I left Tarsem’s newest film, Immortals, thinking that it was
the best bad movie of the year (Ebert called it “the best looking bad film you
will ever see). Its advertising campaign proudly referred to it as coming “from
the producers of 300,” as sure a sign of its quality as any. Supposedly based
on Greek mythology, it tells the story of Thesus, a bastard peasant, as he
helps to save Greece
from the schemes of King Hyperion, who searches for the Epirus Bow in order to
free the Titans.
Theseus, for those who do not know, was not a bastard or a
peasant in Greek Mythology; he was jointly sired by Aegeus, king of Athens, and
Poseidon, each of whom slept with Aegeus’ wife, Aethra, on the same night. The Minotaur
was not a giant man wearing a bull mask, nor was the labyrinth a temple
gravesite. Hyperion was a titan, not a warlord who tried to free the titans.
The titans, generally speaking, were not depicted as blue skinned monsters with
animalistic tendencies, nor did the gods follow a “Star Trek” style prime
directive in their relationship to mortals. Zeus frequently states that mortals
must rely on themselves, that men have limitless potentials and etc.
Immortals makes use of the “digital backlot” technique
popularized by Robert Rodriguez’ Sin City, its heavily stylized visuals reminiscent
of 300. The aesthetic here is that of a comic book adaptation, with everything
that entails. The cast was chosen, as best anyone can tell, based on their
looks. And not necessarily whether or not they look right for their parts as
ancient Hellenic warriors and priestesses and Olympians. It seems a distinct
possibility that casting was done according to how good each member looked in a
costume.
But Eiko Ishioka designed those costumes, so, yeah. And if
Immortals rests entirely on visuals (and it does; the plot and dialog are
either formalities or excuses) those visuals, for once, carry the movie. If a
town etched in a cliff side, whose distance from a deadly drop could be well
measured in feet seems like a geographical and technological improbability, and
obviously a computer generated façade, it is also an image of extraordinary
romance. If the action sequences which make use of Hong
Kong style fight choreography, with spinning fighters and whipping
chains, seem like anachronisms, they are at least visually pleasing and
compellingly so. If Micky Rourke, Frieda Pinto, and Henry Cavill’s acting leave
something to be desired, their faces and bodies leave nothing outside of visual
satisfaction.
Immortals is the work of Tarsem, director of The Fall, The
Cell, and the upcoming Mirror Mirror. Ecstatic visuals are his modus operandi,
and Immortals, he admits, was a willing departure from the tableaux visuals of
his previous films, in which he used photographic tricks to create his vision.
It is true that Immortals bears his trademark sensibility – from the early
depiction of the Titans hanging from bars by their teeth, to visions of an
Olympus free of clouds and sunlight, the audience knows that this film is not a
retread of previous cinematic versions of Greek myth – but it is also true that
reliance on computer generated images diminishes this vision. For all that the
images appear unique; it is abundantly clear how those images were created.
Some would place Immortals as a descendent of 300, or of
Clash of the Titans, or of the Ray Harryhausen films of a bygone era, as a
special effects showcase and a shallow, if not outright misuse of mythic
sources. I think the real antecedent would actually be Mario Bava’s Hercules in
the Haunted World, another work of a true auteur and dynamic cinematographic
virtuoso. Like that film, Immortals is well worth viewing for its style alone,
but is similarly forgettable for every moment that its characters speak rather
than act.
Immortals is obviously less personal than Tarsem's other films. It watches very much like a summer blockbuster, in fact. But it would be a wonderful turn if summer blockbusters could actually attain this level of visual splendor regardless of their hackneyed scripts.
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