dir. Wolfgang Petersen
Opens Fri May 14.
Wolfgang Petersen's Troy claims to be "inspired by Homer's The Iliad," though just how deep that inspiration turned out to be I'll leave for scholars to decide. Homer can be a bit of a slog, after all, and although a real film critic would surely reach for dusty copies of both The Iliad and The Odyssey in preparation for a review, I couldn't bring myself to do it. The last time I plowed through Homer I was fresh from high school, and I don't have many fond memories of the experience; it would take much more than this disposable epic to make me delve into it again.
The hero of Troy is Achilles, the "unconquerable hero" with a weak ankle. Fleet of foot, possibly the son of a god (and therefore immortal), Achilles' very name brings trembles to both kings and soldiers everywhere. He is, so says the word on the street, the world's greatest warrior, and in Petersen's mind such an awe-inspiring character should be played by Brad Pitt. In my mind, however, Pitt is not nearly dangerous enough for the role. Achilles sent soldiers fleeing in cowardice; Pitt sends men sprinting to the gym. Achilles was an arrogant warrior; Pitt is a carb-free hunk of dynamite genes--both men, I suppose, are worship-worthy, but the result of their combination is little more than a bland, but pretty, "unconquerable hero."
Bland, but pretty--as it turns out, a fairly solid description of Troy on the whole. Wherever Wolfgang Peterson's talent ran off to, I'm sure he'll pay a handsome reward for its return, for Troy is far too stock and far too obvious to be a success. Big-budget sword-and-sandal epics were dealt an unfortunate boost to the ego when Gladiator nabbed Best Picture, and I worry that Troy may just be a rev-up to an unwarranted full-blown revival. Do we really need more films about honkies with swords and fragile accents? Me thinks no, but then sword-and-sandal epics have never been all that interesting to me. I prefer my violent spectacles to have a certain amount of flair, and lumbering, sloppy sword-and-shield clashes rarely offer a thrilling sight. Bang! Clang! Bomp!--such tomfoolery may be a blessing for onomatopoeia (not to mention sound designers), but onscreen it is usually reduced to just a loud, dusty blur. Petersen, for his part, attempts to solve this problem by having his characters dodge spears with ballerina-like pivots, and on more than one occasion he gently sails his camera over the carnage, hoping the clash of massive CGI armies will make the audience whoop. For the most part, though, it doesn't, which means the biggest swords left in Troy's arsenal--story and performance--need to step up.
On the story front, things are swell; Homer's tale, as punishing as it can be, is heavy with drama. The performances, on the other hand, are surprisingly scattershot. As Priam, King of Troy, Peter O'Toole's brief appearances are a welcome sight, and Eric Bana, having survived Ang Lee's The Hulk, broods and worries suitably as Hector. Beyond these two, however, things are a bit of a mixed bag. As the power-mad Agamemnon, Brian Cox is fun to watch, if a little too comical, while Orlando Bloom, as Paris, the cowardly prince whose love for Helen led to the Trojan War, spends the majority of his screen time hunting for a whiff of inflection in his voice. And Helen, the face that launched a thousand ships? Petersen offers up Diane Kruger, a woman of proper beauty but ugly line delivery--a problem that may not be entirely her fault, given the painfully thick script she has been handed by writer David Benioff. (Early on, when Paris sneaks into Helen's room for a little Trojan coitus, Helen tells him, "You shouldn't be here." Paris' reply? "That's what you said last night." Egads.)
Of course, it should be noted here that, all my bluster aside, Troy shouldn't be critiqued as a film. It's not a film--it's a spectacle; big of budget, slow of intellect, and littered with the pretty, it exists not to change the world, or even to really enhance it, but to line pockets with box office treasure. And as such, it shares much with its villain Agamemnon. Like the dastardly king, Troy will invade theaters with a mighty army of prints, its golden warrior Brad Pitt leading the charge. I have always liked Pitt, and I'm not afraid to admit it (his performance in Guy Ritchie's Snatch remains a brilliant fit of comedy), but here he can't carry things on his mighty shoulders; buffed and bronzed, he is nonetheless far out of his element, delivering his lines with stinted passion. Achilles is a conflicted man--he fights for himself, not for any specific king--but there is very little depth to be found in him here, just as there is very little to be found in Troy itself. Achilles fights so that his name will be remembered throughout eternity. Troy will surely be forgotten by the end of the summer--if not, then we've all been suckered by the big wooden horse.
