A Tale of Two Fairy Tales
Friday night, my wife and I went to see a double feature at the Carolina Theater of Legend and Labyrinth. One of these two has aged well. One of them hasn’t.
Legend, directed by Ridley Scott, is by far the better made film. It’s gorgeous, full of striking tableaus and artfully composed shots. And it’s awful. The script, by William Hjortsberg, is a godawful mess of cliche, illogic, and discontinuity. Tom Cruise, who wears no pants in the entire movie, spends it all either crouching, doing backflips, or grinning like he’s auditioning for a part in Wolf. Tim Curry’s Lord of Darkness lives in a hollow tree five minutes from the enchanted forest, and his only minions are three goblins, some kitchen staff, and a choreographer. Mia Sara’s Princess Lily is a horror; the fact that she is vacant-faced pretty and wears a nice dress does not make up for the fact that her willful decision to muck with the unicorns got a baby flash-frozen. (Let me repeat that: DEAD BABY. You don’t deserve a fairy tale ending if your stupid crap results in DEAD BABY.) Everything is covered in glitter and moves in slow motion, and what isn’t covered in glitter is covered in fake snow or fake flower petals or - ugh. Hell, even Evil’s hooves have glitter on them.
Labyrinth, by contrast, has the feel of a Muppet production, even if it doesn’t feature any of the usual suspects. It’s wildly uneven in places, the musical numbers (with the exception of the ball sequence and David Bowie’s closing plea) tend to derail the film’s momentum, and whoever thought letting Bowie wear tights like that in what’s putatively a kids’ movie was out of their minds. (My friend Paul came to the movie in order to play the David Bowie Codpiece Drinking Game - take a swig every time the Goblin King’s little goblin is front and center. He ran out of beer halfway through the film).
Yet there’s undeniable power and subtlety there. The sequence with the garbagewoman loading down heroine Sara with the detritus of her childhood is chilling. The visual design of the labyrinth and the creatures dwelling within it is endlessly delightful, as opposed to Legend’s rote critters. And at the end, when Sara confronts the Goblin King and his offer for her to remain safely a child forever - because that’s what he’s really offering, a permanent escape into fantasy and away from adult responsibility - she shows more strength and self-awareness than a half dozen “strong female leads” who are largely defined by their ability to punch people in the neck. She’s in control when the movie ends; of herself and her life, and it’s now safe for her to indulge in the world of fantasy because it’s her active decision to do.
Not bad for a bunch of Muppets.
Legend, directed by Ridley Scott, is by far the better made film. It’s gorgeous, full of striking tableaus and artfully composed shots. And it’s awful. The script, by William Hjortsberg, is a godawful mess of cliche, illogic, and discontinuity. Tom Cruise, who wears no pants in the entire movie, spends it all either crouching, doing backflips, or grinning like he’s auditioning for a part in Wolf. Tim Curry’s Lord of Darkness lives in a hollow tree five minutes from the enchanted forest, and his only minions are three goblins, some kitchen staff, and a choreographer. Mia Sara’s Princess Lily is a horror; the fact that she is vacant-faced pretty and wears a nice dress does not make up for the fact that her willful decision to muck with the unicorns got a baby flash-frozen. (Let me repeat that: DEAD BABY. You don’t deserve a fairy tale ending if your stupid crap results in DEAD BABY.) Everything is covered in glitter and moves in slow motion, and what isn’t covered in glitter is covered in fake snow or fake flower petals or - ugh. Hell, even Evil’s hooves have glitter on them.
Labyrinth, by contrast, has the feel of a Muppet production, even if it doesn’t feature any of the usual suspects. It’s wildly uneven in places, the musical numbers (with the exception of the ball sequence and David Bowie’s closing plea) tend to derail the film’s momentum, and whoever thought letting Bowie wear tights like that in what’s putatively a kids’ movie was out of their minds. (My friend Paul came to the movie in order to play the David Bowie Codpiece Drinking Game - take a swig every time the Goblin King’s little goblin is front and center. He ran out of beer halfway through the film).
Yet there’s undeniable power and subtlety there. The sequence with the garbagewoman loading down heroine Sara with the detritus of her childhood is chilling. The visual design of the labyrinth and the creatures dwelling within it is endlessly delightful, as opposed to Legend’s rote critters. And at the end, when Sara confronts the Goblin King and his offer for her to remain safely a child forever - because that’s what he’s really offering, a permanent escape into fantasy and away from adult responsibility - she shows more strength and self-awareness than a half dozen “strong female leads” who are largely defined by their ability to punch people in the neck. She’s in control when the movie ends; of herself and her life, and it’s now safe for her to indulge in the world of fantasy because it’s her active decision to do.
Not bad for a bunch of Muppets.