Synopsis: As a
child, Conan (Jorge Sanz) is taught the Riddle Of Steel by his father (William Smith). A
marauding band sweeps into Conan’s village, slaughtering the adults, including his
parents; capturing the children, who will be sold into slavery; and taking all the
weapons, which are made of steel. Conan focuses upon the band’s leader, Thulsa Doom
(James Earl Jones), and his standard, two snakes over a black sun and moon…. As an
adult, the slave Conan (Arnold Schwarzenegger) is turned into a pit fighter. He proves to
be such an expert killer that he is taken to the East to be trained in the martial arts,
and in writing and language, poetry and philosophy. Given his freedom, Conan begins a
relentless search for his parents’ killers. Chased by wolves across a plain, Conan
falls into an underground cavern. Lighting a fire, he finds himself in a ruined
throne-room, surrounded by skeletons in armour. Conan takes the steel sword of the body on
the throne, becoming convinced that these are the earthly remains of his god, Crom. As he
continues on his journey, Conan is invited into the home of a woman (Cassandra Gaviola)
who tells him that his coming was prophesied; that one day he will, by his own hand,
become a king; that he will crush the snakes of the earth…. At this, Conan reacts
violently, describing the banner carried by the band that destroyed his village. The two
have sex. In the middle of the act the woman transforms, first into a snarling demon,
which Conan throws from him, then into a fire-ball. She vanishes into the night…. The
next morning, Conan finds a man chained up nearby. He frees the man, who introduces
himself as Subotai (Gerry Lopez), thief and archer. The two become comrades, searching
together for a clue to the killers of Conan’s parents. Finally, they are told of a
snake cult that has spread across the land. Subotai takes Conan to the Tower of the
Serpent where, he promises, lies wealth without end and the greatest jewel of all –
the Eye of the Serpent. However, someone is before them: a female warrior-thief named
Valeria (Sandahl Bergman). The three join forces, climbing the tower. Inside, people in
white robes are carrying out a ritual. Valeria points out Rexor (Ben Davidson), High
Priest of the cult, second only to Thulsa Doom. She then sends the men into an underground
pit, while she steals some robes and joins the ritual as a girl prepares to sacrifice
herself…. Conan and Subotai find the Eye of the Serpent, an enormous ruby. Conan
lifts it from its resting place. As he turns to leave, he sees a hanging bearing the
standard he has been searching for: two snakes, facing each other, above a black moon and
sun. So engrossed is he in his discovery that he fails to notice that he is not alone: a
gigantic python is moving towards him….
Comments: What, more
Arnold!? Yes, indeedy. After a couple of false starts to his cinematic career (which we
will, in due course, be examining here), Arnold established himself as a "star"
(if not necessarily as an actor) by taking the lead role in Conan The Barbarian.
The film itself is a surprisingly well-made fantasy-epic. It was both extremely successful
in its own right, and enormously influential. The sword ‘n’ sandal film, which
became popular after the release of The Labours Of Hercules in 1957 and died away a
decade later, was revived in the wake of Conan, but with a new twist: the sword
‘n’ sorcery film was born. In America, the first cab off the rank was The
Sword And The Sorcerer, which was released the same year as Conan, and which
unleashed Albert Pyun upon an unsuspecting world. This was followed by the inevitable Conan
sequel, Conan The Destroyer; further Howard adaptations in Red Sonja and Kull
The Conqueror; odd co-productions such as Hundra and Wizards Of The Lost
Kingdom; and the Beastmaster and Deathstalker series. Meanwhile, Italy
came to the party with the Ator series, and some other legendary clunkers including
Yor, The Hunter From The Future. What distinguishes Conan The Barbarian from
most of these imitations is not its acting, which is truly not that much better here than
elsewhere; nor its plot, which is perfunctory; nor its special effects, which are nothing
special; but the absolute seriousness with which it is treated by its makers. (Well,
let’s face it: neither John Milius nor Oliver Stone is exactly known for his sense of
humour, is he?) The majority of the sword 'n' sorcery knock-offs that followed chose to
take a lead from The Sword And The Sorcerer, and play their material for camp. Conan,
on the other hand, is handled like high art. This dead-straight seriousness could have
turned the entire project into a debacle, but miraculously, it worked. Conan The
Barbarian is long for a film of its type, and that it never drags is a credit to its
writers and director. A lot of thought and care (and money) went into the making of this
movie, and it shows. The result is, if not a great film, then an exciting and bloody
spectacle with a welcome sense of grandeur.
One of the biggest flaws in Conan The
Barbarian is the character of Conan himself. He simply isn’t very interesting. He
undergoes no change – unless starting out mad and getting madder counts as
"change". He grows physically, but not spiritually. He develops as a warrior,
but not as a human being. Of course, it is entirely possible that this is exactly what
John Milius intended. Perhaps it is Conan’s very simplicity and single-mindedness
that in the director’s opinion, marks him for greatness. The film does in fact
radiate a love of "when men were men" (and women were "breeding
stock"); there is an almost wistful longing for a time when people solved their
problems not by talking, but by hacking at each other with swords until one of them died.
At this Conan does excel; the difficulty for the viewer is translating that ability into a
belief in Conan’s "greatness". Schwarzenegger’s woodenness is a major
liability here. It is clear that John Milius chose his cast for their physical attributes,
not their thespian qualities; and on the whole this was a wise move, as the frequent fight
scenes are brutally convincing. However, when his characters are finally called upon to
speak, we have a problem. Conan, this king in the making, this leader of men, has about
thirty lines of dialogue in the whole two-hour film – and two of those are
exclamations of, "Crom!" (Another whole two are directed at Conan’s great
love, Valeria, when they first meet. After the pair become lovers, he never speaks to
her.) Arnold may – hell, does – look the part, but when he opens his
mouth, it’s hard not to wince. Milius’ decision to restrict his dialogue was
wise, but it makes it difficult for the viewer to see Conan as anything more than a
killing machine. In an effort to overcome this, we are given told from the outset (and
again later in the film) that Conan will become a king "by his own hand". The
wizard who narrates the story refers to Conan throughout as "my master" –
if a wizard’s serving him, he must be great, right? And when Conan suffers a
tragic loss late in the film, it is his loyal companion, Subotai, who cries –
"because he will not". And so on it goes, all of it intended to convince
the audience of Conan’s less tangible qualities, but on the whole falling short of
the intended mark. Less successful still is our brief, narrated glimpse of Conan’s
training. That he became adept at the martial arts we can believe, but when we are further
told that he was given access to "language and writing", to "poetry and
philosophy"---well, it all becomes a bit difficult to swallow; unless, that is, the
"philosophy" he was taught was "if you can’t say something nice,
don’t say anything at all".
Okay, now I’m going to say something I
truly never expected to say when I set out to review this film. Do you know what I really
enjoyed about Conan The Barbarian? Sandahl Bergman. Honestly! My only previous
experience of Bergman as an "actress" was in Red Sonja, a film in every
way grossly inferior to this one, and my memories of her were not very kind. Imagine my
surprise when her Valeria turned out to be one of the brightest spots in this production.
Cast, like Schwarzenegger, for her athleticism (she was a professional dancer before
turning to acting), Bergman nevertheless gives an enthusiastic, if not particularly
skilled performance. Valeria is smart, strong, and good at her job. (Okay, so her job is
being a thief. In this world, that’s practically honourable.) She can match the men
in her handling of a sword, and displays an iron-nerve at every step. She and Conan are
partners, equals, not merely lovers. (Interestingly, we get the same sense of equality in
the brief glimpse we are given of Conan’s parents – an odd touch, perhaps, in a
story that sees women generally dismissed as breeders, sex objects, or mere pawns in the
manoeuvring of men.) When their brief idyll is brought to an end by Conan’s
acceptance of King Osric’s mission, she first tries to talk him out of it. When this
fails, and he leaves her, she follows him anyway, and saves his life when his abortive
attempt to infiltrate Thulsa Doom’s cult ends in his crucifixion. When Conan lies
close to death, Valeria swears to him that nothing can separate them; that if he needed
her, she would return to him even from beyond the grave - a promise which, in due time,
she keeps. In short – she’s way too good for him. Now, I don’t want
to oversell Bergman’s contribution here. Her acting isn’t much better than
Arnold’s; but still, it’s effective. And unlike Arnold, Bergman has to deal with
dialogue – Valeria is a lot chattier than either of her male comrades (which
isn’t saying much, granted). While her delivery leaves a bit to be desired, she does
get some memorable lines, such as her initial encounter with Conan ("Do you know what
horrors lie beyond that wall?" "No." "Then you can go
first!"), and her attempt to talk him out of his quest ("All my life I have been
alone. Many times I have faced death with no-one to know…."). If only she'd
spent one less week working with the swordmaster while preparing for this film, and one
more week working with the dialogue director---well, we might have really had something.
What acting chops this film has lie elsewhere
– first of all, with Max von Sydow as King Osric. Von Sydow’s appearance is
little more than a glorified cameo, but he makes the most of it, sitting almost without
moving and letting his effortlessly-delivered dialogue sweep over his muscle-bound
co-stars. The real star of Conan The Barbarian, however – and the
film’s biggest problem – is James Earl Jones as Thulsa Doom. Jones towers over
this film like a colossus, his acting ability and his charisma – and that wonderful
voice - combining to create an unforgettable character – and to throw the production
completely off-balance. Doom is by far the most interesting thing about this story; and
frankly, I would rather have spent more time with him, and less with Conan & Co. Conan
may be a one-note character, but Doom is not. When we first see him, he is the leader of a
band of brigands who pillage the countryside and deal in slavery. When he appears next, he
is the head of a new and powerful movement (which is called a "cult", not a
"religion", so we know it’s bad), and possessed of magical powers.
How did he get from one extreme to the other? Did he always have such powers? (It’s
possible that he did: in the opening scene, Doom effectively hypnotises Conan’s
mother into standing still and letting him kill her.) How has his cult grown from
"just another snake cult", to have spread across the land? Is it Doom’s
powers alone that draw his followers to him, or is there more to it? Questions such as
these nag at the viewer, no matter how much the screenplay struggles to deflect attention
from them. A significant moment comes when King Osric describes the loss of his daughter,
and he mourns that, "There comes a time when the jewels cease to sparkle – when
the gold loses its lustre – when the throne-room becomes a prison." It never
occurs to him, or course, that it may have been precisely this feeling that drove his
daughter to Thulsa Doom. Instead he complains that, "She seeks for the truth of her
soul – as if I could not give it to her!" Well, Osric, obviously you couldn’t.
Unsurprisingly, the threat to Osric’s daughter is ultimately couched in sexual terms
– "She is to be his!" – which shies away from the issue of her
needs being spiritual rather than physical.
Indeed, spiritual matters generally are not
handled very respectfully in Conan The Barbarian, which implies - not to put too
fine a point on it - that religion is for wussies. Conan’s relationship with his god,
the subterranean Crom, seems more like something you’d find in a buddy picture than
that of worshipper and idol. "Valour pleases you, Crom, so grant me this one request:
grant me revenge!" Conan famously prays at one point. "And if you do not listen,
then the HELL with you!" Similarly, the wizard's dealings with the spirits of the
plain are also couched in terms of quid pro quo. "Do the spirits owe you any
favours?" Valeria demands of him, as she and Subotai fight to save Conan's life. The
wizard paints Conan's skin with magical symbols (shades of Kwaidan), but when the
spirits do arrive, it is not these symbols that save him, but the courage and strength of
the two thieves, who literally fight them off. This is a world where the mystical can be
conquered by anyone who can handle a sword or throw a punch. Conversely, Thulsa Doom's
followers, who do worship, who do seek something beyond the merely temporal,
are depicted as helpless and delusional. Their spiritual questing is foolishness at best;
at worst, a weakness to be exploited - which the power-hungry Doom proceeds to do. A
certain ambiguity enters the story here, as it is not entirely clear whether the cultists
are drawn and controlled by Doom’s magical powers, or simply by the force of his
personality – the latter a distinct possibility. Whatever the ultimate cause,
Doom’s own motives are clear enough: his megalomania feeds upon his followers’
subjection. When a woman commits suicide at Doom’s mere word ("Come to me, my
child," he says gently to a woman standing upon a ledge above him, and she instantly
does, very directly), it is as frightening as it is convincing – and was even more
so, I imagine, at the time when this film was released. Only four years earlier, the world
sat stunned at the revelations of the Jonestown massacre, when 913 people died in a mass
murder-suicide at the command of their leader, Jim Jones. Doom’s cult, marked by both
cannibalism and willing human sacrifice, is certainly intended to echo its real-life
counterpart.
The film boasts three showdowns between Conan
and Doom, each fascinating in its own right. The first comes when Conan, unwisely ignoring
the pleas and arguments of his companions, sets out alone to infiltrate the cult, and
gives himself away by flashing one of the relics stolen from the Tower of the Serpent.
Savagely beaten, Conan ends up at Doom's feet, spitting accusations (and blood) at him
over the fate of his people. (JEJ gets a classic moment here: as Doom listens to Conan,
his expression changes not to one of guilt or shame, but rather dawning enlightenment.
Ohhhh, that's who you are!) Doom's response to Conan's transgressions against
himself (and more on that subject later) is to have him nailed to the Tree of Woe, where
he can think about what he's done - and, presumably, die. Valeria and Subotai have other
ideas, however, and when Conan has recovered from his injuries, the three of them break
into Doom's stronghold (one of the film's truly great sequences), and successfully
re-capture Osric's daughter. It is during their escape that Valeria is fatally injured
(Doom turns a venomous snake into an arrow), and soon afterwards, Doom himself comes after
Conan, who must save the princess from meeting the same fate as Valeria. After this, Doom
sends his men to finish off the barbarian and his companion, leading to a climactic
set-piece that is simply astonishing, as Conan and Subotai ("Two stood against
many," Conan prays to Crom) must do battle against overwhelming odds. This scene is
suspenseful, exciting, wonderfully choreographed and horrendously bloody. (It also
features our final, brief glimpse of Valeria, as she fulfills her oath.) Conan is left
standing at the end, but only just. We cannot wonder that Doom is somewhat surprised to
see him when, with the help of the repentant princess, Conan confronts the cult leader
once more as he addresses his followers. This scene, as much as any other, encapsulates
the film's main theme, as Doom tries to reason his way out of the situation, calling Conan
"my son. For who is your father if not I?" he asks, arguing that it is hatred of
him, the desire for revenge, that has shaped Conan's life and made him what he is.
Unfortunately for Doom, Conan - like the film itself - has little patience with
philosophical debate. Although for one brief moment it seems as if Doom's powers will
control Conan as they did his mother, the sword is soon in the barbarian's hand; and we
discover, in graphic fashion, that Doom was wrong: steel is stronger than flesh....
Perhaps the thing that stands out most about Conan
The Barbarian, when seen from this distance, is that it is not a film for
children. It is full of brutal violence, copious bloodshed, gratuitous nudity, and sex
scenes, including an orgy. (Not a very convincing orgy, but it's there.) In contrast, most
of the imitations that followed it opted for a more "family" approach, with
broad humour and bloodless fights abounding. (The gratuitous boob shot hung around for
quite a while longer, however.) In keeping with this shift in focus, the
"sorcery" part of the designation began to predominate over the
"sword", with special effects (a great many of them extremely lame) becoming
fore-grounded. In contrast, Conan strives for a sense of relative realism, with the
magic scenes and special effects kept strictly to the margins. No doubt this was a
conscious choice, but there is also a feeling that John Milius was not as comfortable with
these scenes as he was with those of violence. (In fact, you get the impression that
Milius' philosophy is remarkably close to Conan's own: when you've got a sword in your
hand, why bother with that namby-pamby magic stuff?) A woman transforms during sex, first
into a wolf-demon, then into a fireball; we never know why. A giant python glides towards
Conan: he kills it, bloodily, before it can do anything. Thulsa Doom turns himself into a
snake - how? Why? The arbitrary nature of these scenes does not detract too much from the
film as a whole, but they do seem out of place in a production that otherwise projects a
thorough sense of purpose. The only other place where this wavers somewhat is with the
sketchy depiction of Conan's childhood. Once captured by Thulsa Doom and his men, the boy
is chained to some huge (grinding?) wheel; and there, we are left to assume, he spends the
next ten or fifteen years of his life - a fairly pointless (and profitless) way for slave
traders to run their business, I would have thought. (Another thing we're left to assume
is that, offscreen, the young Conan gets to push that darn wheel clockwise every now and
then: as an adult, he's not just buffed, but nice and symmetrical.) After becoming a
champion fighter, and finishing his training, Conan is given his freedom by his owners (we
never do learn why), and sets out on his quest to find his parents' killers. From there
the film really gets down to business. As Conan enjoys his first taste of freedom, our
narrator worries in voiceover that perhaps, like an animal, he has been kept in captivity
too long. The screenplay follows this with some entertaining vignettes of Conan's
"re-adjustment", as he marvels at "civilisation", drunkenly punches
out a camel (Mel Brooks shoulda sued), and avidly wolfs down meat on a stick that he
bought at a market, an act which horrifies his more worldly-wise companion, Subotai. Once
Conan gets his first clue to the identity of his parents' killers, however, the film
sobers, and produces a string of truly memorable action set-pieces. Also memorable - more
than memorable, remarkable - is the film's production design. Meticulously
rendered, exquisitely detailed, the look of this film is a pleasure from beginning to end.
And there is one more thing about Conan The Barbarian that demands attention, and
that is the score by Basil Poledouris. You may not notice it at the time, but a
considerable portion of this film's running time is taken up with people walking, running
or riding across the desert. That these scenes, far from being dull, seem exciting,
imperative, is due to their being backed by Poledouris' most famous work, a sweeping,
vaguely Wagnerian mixture of brass and woodwind, drums and chimes, interspersed with
soaring choral interludes. With this music thundering out of your speakers, a guy doing
nothing more than wandering across a patch of dirt can suddenly seem immeasurably heroic.
Hell, listen to this music often enough, and you might feel like taking on a psychotic
cult leader or two yourself....
Footnote: If this
piece seems overly sympathetic to Thulsa Doom, well, there's a reason. Time to come clean:
it's not just JEJ's dominant performance that won me over, but the specifics of his cult.
You see, I like snakes. In fact, I love them. (Like Henry Fonda in The Lady Eve:
"Snakes are my life!") Of all the bloody scenes in this film, it is Conan's
gruesome butchering of Doom's pet python that bothers me the most. John Milius may be
contemptuous of Doom's followers, but I understand. I mean, c'mon! - this is a guy
who not only surrounds himself with snakes, he can turn himself into one! And
he has his very own "Mountain Of Power"! Man, I am so-oo-oo there....
My highlight from this film isn't any of the
obvious ones. It's Doom's outraged speech to Conan when the barbarian makes his abortive
attempt to infiltrate the cult. Pacing up and down, Doom says bitterly, "You broke
into my house - stole my property - murdered my servants - and my pets. And that
is what grieves me the most: you killed my snake!!" Amen, bro'! Amen!
|
Director:
John Milius