Movie Review: Kingdom of Heaven (B-)

“Kingdom of Heaven” is a big movie, and director Ridley Scott has had a lot of success with such ventures. Consider his impressive handling of sweeping, large-scale stories such as “Gladiator,” “Blackhawk Down,” and “Blade Runner.” In this case, Scott again does a spectacular job of bringing a very specific visual world to the screen. Unlike his other successes, however, “Kingdom of Heaven” doesn’t have the plot to support its stunning looks.

The story revolves around Balian (Orlando Bloom), a French blacksmith who has just lost his wife and child in tragic circumstances. He is deep in mourning when Godfrey of Ibelin (Liam Neeson), a great crusading knight, shows up and informs the blacksmith that he is Godfrey’s son, the result of a semi-consensual tryst years ago. Godfrey asks Balian to return to Jerusalem with him. There follows a long and trouble-fraught journey to the holy land. Upon arriving, Balian finds himself in the middle of a political and religious tornado. The Christians currently control Jerusalem, but the ruling Christian king allows all religions to worship in the city and is generally a swell guy to the Muslims in the area. This unrealistically tolearant outlook apparently gives the equally swell Muslim general Saladin reason to put off invading the city with his 200,000 soldiers. But wait, there are bad-guy Christians waiting in the wings for the swell king to die! Whatever will happen then? Without going too much further into the plot, I will tell you the things that you already know: There are some big battles, with lots of carnage and interesting weapons of war, and of course, our hero Balian is right smack in the middle of it all.

As I said, the most impressive aspect of “Kingdom of Heaven” is the cinematography. Scott knows how to capture the essence of a location like few other people. Whether it’s the overcast, frigid landscape of medieval France or the sun-baked, arid deserts of the holy land, you come away with an almost visceral impression of the movie’s various locales. The scenes in and around Jerusalem are nearly breathtaking, as the famous walled city is recreated with a perfect balance of computer graphics and actual set construction (George Lucas, take note please). The interior shots and costumes are similarly lush, and the result is a recreation of an almost mythical place that feels deeply realistic. Additionally, Scott (or his music editor) seems adept at choosing the perfect music for a given location or moment, which substantially enhances the visual impact.

There endeth the heavy praise, as the plot of “Kingdom of Heaven” is a minor mess. As I mentioned above, there is a fair amount of political intrigue in Jerusalem. Some of this makes sense, but historically speaking, I doubt very deeply that there were either Christians or Muslims as tolerant and open-minded as the ones in this movie. The result is a formula in which events (heroic charges, large battles, love intrigues, etc.) happen not because they make sense, but because the movie needs them to happen. For instance, Nice Guy Balian and the Equally Reasonable Muslims fight less for logically sound reasons and more because there must be an obligatory battle scene. Like everything else, the battles are great to watch, but not all of them make a lot of sense.

In addition to the large gaps in logic, there are numerous small ones that are irksome. As an example, consider the resume of Balian. This lifelong blacksmith receives fully five minutes of combat training in a French forest from his father, and that’s it. Upon arriving in Jerusalem, he possesses the following abilities: Exemplary swordsmanship and strategic battle skills. The ability to locate water, dig a well, and irrigate a sizeable piece of desert land. An understanding of how water functions in terms of desert warfare. Command of substantial anti-siege tactics, including the apparent invention of pre-sighted artillery emplacements. I’m willing to accept the elevated abilities of a main character, but movies usually create a back story to justify it. There is none of that here. Balian is just a really spectacular guy.

In addition to the problems of logic, there seem to be too many stories crammed into two hours and twenty five minutes. There is a lot of mucking about before we even get to Jerusalem, and once we’re there the aforementioned political complexities are mixed in with an unnecessary love story, a friendship across enemy lines, complex battle strategies, and a recurring religion vs. humanism theme. As a result, all of the stories are compressed and abbreviated, and the resulting chaos leaves you feeling confused. As a friend of mine put it afterwards, “Tell me what that movie was about.”

As far as the acting goes, everybody is just fine. No one is noticeably good or noticeably bad, just generally adequate. Orlando Bloom gets the job done acceptably if not interestingly. Liam Neeson does a solid job as the self-assured, understated Godfrey, and Jeremy Irons has a nice turn as a gravelly-voiced knight, one of the “good guys” in the political mess of Jerusalem. Eva Green plays a reasonably intriguing love interest to Balian, but she’s not so intriguing that we understand why he’s immediately taken with her.

The bottom line, despite all of the above reservations, is that you should probably see this movie. It’s a little bit long and the plot is a little bit mucky, but the sweeping scale of the entire project is worth seeing on the big screen. Scott has done his usual bang-up job with the visuals, and the result is a movie that is beautiful and intriguing to look at from beginning to end. Check your brain at the door and enjoy the lush scenery, the massive battle scenes, and the viscerally impactful sights of “Kingdom of Heaven.”


Now that's a big battle.

Which Way is Up?

Here's a great photo of jellyfish at the Monterey Bay Aquarium in Monterey, California. Apparently these guys are not concerned about the trivial things in life, such as up and down. Great colors. A slightly larger version is available here.

A Convergence of Stupid

I’m having one of those weeks. You’re familiar with the concept, I suspect. For me, “one of those weeks” consists of a period of time where three forces convene to make my life not so much hell as just deeply and persistently inconvenient. These are the forces of which I speak:

Bad Luck. Everyone has this, and it comes and goes. If you’re on your toes, you can shuck and jive a little bit and some of the small misfortunes of a given day just slide right off. You anticipate that the next three lights are going to turn red, so you turn right at the first one and take the back way. Some goob in the coffee shop bumps your elbow and your beverage goes careening floorward, but you are lightning-quick and able to rescue it from certain disaster only inches from the tile. These sorts of saves, however, are tough if you are not on your toes, which brings us to the next force.

Erratic Motor Skill Control. I’m a reasonably coordinated guy, but there are periods when various physical abilities go completely and unpredictably out the window. Without reason or warning, my hands drop what they’re holding. The coffee table is still two inches further into the room than I had estimated, and – for the third time in an hour - my shin pays the price. The high-water mark for loss of motor skills (challenged only by the incident listed below) was when I managed to knock over my charcoal grill, spilling a herd of red-hot coals onto my second-story wooden deck. Several blenders-full of water prevented total disaster, but dinner was quite ruined.

Generalized Mental Dysfunction. This includes a wide variety of idiotic behavior. My personal forte is forgetting one of my regular pocketed items (keys, wallet, cell phone, sunglasses, iPod) every time I leave the house. It is, of course, a different item every time, thus preventing compensation by leaving notes for myself. “Did you remember your [everything]?” is a pretty stupid note to have to post on the inside of your own front door. Other manifestations have included locking the keys in my car, frantic searching for sunglasses that are already on my face, phoning someone and forgetting why I called, and the always-reliable leaving the house without wearing pants. Okay, I made that last one up, but it’s not unthinkable.

(After reading the above, you may find yourself lowering your opinion of me. In my defense, these three forces (especially two and three) make only rare appearances, and these stretches of “duh” behavior are, in my experience, pretty common to everyone. Before you dock me respect points, remember that occasionally clutzy and absent minded people who live in glass houses will probably run into the walls a lot.)

I can cope with any one of the above forces, and even a convergence of two is doable, but when all three show up at once, my life becomes a perfect storm of incompetence. I am currently adrift in such a tempest. Consider the following events of the past four days:

1. Left the power cord to my laptop in a different state, thus rendering my laptop a very expensive desk decoration.

2. Apparently forgot that charcoal grill (on which dinner was cooking) was hot. Touched grill. Burned fingers. At least nothing spilled.

3. Got locked out on deck when deck door jammed on closing. Broke doorjamb attempting reentry. Deck door now refuses to close fully.

4. Ordered part for iPod, shipped from Taiwan. Part arrived. Was wrong part. Possibly my fault in ordering, possibly fault of Taiwanese factory worker experiencing his own period of Generalized Mental Dysfunction.

5. Washed and dried clothes at mom’s house. Left clothes there.

6. Reminded myself five times that I need to water my flowers. Still have not watered flowers. Am actually pausing right now to water flowers…spilled water on feet while watering flowers.

7. Needed bananas. Forgot, bought oranges instead. Needed English Muffins. Forgot, bought hot dog buns instead.

8. Repeatedly tried to spell “water” with two t’s.

9. On returning late Sunday night from an indoor soccer game, managed to orchestrate the following series of events while talking on my cell phone, carrying my wallet, keys, indoor soccer schedule and water bottle: Attempted to unlock my apartment door. Dropped schedule. Put water bottle under arm, bent down to pick up schedule. Poured water (from open water bottle) onto schedule while bending over. Dropped water bottle. Picked up schedule. Picked up water bottle. Dropped wallet. Wallet fell through opening in stairs, down to first level of apartment building. Threw keys on floor in frustration. Keys fell through same opening. Descended stairs, collected keys and wallet, returned to apartment door. Attempted to unlock door. Dropped schedule again. Bent to pick up schedule, poured more water (water bottle still open) on schedule. Eventually, somehow, got into my apartment with all possessions.

So you see, life this week is a little bit frustrating. Actually, I have never established exactly how long these stretches last. I’ve always been so blinded by frustration (and, of course, Generalized Mental Dysfunction) that I’ve never paid attention to the duration. I’ll try to remember to make a note of it this time, if I don’t forget to make a note or break my fingers trying to use a pen.

The good news is that just at the point of frustration overload it becomes laughable, and all you can do is sit back and take it. You grin and remind yourself that this Convergence of Stupid affects only the relatively minor things in life. I can live with a damp soccer schedule. Mom’s house is not far. I only paid seven bucks for the iPod part. “This too shall pass” becomes a mantra, which is a pretty good mantra to have when life’s details become a train wreck. I still have my health, job, friends, family, and big-picture mental and emotional stability. Things are pretty damn good. Or at least this is what I try tell myself in the pits of frustration, as I am about to bang my head on the steering wheel of my car, surely triggering the airbag and sending me to the hospital with a sprained neck and fractured dignity. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t. Life is a careful balance between appreciating the positive big picture and thrashing about in the brief Convergences of Stupid. I’m trying to thrash less and appreciate more, but sometimes it’s hard to ignore the broken doorjamb, burned fingers, dead computer, and watter all over my feet.

Edvard Munch's reflections on a Convergence of Stupid

Mom Nature Can Paint A Little Bit.

[First, apologies for the long absence. I think that every blog in the universe includes that apology at some point, followed by this excuse: I've been pretty busy lately. I will have another post up by Thursday evening.]

This photo was sent to me with the following location tag: the east side of the Carrizo plain, in the Temblor Range, abut 50 miles due west of Bakersfield, California. California is kind of an odd place people-wise, but it is also where they keep many of the most beautiful views in this country. Wow. Slightly larger version here.

Movie Review: The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy (C)

First off, if you haven’t read anything by Douglas Adams and are considering seeing this movie, don’t. Instead, go buy The Hitchiker’s Guide To The Galaxy, enjoy it, buy the next four books, enjoy them, and then reread the following review and decide if you want to rent the movie.

If you have read some or all of Douglas Adams’s five-book series, you have likely been looking forward to this movie for some time. This review is written mainly for these people, and it contains the following recommendation: temper your expectations heavily. There are a number of grave miscalculations in the movie and only a few successes. I will begin with the problems.

First, the casting and characterizations are off in several important ways. Arthur Dent, as played by Martin Freeman, is just about right in his constantly overwhelmed and clueless state regarding the universe into which he has just been forced, but almost all of the other characters miss the mark substantially. Mos Def finds some comedy as Ford Prefect, but his Ford frequently plays for over-the-top, hysterical humor rather than the laid back to the point of fatalism approach that Adams’s seasoned hitchhiker takes in the books. This works sometimes, but more often it just devolves into American-style slapstick silliness. Zaphod Beeblebrox, played by Sam Rockwell, has exactly the same problem. Zaphod is a character who, in the book version, utters lines like, “Shee, you guys are so unhip it’s a wonder your bums don’t fall off.” Rockwell’s Beeblebrox is like a Texan on speed, always overplaying the moment and never relying on his own deeply held personal sense of cool. His insane physical behavior coupled with his idiotic intellect make him almost painful to watch. Zooey Deschanel’s Trillian isn’t offensive in any way, but neither is she terribly interesting. She certainly isn’t the brilliant, brains-behind-the-idiot-men astrophysicist that Adams originally created, and her role as Arthur’s love interest seems forced. The two other supporting characters, Marvin the robot and Slartibartfast, are pretty much right on the money, which is nice but also not surprising since they seem to have the highest number of lines that are unaltered from Adams’s original.

The nature of several of the other miscalculations falls in line with the characterization problems. The movie consistently plays for drama, action, slapstick, and romance when the true heart of Adams’s novels is the understated, intellectually absurd, dry-witted British cool of every character aside from the displaced earthling Arthur Dent. Even on the rare occasion that Ford or Zaphod do panic in the books, they do it without pratfalls and total hysteria. A love story between Arthur and Trillian drives much of the plot, and it feels extremely contrived and generally distracting. It is worth noting that Adams did finally allow Arthur to fall in love, but not until the fourth book in the series. Why? Because it isn’t that type of story. In Hollywood, however, it is.

The final miscalculation is the utterly mind-crunching compression of the storyline, which is so smashed together as to be nearly incomprehensible. This is probably a result of the necessary confines of a movie-length rendering of the story, but if the movie is going to add a love story between Arthur and Trillian as well as an unexplained trip to meet religious zealot Humma Kavula (a storyline not included in the books), then why must everything else be so rushed?

I realize that I am evaluating the movie solely on the basis of what the books tried to do. There are two reasons for that. The first is that the style and substance of the books are what made them so interesting, and I am frustrated by the movie’s unnecessary alterations in tone. The second is that the movie isn’t good enough to stand on its own. As a free-standing sci-fi movie, it feels (or I imagine it would feel, since I can’t process it without the influence of the books) disconnected and chaotic, with much that we’re meant to understand but that is never quite explained.

The best part of the movie is the way it looks. I suspect that most Guide fans have long desired to see a competent visual representation of all of the various locales described in the novels, and the movie does a pretty good job with all of these. The ponderous, rubbery Vogons are right on, as is the clean white interior of the starship Heart of Gold. Most impressive is the interior of the planet-factory Magrethea, where vast tracts of hyperspace contain multiple planets under construction as well as the countless fascinating pieces of machinery doing the assembly. The one area where the visuals miss the mark is in the Hitchiker's Guide itself. The book is illustrated with lame, low-tech animation, where actual short video clips would be much more effective and potentially funny.

Overall, however, the solid look of the movie doesn’t make up for its many miscalculations. It simply feels like the director didn’t get the humor and wit of Douglas Adams, and the lack of understanding is deeply damaging to the final product. If you’ve been looking forward to this movie for a long time, go see it, but expect only mild satisfaction.

Grade: C


Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz reads his painful poetry to Ford and Arthur. In this scene, there is a voiceover (explaining how bad Vogon poetry is) for much of the poetry reading, which prevents you from actually hearing the poetry. Yet another miscalculation.