eht5y

I was first introduced to this and other 'Emmanuelle' films in the early days of Cinemax (or 'Skin-emax', as we used to call it) and other pay-cable channels that started featuring soft-core porn after midnight on the weekends. In the early 80s--when the government was cracking down on pornography and the market for direct-to-video softcore porn had yet to be plumbed--cable outlets like Cinemax had few options for 'dirty movies' that didn't cross the hardcore threshold other than the small brace of adult films passing themselves off as 'European art-house' cinema to American audiences during the mid-to-late 70s. Other examples include Lady Chatterley's Lover (also starring Kristel, in an adaptation that would surely have humiliated poor D. H. Lawrence), Felicity, and Melody in Love, but the Emmannuelle franchise opened the proverbial floodgates (the title character in 'Felicity'--another story about a young woman on an adventure of sexual self-discovery in the far east--is seen reading the novel on which 'Emmannuelle' is based while traveling by plane to Bangcok).

As has been amply examined, the 'Emmannuelle' films are burdened with ponderous, annoying pretentiousness, and the audience must sit through way too much boring down-time between sex scenes that tend to tease more than satisfy. In this sense, 'Emmanuelle 2' and its ilk aren't bad for 'getting in the mood,' but compared to even the soft-core porn of today, these films are quaint. But they are fascinating as period pieces, and they are very sensual and erotic when compared to the rather mechanical and listless banging together of surgically enhanced bodies that dominates the adult film market today. Sylvia Kristel is no actress (apparently, she was so bad that her dialogue was overdubbed by another actress in the first 'Emmannuelle' film), and she is not the most beautiful woman ever to get naked in front of a camera, but this is part of her appeal: she has the face and body of a real woman, and she seems genuinely turned on (in that vaguely-detached, dreamy European way) by what she's doing.

But what a nostalgia trip! Sylvia Kristel introduced so many horny young boys with pay cable to the joys of sex in foreign locales and strange places. The concept of two women making love to each other was completely unknown to me before I met Emmanuelle! I can't help but laugh thinking back to how much of my sexual education I owe to the Emmanuelle films and the other naughty Euro-trash skin-flicks Cinemax kept in heavy rotation throughout the 80s. Mom and Dad were way too uptight and repressed to fill me in--thank goodness cable television was there to explain everything.

'King Arthur' is a curious production that has understandably aroused quite a bit of disagreement among critics, historians, and fans of the Arthurian legend. But really--this is a Jerry Bruckheimer production, people! Let's keep the operation in perspective! Bruckheimer has always been about one thing, and one thing only: spectacle, a.k.a. cheap thrills. 'King Arthur' might be gift-wrapped as a revisionist history, but it's a popcorn movie, plain and simple, and as such, it is for the most part a success.

The main premise of the film, of course, is that the Arthur of legend was not, in fact, the magical king of Camelot, but, rather, a half-Roman, half-Celtic warlord--the captain of a clan of Sarmatian knights pressed into service to the Roman Empire as young men. Our tale is narrated by Lancelot (Ioan Gruffudd), who (like Arthur) is introduced as a young boy on the day of his departure for his 15-year term of service to the Emperor of Rome. The film jumps ahead to the final days of that term, rejoining the characters as seasoned warriors: the familiar names are there--Arthur (Clive Owen) and Lancelot, joined by Gawain, Galahad, Bors, Dagonet, and Tristan. Although most of these characters bear little to no characteristic resemblance to their legendary precedents (Galahad, for instance, is traditionally described as Lancelot's son, not his contemporary; Bors is usually described as pious and devout, as opposed to his rugged, profane characterization in this film; Dagonet--heroic in this version--is usually represented as Arthur's court fool), the actors each manage to project strong, distinct characters for the audience to identify with. Especially strong are Ray Winstone (Sexy Beast) as Bors, Ray Stevenson as a quietly heroic Dagonet, and Mads Mikkelsen, who nearly steals the film as Tristan, here presented as a falconer and expert archer in Asian/Mongolian-style dress and armaments. The fine performances of these actors were clearly noted by casting directors: Winstone is set to play another early English epic hero--Beowulf--in a forthcoming adaptation; Stevenson was cast as another formidable but good-hearted warrior in HBO's 'Rome'; Mikkelsen--a star in his native Denmark, but an unknown elsewhere prior to 'King Arthur'--is set to play the villain in the forthcoming James Bond film, 'Casino Royale.' The basic plot positions Arthur and his knights as having earned their freedom towards the beginning of the Roman Empire's decline and fall. No longer able to afford the human and material expense of holding its most distant territorial outposts, Rome has decided to abandon Britain, leaving it to be fought over by its various tribal factions and invaders from neighboring lands. The history is fuzzy here, but again, this is an action movie, not a documentary, so picking apart the historical inaccuracies seems beside the point.

The Romans are in full retreat, but the Bishop Germanius (Ivano Marescotti) won't give the Sarmatian knights their discharge papers until they complete a final task: rescue a young Roman noble beloved by the Pope whose family estate lies in the path of the Saxon invaders. The men reluctantly accept the charge out of loyalty to Arthur, who prays to his Christian god for the safety of his pagan knights (another big deviation from Arthurian legend, in which Christianity figures heavily as part of the code of chivalry).

The film's advertising gives top-billing (along with the infamous digitally-enhanced bust) to the sublime Keira Knightley, but her Guinevere appears late in the action, so don't rent this one expecting to see too much of her. In this version of the story, Guinevere is the daughter of Merlin (Steven Dillane), who is initially Arthur's enemy, as he leads a tribe of Woads (a version of the Picts), native peoples of Britain who wage war on the Roman invaders Arthur and his Sarmatian Knights serve. Eventually, Arthur and Merlin join forces (thanks to Guinevere) to defend Britain against the invading Saxons, led by Cerdic (Stellan Skaarsgard, who seems to be really enjoying himself playing a bloodthirsty viking).

This scenario affords director Antoine Fuqua plenty of room for expansive battle sequences, some of which meet and even exceed the standard set by 'Braveheart' for the genre. There's quite a bit of gore, and at times the battles seem endless and repetitive, though there are a few fine sequences, especially a battle that takes place on the frozen surface of a lake (nevermind that a Saxon army would never have invaded in winter; snow battles are cool!). The first half of the film allows for some nice, subtle character development for the knights, but without the familiar antagonists and problems (Mordred, Morgan La Fey, the Lancelot-Guinevere-Arthur love triangle, which is barely hinted at in the film), Arthur is a generic hero whose battle-cries for freedom are both contradictory and achingly derivative of 'Braveheart.' Clive Owen is a fine actor who acquaints himself well here, but his character is dull and one-dimensional, and seems much less compelling than secondary characters like the enigmatic Merlin, the intrepid Tristan, and the courageous Dagonet.

Nevertheless, I felt like I got what I paid for from 'King Arthur.' The acting is above average, the costumes are cool, the villain is nasty and scary, the fight sequences are well-staged and visceral, and the soundtrack appropriately martial and dramatic. While I can understand why Old English history and Arthurian legend buffs might object to it, I think I'd prefer this film to one which tried to recreate the aspects of the myth already portrayed in other Arthur films, especially 'Excalibur,' which, for my money, is the gold standard of King Arthur flicks.

mild spoiler possibilities below . . .

Like a lot of others who have commented, I initially stayed away from 'The Beach' because of the bad reviews and the nonsensical casting of Leonardo DiCaprio, who seemed then (and now) to be a relatively poor choice to play the lead of Richard (apparently, Danny Boyle originally promised the role to Ewan MacGregor but was persuaded by the money-people to renege the offer and cast Leo, hot off the massive success of 'Titanic'--a slight which damaged their long-standing working relationship and led MacGregor to refuse the lead in Boyle's '28 Days Later,' which ended up going to Cillian Murphy). But I caught 'The Beach' on cable TV, and, while it is ultimately sort of a mess, I was riveted by the direction and the appealing scenario of a small group of neo-hippie travelers trying to form a Utopian community on a hidden Thai beach.

What makes the film so engrossing is Boyle's trademark style, combining stunning visuals, a cast of typically striking and attractive actors, and the innovative use of sound-tracking with irresistibly quirky and hip pop music.

The scenario: Richard is backpacking alone across Asia, partying in the various idyllic hot-spots with like-minded young people, when he encounters the aptly-named Daffy (Robert Carlyle), who describes to Richard a rumored a perfect, 'hidden beach' off the coast of Thailand where a group of 'beautiful people' live in a perpetual state of bliss, playing on the beach and living off fruit, fish, and copious amounts of potent free-range cannabis. The unstable Daffy checks out of the party hotel by carving up his own wrists, but leaves behind a map to the hidden beach, which Richard discovers. Richard decides to go out in search of the beach, and takes along a young French couple he befriends along the way.

Eventually the trio discovers the fabled beach, hidden in a cove on a government-controlled island and known to exist only by the people who live there and a corrupt group of Thai dope-farmers, who tolerate the presence of the Utopian community so long as they keep it secret and do not invite any new residents. The community is governed by its founders, principally Sal (Tilda Swinton), a regal, quasi-aristocratic hippie goddess. Indeed, it seems like the most important requirement in qualifying for membership in the community is being lean, hip, beautiful, and European (Richard is the only American). The group accepts the new arrivals, on the condition that they will not leave and that no one knows where they are or how to find them. Life seems perfect: they live off the land, sleep in a Swiss Family Robinson-ish compound, and re-stock themselves occasionally with worldly amenities (tampons, batteries for CD-players and hand-held video games, soap and shampoo, etc.) with clandestine trips to the mainland where Sal sells big bags of dope to a hotelier who keeps the island secret in exchange for a cheap source of grass to sell to the tackier late-adolescent tourists.

All goes well for a while, until, predictably, 'trouble in paradise' emerges due to the typical jealousies and conflicts that are bound to happen in a scenario with a limited number of options for love and sexual companionship. Furthermore, Richard's position is imperiled by the fact that, before coming to the beach, he foolishly left a copy of the map with a pair of happy-go-lucky American stoners who had befriended him.

Then a tragic event forces Richard and his naive friends to face the fact that, Utopian free-love idealism aside, Sal and her co-horts will act ruthlessly and callously to protect the sanctity of their island paradise. It's a typical 'Lord of the Flies' sort of scenario, not particularly believable or persuasive.

The film was rightly judged as a failure, and the onus rests on two major factors: the casting of DiCaprio, and the collapse of the screenplay into incoherence at the mid-point.

Leo has finally started to mature into a leading-man quality actor, but he was too thin and boyish when 'The Beach' was made to be believable as the maverick Richard. Many have bemoaned the decision to make Richard (an Englishman in the source novel) American, and it's safe to conclude that this decision was a cynical effort to appeal to US audiences by giving them a lead they can identify with more directly, played by a popular US actor. DiCaprio is a great actor, but it's hard to buy scrawny Leo as the principle object of female desire when he's surrounded by a cadre of buffed up Euro-studs.

MacGregor would have made a much better Richard, undoubtedly, but even that wouldn't have saved the film, which careens off a self-indulgent neurotic cliff when the Richard character 'cracks up' in the film's final third. The narrative momentum grinds to a halt and never really recovers, and the conflict resolves itself with a disappointingly anti-climactic confrontation.

Not a great film by any means, but it's gorgeous to look at, the actors are appealing (even Leo, despite being miscast, is engaging and relatively fun to watch), and, most of all, it's fun to fantasize about what it might be like to stumble into a world where the days consist of nothing more than frolicking on the beach, feasting on the bounty of the sea and the fat of the land, balling with the beautiful people, and staying high.