Review #1,243: 'King Arthur: Legend of the Sword' (2017)

Guy Ritchie may just one of the luckiest film directors in history. After making his name with Cockney gangster movies Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch, he released a double-bill of stinkers so bad that even the utterance of their titles provokes sniggers. Swept Away and Revolver almost killed the career of the Brit before it truly took off, with his highly publicised relationship to Madonna proving far more interesting to the tabloids than any of his desperate output. He returned to his roots with RocknRolla, a motor-mouthed crime comedy which, although sitting well within his comfort zone, was good enough to remind us of why we liked him in the first place. Since then, he's found big-budget success with the Sherlock Holmes films and The Man from U.N.C.L.E. (although the latter tanked at the box-office, it was generally warmly received by those who saw it), and has been handed the keys to his very own franchise, the eternally rebootable story of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table.

It's unclear just how much more input Ritchie will have on this new take on Arthurian legend, as he has just started production on Disney's live-action remake of Aladdin, starring Will Smith as the genie. That, combined with the box-office failure of King Arthur: Legend of the Sword, would surely suggest that this series was dead on arrival, or at least will see it taken in a new direction by Warner Bros., who had been trying to get something off the ground ever since the more grounded 2004 version starring Clive Owen. If this is true, then thank the cinema gods, as this annoying, sickly and exposition-heavy turkey was never going to interest a new generation of cinema-goers in a legend that has fascinated many for years. It trips up during its very first moments, as giant, CGI elephants knock down CGI buildings and send CGI people to their death, removing all the elements that make this old-fashioned myth so endearing by employing a contemporary attitude. Haircuts, fashion and dialogue all fit Ritchie's lad's mag aesthetic.

Everything needs to be big and shiny, and King Arthur opens with a set-piece most movies would choose to climax with. King Uther Pendragon (Eric Bana) is locked in a war with warlock Mordred and an army of mages, with the kingdom of Camelot under threat from their magic. Assisted by his magical sword Excalibur, the King triumphs, only to be betrayed by his evil, pampered brother Vortigern (Jude Law), who arranges a coup to usurp the throne. Only Uther's son Arthur escapes with his life, pushed down a river to be raised by prostitutes in, as you would guess from a Ritchie film, Londinium. He grows up to look like Charlie Hunnam and practises hand-to-hand combat. He also dabbles in petty theft with a small gang of cheeky chappies while unaware of his true heritage. When Uther's sword reappears stuck in a rock near the castle's ground, Vortigern rounds up all the men in the nearby areas to attempt to pull it free. He who succeeds is the true heir to the throne, and therefore destined for the chopping block.

This all sounds like a classic hero's journey set within the medieval fantasy genre, but Ritchie is so intent of shoving modern-day sensibilities down your throat that it's easy to quickly forget the true essence of the story. There are endless visual gags involving a story narrated in the present while we flash back to the actual event, a gimmick employed by Ritchie many times before (but was done far better in Ant-Man), and an abundance of camera-swirling action scenes that resemble a video game cutaway scene. At times, it is the cinematic equivalent of that G-force ride at the fairground, in that you cling to whatever you can and hope it ends before you vomit. At the centre of it all is Hunnam, who follows his turn in Pacific Rim with another charisma-free performance. He is drawn as a tough- working-class hero who would be more comfortable in a pub brawl than ruling a country, but comes across as the kind of meat head seen on a night out starting fights while others insist he's a good guy really. A dick head with a magical sword and royal blood is still a dick head. Many of its flaws could be forgiven were it not such a massive bore. Instead, this will likely induce a headache more than any sense of wonder.


Directed by: Guy Ritchie
Starring: Charlie Hunnam, Astrid Bergès-Frisbey, Jude Law, Djimon Hounsou, Eric Bana, Aidan Gillen, Neil Maskell, Annabelle Wallis
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #349: 'Kill List' (2011)

If there are two genres that the UK do excessively, and not very well (these days), it is the horror and hit-man/gangster genres. Usually flooding the straight-to-DVD market and being picked up by morons who see a promising film when they see Danny Dyer's name above the title, it would seem the British movie industry is indeed in a dire state (especially with the demise of the UK Film Council at the hands of Nick Clegg and uber-cunt prime minister David Cameron). Yet, seemingly out of nowhere, comes Kill List, director Ben Wheatley's sledgehammer second feature after 2009's Down Terrace (which I will certainly be tracking down).

After a disastrous but unspecified mission in Kiev, ex-soldier Jay (Neil Maskell) is living a strained relationship with his wife Shel (MyAnna Buring). When his partner and best friend from Kiev, Gal (Michael Smiley), comes to dinner with his new girlfriend Fiona (Emma Fryer), tensions spill over and Jay loses it, while in the bathroom, Fiona carves a strange witchcraft-like symbol on the back of the mirror. Jay and Gal eventually head out on a new mission set by their shadowy client, and are given a list of people that need killing. After the first, a priest, is killed after thanking them, it seems that they have stumbled upon a child pornography ring. The next victim has stashes of it in his locker, and Jay goes sick on him. As Jay starts a spiralling decline of rage, Gal must try and hold them together. But not all is at it seems, as they eventually come across a strange woodland sacrifice.

You may be forgiven from that synopsis in thinking that it sounds like many a British gangster/revenge flick, but it is anything but. The first half an hour focuses on the drunken dinner party, which at first, seems to be Ken Loach-inspired with a bit of Gary Oldman's Nil by Mouth (1997) thrown in, but soon it becomes more Lars von Trier than anything else. There is a growing discomfort in the proceedings, with an underlying menace simmering beneath the surface, and this prevails throughout the film. Yet as the story moves on, the menace starts to bubble over, and the film becomes almost Lynchian. There's no out-and-out weirdness of a Lynch (the film maintains a neo-realist style throughout), but there's a staggering darkness here, and bursts of screeching industrial soundtrack makes the viewing all the more uncomfortable.

You'll also need a strong stomach, as one scene provides the most shocking and sickening burst of violence I have ever seen on screen, beating even the facial disintegration of Irreversible (2001). Jay is a thug, and feels most at home when at work letting his rage spill over. I almost don't want to say any more as I feel it will ruin the experience, as the climax will alienate as many as it will inspire. For me, the juggling of genres tightly contained in one unsettling film is quite brilliant. The lead performances by Maskell and Smiley are outstanding, but the real star here is Wheatley. I can't remember the last time I've been so excited by a director. This is simply a sensational film. There is hope for the British film industry after all.


Directed by: Ben Wheatley
Starring: Neil Maskell, Michael Smiley, MyAnna Buring, Emma Fryer
Country: UK

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie