released the same day as “Star Wars.” This is surely among the most fitting of coincidences in cinema history. The spectacle and myth-making of Harryhausen's work would inspire George Lucas and Steven Spielberg. Yet their brand of blockbuster would also eclipse the simpler charms of “Jason and the Argonauts” or “The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad.” Ray and his regular producer Charles H. Schneer weren't ready to give up though. They would begin developing another fantasy epic, returning to the same Greek mythology that served them well in the past. However, it was destined to be a fond farewell, not a new beginning. “Clash of the Titans' was a box office success in 1981 but Ray would announce his retirement shortly after its release. 

Screenwriter Beverly Cross simplifies the legend of Perseus but hits the major plot beats: He is still the son of Danae, the result of the god Zeus impregnating her as a golden shower. The princess and her baby are tossed into a chest and thrown off a cliff, guided by the gods to the island of Seriphos. Cross invents a villain in the form of Calibos, the betrothed of Princess Andromeda who has been twisted into a monster for his villainous actions. Now, he calls Andromeda's spirit to his swamp every night, providing her with a new riddle to baffle potential suitors with. Perseus, gifted with a bevy of magical power-ups by the gods, figures out the secret and wins the princess' heart. That's when Calibos' mom, the goddess Thetis, punishes them by insisting Andromeda be sacrificed to the sea monster, the Kraken. (Standing in for the more generic threat of Cetus, in the original story.) Now Perseus must go on a quest to retrieve the one thing that can kill the unstoppable sea monster: The head of the gorgon Medusa, which turns all who look at it into stone. 

Much like the latter two “Sinbad” features, “Clash of the Titans” was surely a throwback even when it was new. It follows the same pattern as the previous fantasy epics Harryhausen worked on. The plot is a episodic quest, built around traveling to an exotic location for a simple reason, upon which the next goal is given to the hero. There is no attempt to deconstruct or reconfigure the mythological figures this story is about. Perseus is a pure-hearted hero, morally sure in his motivations and always just in his actions. He gets an always-wise, always-helpful mentor. It seems to be in the contract with the Gods that literal princess Andromeda stay a virgin until her wedding night, to insure that her love with Perseus is perfectly chaste and pure. The villain is so strictly wicked in his ways that he physically resembles Satan, hooves and horns and tails. To call the characters “archetypes” would be neither insulting nor incorrect, as that's exactly what such mythic figures are anyway. (Even if Calibos is an invention of the filmmakers, he certainly fits in with the half-human, half-monster antagonists of classical mythology.)

Of course, the actual heroes of Greek folklore were not so black-and-white. Least we forget what Jason did after he retrieved the golden fleece. “Clash” mostly doesn't get into that, as far as its mortal characters are concerned. The Gods, however, are portrayed as petty and temperamental as the Greeks liked it. Thetis regularly points out that it's kind of bullshit that Perseus gets the favor of the Gods simply because Zeus is his daddy. Hera certainly has no warmth towards another one of her philandering husband's illegitimate offspring. When the king of Olympus asks Athena to give up her beloved owl, she's not happy about it. The film does not, in any way, interrogate this. Zeus is a jerk but that does not influence Perseus being a straight-forward good guy any. There's a molecule of sympathy to the way Neil McCarthy plays Calibos but that's about it as complications go. 

If it feels like I'm complaining, I'm not. I actually admire the purity of “Clash of the Titans'” vision. Harry Hamlin is so stout-chinned and stern-voiced in his performance that he might as well have leapt right off a comic book page. Laurence Olivier and Maggie Smith make grand theater of playing literal gods. Burgess Meredith adds a wry twinkle of the eye to the standard wise mentor role of Ammon. Director Desmond Davis mostly stays out of the way of the effects and the material. “Clash of the Titans” is a colorful, often gorgeous film. The flickering shadows and hellish oranges of Medusa's lair or foggy texture of Calibos' swamps are lovely. At the same time, the visuals rarely draw too much attention to themselves. There's little indication this film was made in the eighties, aside from a little more blood in the violence and some random PG-rated nudity in an earlier moment. The chirping, cute mechanical sidekick of Bubo the owl has been suggested to be an imitation of R2-D2. Ray denied this but I don't know if I believe him. 

For the most part though, “Clash of the Titans” feels like a film unmoored from time. Some of its effects, mostly in terms of compositing that puts actors in locations were they are not, look cheesy now and then. However, the appeal of Dynamation is eternal. “Clash of the Titans” has maybe the most Harryhausen creations per minute-of-screen time of all his works. I'm not sure any of the stop-motion beasties here rival the likes of the Ymir or Talos in terms of sheer personality. I wish the Kraken was a more sympathetic creature than merely a force of destruction. However, it's an unforgettable creation nevertheless, vast in its scale and personable in its movements. The clicking of Medusa's rattle tail, the glare on her reptilian face is unforgettable, the way her two-headed guard dog yelps when injured, the clattering of the huge scorpions or the way the giant vulture cocks its head to the side: Once again, Harryhausen imbues these creatures with little bits of personality and expressiveness, that make them more than special effects. 

In many ways, “Clash of the Titans” is an immensely charming film. There is something to be admired in Harryhausen and his team's staunch refusal to try and blend in with the times. They knew that stately heroism like this, grand adventure, and cool monsters will always appeal to the young at heart. On one hand, a strict focus like this can be narrowing. “Clash of the Titans” is not a thematically complex film. Its characters have few layers, its plot with little complications, and its resolutions are big and broad. When paired with beautiful but clearly old-fashioned effects, the result is a film clearly of the past. Harryhausen announcing his retirement right after its release was an admission that the world had passed his particular niche by. I'm glad he got this victory lap though. As “simple” as this film is, it's also a work of great skill, experts and artisans working doing their best to create pure entertainment. [8/10]

Reykjavik Whale Watching Massacre (2009)

Considering the impact of “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre,” I'm surprised more filmmakers have not emulated the titling scheme of a place, an implement, and a form of murder.  Would you not be intrigued by a motion picture entitled, for example, “The Pennsylvania Blender Homicides?” “Siam Crowbar Fatalities?” “The Utah Spatula Maulings?” I know that would get my butt in the seat! I suppose it's only natural that most tourist destinations would not want to associate their city, state, or country with dismemberment. Of course, Icelandic people are not phased by such concerns. They come from a volcanic wasteland located at the frozen top of the world. They are heartier than that. Also, Gunnar Hansen was Icelandic, meaning that it was only a matter of time before someone from the country would decide to pay homage to Tobe Hooper's classic. Those people were Sjón and filmmaker Júlíus Kemp, with 2009's “Reykjavik Whale Watching Massacre.” Presumably because a lot of Americans do not know that Reykjavik is the capital of Iceland, the film was re-titled to “Harpoon” here in the states. Come on, guys, “Icelandic Harpoon Massacre” was right there!

A group of tourists gather in a dingy port in the capital city, awaiting a dilapidated vessel for a whale-watching tour. Among them are Annette, a Christian woman who recently lost her husband-to-be, and Marie-Anne, an environmental activist who drank too much last night. The rest of the group are made up of an alcoholic Frenchman, three British biddies, a Japanese businessman, his wife and put-upon assistant, and the pragmatic Leon. The captain doesn't spot any whales that day and strays into the fishing territory of former whalers. The Frenchman foolishly ascends the mast, causing an accident that impales the captain. The sleazy first mate abandons ship, leaving the sight-seers adrift. They are found by the same desperate whalers who, their profession no longer viable, have turned to cannibalism and depravity. A fight for survival ensues.

“Whale Watching Massacre” falls thoroughly into the 2000's trend of horror as bleak films that are heavy on intense violence and nastiness. The visual palette is overwhelmingly grey and every surface is caked with grime. The opening credits play over real footage of whales being slaughtered. Victims do not merely die but suffer, being strung up, burned, or abused. That would be one thing but the film is also endlessly mean-spirited. Its secondary female lead is subjected to sexual assault, molestation, and torture. Her aside, the cast is largely made up of national stereotypes that treat each other awfully. The British woman observe Leon, a black man, as nothing but a sexual object. It's revealed that he's a homosexual, which Annette declares “disgusting.” The Frenchman is a cowardly, obnoxious buffoon who pisses his pants. The Japanese businessman is a sexist, insulting lout who treats his assistant – the only other semi-decent person in the film – like a slave. These are mostly awful people and this is a film about watching them be awful to each other, on their way to dying awfully. 

Despite its grimness, most of the press refers to “Reykjavik Whale Watching Massacre” as a “horror/comedy.” As far as I can tell, the only humor on display here comes from these cartoonishly caricatured characters. I guess we are supposed to find these people calling women “bitches” or crassly hitting one each other to be funny. The only actual attempt at humor occurs in a moment blatantly swiped from “Texas Chain Saw Massacre,” when a seeming safe harbor is revealed to be in league with the cannibals. Supposedly, the film belongs to the same tradition of exaggerated grindhouse throw-backs, also popular at the time. This is evident in the exaggerated gore effects. However, that seems to simply reinforce the movie's cynical outlook. If all of these characters are terrible human beings, naturally we would find their violent death amusing and not dispiriting. The decision to play some of the violence as serious and grim and some as comical, when combined with the overwhelming hateful perspective of the film, simply makes this a miserable slog to watch. 

The film also strikes me as free of any tension. I suspect “Wolf Creek” might have been an influence on this. There's a similar structure, in the characters starting out in one situation, hoping they are saved, only to be put into far more dangerous. However, the film has no patience in revealing its “fishbillies” are murderous, leaving little room for suspense. The characters are so thoroughly unpleasant that you don't care whether they live or die. Moreover, the structure of the script is needlessly shuffled up. The story is constantly leaping between its cast, many of them across different locations. At one point, it jumps back to a group of unimportant side characters from the first scene, which contribute in no way to the actual story. It is as if the film is repeatedly working against any attempts to build up proper tension, always diving into a different tone or scenario when any might be mounting. 

Screenwriter Sjón is a high-minded writer usually, known for his poetry and his more recent scripts for Robert Eggers' films. Presumably, he intended “Whale Watching Massacre” to be satirical. Making the entire cast unflattering representations of their nations feels like the kind of half-formed edginess that passed for “satire” in certain circles in the 2000s. Like Leatherface's brood, the cannibalistic whalers have been forced into this lifestyle by the collapse of their business. They blame animal rights activists for whaling falling out of fashion. While the harpoon-wielding maniacs are clearly antagonistic, the movie around them seems to be pro-whaling. An orca getting a harpoon in its skin helps a character out of a major bind and the environmentalist characters are depicted as clueless. While I agree that everyone should be able to make a living, and that certain cultural traditions can be preserved, it's hard to consider the environmental impact of whaling as worth it. When put in the context of the rest of the film's nihilistic nastiness, this feels less like a statement on Icelandic cultural traditions and more like a juvenile proclamation of it being uncool to care about something silly like animal well-fair. 

I think transposing the grim hopelessness of something like “Wolf Creek” or the slaughterhouse satire of “Chain Saw Massacre” into the bitter north of Iceland and its waters was a good idea. That's a hell of a setting for a horror film. I'm always intrigued to see a culturally specific riff on a genre stable like the depraved redneck. I think the whaling industry is pretty terrible but there's certainly a conversation to be had around it. Unfortunately, “Reykjavik Whale Watching Massacre” is thoroughly unpleasant and obnoxious throughout, without any wit, tension, or compelling thoughts behind its cruelty. Though Sjón does include a shout-out to his sometimes band-mate Björk, maximizing the Icelandic content of this one at least. [4/10]

 

Sightings: Poor Souls
 

“Sightings” – a “news” program devoted to reports of UFOs, ghostly activity, cryptozoology, psychic phenomenon, demonic encounters, magik, and any other type of bullshit you can think of – began life on network TV and syndication. Sci-Fi Channel began to include re-runs of the series on its schedule around 1995, before picking the show up for one more season the next year. This is when I started watching. Now, as an understanding skeptic, I can watch “Sightings” as the pop-science mishmash of nonsense and hysteria that it is. However, as a kid, the way the program presented supernatural claims as legitimate reports would always cause a delightful shiver to run up my spine. Basically, I had the relationship with this show that many people a little older than me did with “Unsolved Mysteries.”

This is why I decided to include a random episode of “Sightings” from the Sci-Fi era in this year's line-up. The third broadcast from season four is a typical hour of the program. The topics breached here include UFO sightings in Israel, Area 51, high schoolers pushing for disclosure of government information around the Roswell story, and a woman who claims to have had a near-death experience during a plane crash. An especially hilarious sequence is called “In the News.” This contains quick tidbits about Native American prophecies around the birth of a white buffalo and scientists researching genetic conditions that are speculated to be a possible origin for werewolf legends. “Sightings” hilariously presents this news story as “Does this prove that werewolves are real?” and plays scenes from “Silver Bullet” under it. This is very silly and shows how dubious “Sightings'” reporting in general was. 

The episode begins with a segment entitled “Poor Souls.” It concerns a former poor house farm location – a building that would house the homeless, sick, and dying back in the day – that is now a residential home. As you'd expect with that back story, the people who have lived in the home claim it is haunted. What the family talks about is standard ghost stuff. The thermostat getting messed with, animals dying mysteriously, uneasy feelings in places. Amusingly, the so-called Drawbridge family – that's gotta be a fake name, right? – attributed the patriarch's kidney stone to supernatural influence as well. “Sightings” draws in “psychic investigator” Peter James to poke around the house. It's all the kind of second-hand supposition you'd expect. Several of the interviewed subjects crack visible smiles while telling their tales, making it clear that you should not take any of this shit seriously. 

Having said all of that, this segment really sums up the appeal “Sightings” had to me as a kid. The dramatic reenactments are often shown in black-and-white, depicting people creeping around the old farm house. Watching this now, I can still feel the same spooky shiver run up my spine that I felt as a child. The people who assembled this segment actually make some good use of sound design and editing. You can see this same skill on-display in the much more ridiculous near-death phenomenon episode. The reenactments are dramatically framed, well lit, and paired with perfectly chosen sound bites. It's well done and presents extremely underwhelming evidence. “Poor Souls” has a jump scare and everything, when a pigeon flies right at Peter James' head when he's in the barn. If you have no nostalgia for detritus like this, it would hold little appeal. But this takes me right back to the late nineties, brother. [7/10]
 

 

Friday the 13th: The Series: What a Mother Wouldn't Do

Here's another somewhat atypical episode of “Friday the 13th: The Series,” more about the person using the cursed object to pursue a goal than the Curious Goods team tracking them down. Expecting mother Leslie Kent is told her child will be born stillborn and that carrying the infant to term may end her own life too. She's keepin' her baby, however. Upon passing by Lewis Vendredi's antiques shop, she became enamored with an simple wooden cradle. Now, six months later, her daughter Allison has been born. The cursed cradle is all that is keeping the child alive. Leslie, and her reluctant husband Martin, now must murder seven people with or near water in order to bring their daughter to full health. Their murder spree is what catches the eyes of Ryan, Micki, and Jack who quickly discover that the cradle in question has a link to the sinking of the Titanic.

In some regards, “What a Mother Wouldn't Do” is probably one of the strongest episodes of the show's first season. The premise of the episode puts our heroes in an extremely difficult situation. If they try and stop the murderous parents, it means a literal baby will die. Every time Allison is removed from her eerily rocking cradle, she begins crying in pain. This is a case where the murderous villains have a justifiable motivation. What parent wouldn't go to extreme lengths to protect their child? How this will be resolved is easy enough to predict, what with the way the script keeps emphasizing that two more people must be executed to fulfill the curse. Maybe to make up for the recent run of downbeat conclusions, this one has a happy ending. Some off-screen magical shenanigans must take place for things to play out in this manner and I wasn't crazy about that. However, I think this one has a dramatically sound foundation. 

There's also some well done fright sequences here. When the innocent babysitter is targeted for the next murder, it results in a way done and tense sequence. Martin, wearing a creepy “Alice Sweet Alice” style mask, attempts to drown her in a tub. It's one of the more tensely directed moments in the show so far. I also like the eerie sight of the cradle starting to rock on its own. On the other hand, “What a Mother Wouldn't Do” is heavy on the campiness that has frequently characterized the series. Lynne Cormack goes hideously over-the-top as the mother, driven to act like a cartoonish supervillain by the situation. She contorts her face in expressions of devious horror or shouts at wicked volumes. If an actress with a degree of subtly was cast in the role, this probably would've been a really strong hour. Instead, it walks the fine line of decent ideas and camp so much of this series has occupied. [7/10]

 

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]