Sir Humphrey Appleby: It's to protect us against the French!
Having now turned 30, I would like to refer everyone to the wisdom of Gabe Saporta (no irony here) via crazybutsound. The man says it like I think it. (...well, not word for word, but the gist is the same.)
Mostly, for me, a birthday is just another day. Was it a good day? It was quite a long day, but my work folks are quite amusing. And then at the conclusion of it, I went to see Robin Hood for free, because Hoyts does that on your birthday.
The thing that always puzzles me about criticism of accents in movies like this is: half of them should be speaking French anyway, and the other half should be speaking Old English, so does it really matter what accent they're speaking the wrong language in?
Speaking of which, honestly, I was so excited when it opened up and I realised we were actually going to see the Lionheart in action, and I was thinking hey, here's a great and subtle opportunity to show how he doesn't even speak the same language as his people as a symptom of the divide between ruling class and the ruled which really plugs into their themes of... oh wait, no, there he goes, speaking English. What-the-fuck-ever. (The general state of literacy got a WTF face from me as well. But hey, maybe King Richard instituted a ground-breaking educational policy amongst his troops while they were dicking about the Mediterranean for ten years.)
Really, the problem wasn't Crowe's accent, it was the fact that it was always Russell Crowe talking - he never disappeared into the character even slightly for me. This honestly wasn't helped by the personal-freedom-with-a-brick motif, because every time it lurched its bulk into the script, everyone stopped acting and started pontificating against historic backdrops. BORING. I honestly don't care if they ascribe the Magna Carta to a bizarrely erudite and sword-carrying tradesman, just don't get all woffly on the topic of anachronistic ideas of personal freedoms in the middle of emotively important parts of the movie, guys. (I maybe blame Braveheart for this tendency. Also, the Male and I had a huge debate about whether the Magna Carta could be considered a stepping stone in human rights, but not even I would ever argue that the MC gave a good goddamn about the rights of the common people.)
This was my real problem with the movie - the story drive. This wasn't, as the Male pointed out on our walk home, really a movie about Robin Hood. It was a movie about a French plot to invade England, except Robin playing house with some bird in northern England got more screentime than the actual big story, so it's no wonder the grand finale felt like a place we'd arrived at half by accident, not the destined showdown the entire movie had been building up to - which is what it should have been. Come on, Ridley, I know you can do better than this!
Speaking of which, how did it take the French three days (or however long Robin had to swing through Nottingham in between the announcement that the French were on the water and him finally showing up at the beach) to cross the Channel? Did they get lost? But to be perfectly honest, I don't understand how the French lost the battle when they have people on their side who can manhandle a metal implement containing a forge-like conflagration without even wincing. (Yes, I notice these things. They leap out at me with the power of their stupidity.) Not to mention the leet skillz of their shipwrights, making those D-Day amphibious assault boats.
But I would like a pet King John, please. "It's my first time; I shall lead!" indeed. I'm becoming a rather large fan of Oscar Isaac in general, even if I did spend an unfortunate amount of time in his scenes thinking that he might make a good Falco, if only he had brown eyes... which he does, so I don't know what the fuck was going on there. Anyway.
Look, it was fun, it was a lot more competent than a lot of movies these days (never mind the screaming anachronisms), it had some stirring moments. The big issue was story drive. I'm a huge sucker for the "we must pretend to be married" trope, I don't even know why, so I enjoyed that whole section a great deal as it was happening, but in terms of the overall view of the story, it was a stupid waste. Make it about Robin and northern England and stuff, or make it about the dastardly French plot, or entwine the two more competently, but don't have the main driving force of plot sitting in the wings swigging oysters while the movie meanders.
The image of the moonlit, forest-born hooded vagabond sitting in the middle of the road, arrow nocked was solid gold, however. Credit where credit's due!
PS: Trailer for Prince of Persia. I don't care how magnificently based-on-a-computer-game stupid it's going to be, I am SO gleefully looking forward to this movie. Jake! My girlfriend! (That's Gemma Arterton, for people who aren't the Male.) Outrageous ridiculous swashbuckling shenanigans! Seriously, I could not be more squirmingly anticipatory. This is like the dichotomy that defines me or something. *G*
Mostly, for me, a birthday is just another day. Was it a good day? It was quite a long day, but my work folks are quite amusing. And then at the conclusion of it, I went to see Robin Hood for free, because Hoyts does that on your birthday.
The thing that always puzzles me about criticism of accents in movies like this is: half of them should be speaking French anyway, and the other half should be speaking Old English, so does it really matter what accent they're speaking the wrong language in?
Speaking of which, honestly, I was so excited when it opened up and I realised we were actually going to see the Lionheart in action, and I was thinking hey, here's a great and subtle opportunity to show how he doesn't even speak the same language as his people as a symptom of the divide between ruling class and the ruled which really plugs into their themes of... oh wait, no, there he goes, speaking English. What-the-fuck-ever. (The general state of literacy got a WTF face from me as well. But hey, maybe King Richard instituted a ground-breaking educational policy amongst his troops while they were dicking about the Mediterranean for ten years.)
Really, the problem wasn't Crowe's accent, it was the fact that it was always Russell Crowe talking - he never disappeared into the character even slightly for me. This honestly wasn't helped by the personal-freedom-with-a-brick motif, because every time it lurched its bulk into the script, everyone stopped acting and started pontificating against historic backdrops. BORING. I honestly don't care if they ascribe the Magna Carta to a bizarrely erudite and sword-carrying tradesman, just don't get all woffly on the topic of anachronistic ideas of personal freedoms in the middle of emotively important parts of the movie, guys. (I maybe blame Braveheart for this tendency. Also, the Male and I had a huge debate about whether the Magna Carta could be considered a stepping stone in human rights, but not even I would ever argue that the MC gave a good goddamn about the rights of the common people.)
This was my real problem with the movie - the story drive. This wasn't, as the Male pointed out on our walk home, really a movie about Robin Hood. It was a movie about a French plot to invade England, except Robin playing house with some bird in northern England got more screentime than the actual big story, so it's no wonder the grand finale felt like a place we'd arrived at half by accident, not the destined showdown the entire movie had been building up to - which is what it should have been. Come on, Ridley, I know you can do better than this!
Speaking of which, how did it take the French three days (or however long Robin had to swing through Nottingham in between the announcement that the French were on the water and him finally showing up at the beach) to cross the Channel? Did they get lost? But to be perfectly honest, I don't understand how the French lost the battle when they have people on their side who can manhandle a metal implement containing a forge-like conflagration without even wincing. (Yes, I notice these things. They leap out at me with the power of their stupidity.) Not to mention the leet skillz of their shipwrights, making those D-Day amphibious assault boats.
But I would like a pet King John, please. "It's my first time; I shall lead!" indeed. I'm becoming a rather large fan of Oscar Isaac in general, even if I did spend an unfortunate amount of time in his scenes thinking that he might make a good Falco, if only he had brown eyes... which he does, so I don't know what the fuck was going on there. Anyway.
Look, it was fun, it was a lot more competent than a lot of movies these days (never mind the screaming anachronisms), it had some stirring moments. The big issue was story drive. I'm a huge sucker for the "we must pretend to be married" trope, I don't even know why, so I enjoyed that whole section a great deal as it was happening, but in terms of the overall view of the story, it was a stupid waste. Make it about Robin and northern England and stuff, or make it about the dastardly French plot, or entwine the two more competently, but don't have the main driving force of plot sitting in the wings swigging oysters while the movie meanders.
The image of the moonlit, forest-born hooded vagabond sitting in the middle of the road, arrow nocked was solid gold, however. Credit where credit's due!
PS: Trailer for Prince of Persia. I don't care how magnificently based-on-a-computer-game stupid it's going to be, I am SO gleefully looking forward to this movie. Jake! My girlfriend! (That's Gemma Arterton, for people who aren't the Male.) Outrageous ridiculous swashbuckling shenanigans! Seriously, I could not be more squirmingly anticipatory. This is like the dichotomy that defines me or something. *G*