Directed by: David Mackenzie
Written by: David Mackenzie, Bathsheba Doran, James MacInnes, Mark Bomback, David Harrower
In this latest straight-to-Netflix installment in Hollywood’s love affair with Scottish rebels against the one people Hollywood hates more than Republicans or Nazis—the English—we follow the future “King of Scots” Robert the Bruce (Star Trek and Wonder Woman leading man Chris Pine) as he fights for independence.
Overall, it has a lot going for it, including a great cast and suitably gritty visuals, but the whole thing is kind of let down by the rushed and unengaging story.
Chris Pine plays against type here as the dour and melancholy Brucey, in a role that largely requires him to look mournful and stare just slightly past the camera with those blue, blue eyes of his. I like that he reigned in his charisma and challenged himself with a more brooding, thoughtful role, but I think he was let down a bit by the script that never shows a hint that there’s anything deeper going on inside his head—he just looks Eeyore glum most of the time, and that’s it.
On the other hand, the supporting cast is generally excellent. This is the movie for anyone suffering from Game of Thrones withdrawal. Not only is the tone similar—including everything from the evisceration of supposed good guys to a mud-soaked Battle of the Bastards-esque finale—but it also has a lot of familiar faces.
There’s James Cosmo (Jeor Mormont in GoT) as Robert’s father, Clive Russell (Brynden Tully) as Scottish Lord MacKinnon, and best of all, Stephen Dillane (Stannis) finally claiming his mantle as our true and rightful king, Edward I. However, his son, the Prince of Wales and future Edward II (Billy Howle) is a right turnip, so he’s still not winning any awards in the parenting department.
The camera is restless and dynamic, swooping and twirling around, into and through the scenes, most notably an opening one-take whirlwind as Edward I brings the Scottish lords to heel with a demonstration of his power before the last pocket of resistance, Stirling Castle.
The action is suitably frenetic, particularly in the smaller-scale scenes like an ambush on Robert’s small band of followers or a sneak raid on a castle. Battles don’t stint on the mud and gore, though they do fall into the common pitfall of having the main characters act like board game Hero Units, dispatching hordes of faceless adversaries with one stroke. I don’t claim to be an expert on medieval warfare, but I rather think the point of wearing all that chainmail would be to make it ever so slightly difficult for the other fella to gut you with their sword—just once I’d like to see a medieval movie that tried to show how hard it would actually be to kill an armored opponent with nothing but a big fancy knife.
Still, that’s a minor quibble.
The main trouble with the movie is that the whole spectacle is far too sterile.
Action movies have to be more about yelling and screaming and blood and gore and bashing each other with bits of metal. All that has to mean something, otherwise it’s all just empty spectacle.
Interesting, gripping, edge-of-your-seat drama and action depends on engaging the viewer. And being engaged depends on—excuse me if I get technical here for a second—understanding what the hell is happening on the screen, both physically and emotionally. What are these people trying to do? Why? Does that make sense? Is there a chance of failure? Do I—as the viewer—hope they will succeed or fail (and why)?
Outlaw King is brilliant at showing me What is going on, but completely duff at showing me Why. It charges through plot points like a knight in chainmail, without bothering to slow down and show you the motivations or reasons for any of the action.
We open, as mentioned above, with Robert the Bruce and the other Scottish lords surrendering to Edward I after a failed rebellion, led in part by William Wallace of “Braveheart” fame. Soon after the English execute Mel Gibson and hang up bits of his body around the kingdom, driving the Bruciest of all Roberts to rebel once more.
And I have no idea why.
He informs his family of his decision to fight, and they all agree, including his new wife, the product of an arranged marriage to a powerful English nobleman’s daughter. His wife, Elizabeth de Burgh (Florence Pugh) defiantly declares “I choose you!”
And I have no idea why.
These aren’t minor details, these are the pillars on which the whole movie rests—the A story about Robert’s rebellion, and the B love story between Robbie and his English queen—and the key players’ motivations in both are a complete blank.
With a movie so tightly focused on one man, the titular Outlaw King, especially one so withdrawn and thoughtful, his reasons for fighting and going through all the shit he does are not incidental to the movie, THEY ARE THE BLOODY MOVIE. Without that you’ve just got a bunch of Billy Connolly impersonators going Arrgrrrghgyrrhghwharrr and smashing each over the head with maces.
The problem I think is that the scriptwriters were too focused on hitting all the necessary plot points charting Robert’s fall and rise, not enough on ensuring we actually care about them. It’s just kind of assumed that you’re on board with Rob and the gang and know the English are baddies worth fighting against.
That’s why we blast through the opening, including the decision to go to war, without bothering much with motivations, and why later plot points, like the guerilla war against the English, are done in a scene or two before we move on.
It’s also strangely lacking in tension, as the action tends to be all one thing or all the other—either Robert and Co are getting mercilessly clobbered and slaughtered, or they’re downing the English like pints at the pub. There’s never any hint the former will be less than an utter disaster, nor any challenge to their success in the latter, so again you’re left just kind of watching numbly. Huh. Well, I guess that happened.
And that’s almost painful, because in almost every other respect, this is solid, first-class filmmaking. It’s well shot, well-acted, well-designed, all the other thousand elements that go into making a movie are all fine and good and nice, but it’s just so hard to give a damn about it when the characters are automatons going through the motions and the outcome of any scene is never in any doubt.
Overall, it has a lot going for it, including a great cast and suitably gritty visuals, but the whole thing is kind of let down by the rushed and unengaging story.
Chris Pine plays against type here as the dour and melancholy Brucey, in a role that largely requires him to look mournful and stare just slightly past the camera with those blue, blue eyes of his. I like that he reigned in his charisma and challenged himself with a more brooding, thoughtful role, but I think he was let down a bit by the script that never shows a hint that there’s anything deeper going on inside his head—he just looks Eeyore glum most of the time, and that’s it.
On the other hand, the supporting cast is generally excellent. This is the movie for anyone suffering from Game of Thrones withdrawal. Not only is the tone similar—including everything from the evisceration of supposed good guys to a mud-soaked Battle of the Bastards-esque finale—but it also has a lot of familiar faces.
There’s James Cosmo (Jeor Mormont in GoT) as Robert’s father, Clive Russell (Brynden Tully) as Scottish Lord MacKinnon, and best of all, Stephen Dillane (Stannis) finally claiming his mantle as our true and rightful king, Edward I. However, his son, the Prince of Wales and future Edward II (Billy Howle) is a right turnip, so he’s still not winning any awards in the parenting department.
The camera is restless and dynamic, swooping and twirling around, into and through the scenes, most notably an opening one-take whirlwind as Edward I brings the Scottish lords to heel with a demonstration of his power before the last pocket of resistance, Stirling Castle.
The action is suitably frenetic, particularly in the smaller-scale scenes like an ambush on Robert’s small band of followers or a sneak raid on a castle. Battles don’t stint on the mud and gore, though they do fall into the common pitfall of having the main characters act like board game Hero Units, dispatching hordes of faceless adversaries with one stroke. I don’t claim to be an expert on medieval warfare, but I rather think the point of wearing all that chainmail would be to make it ever so slightly difficult for the other fella to gut you with their sword—just once I’d like to see a medieval movie that tried to show how hard it would actually be to kill an armored opponent with nothing but a big fancy knife.
Still, that’s a minor quibble.
The main trouble with the movie is that the whole spectacle is far too sterile.
Action movies have to be more about yelling and screaming and blood and gore and bashing each other with bits of metal. All that has to mean something, otherwise it’s all just empty spectacle.
Interesting, gripping, edge-of-your-seat drama and action depends on engaging the viewer. And being engaged depends on—excuse me if I get technical here for a second—understanding what the hell is happening on the screen, both physically and emotionally. What are these people trying to do? Why? Does that make sense? Is there a chance of failure? Do I—as the viewer—hope they will succeed or fail (and why)?
Outlaw King is brilliant at showing me What is going on, but completely duff at showing me Why. It charges through plot points like a knight in chainmail, without bothering to slow down and show you the motivations or reasons for any of the action.
We open, as mentioned above, with Robert the Bruce and the other Scottish lords surrendering to Edward I after a failed rebellion, led in part by William Wallace of “Braveheart” fame. Soon after the English execute Mel Gibson and hang up bits of his body around the kingdom, driving the Bruciest of all Roberts to rebel once more.
And I have no idea why.
He informs his family of his decision to fight, and they all agree, including his new wife, the product of an arranged marriage to a powerful English nobleman’s daughter. His wife, Elizabeth de Burgh (Florence Pugh) defiantly declares “I choose you!”
And I have no idea why.
These aren’t minor details, these are the pillars on which the whole movie rests—the A story about Robert’s rebellion, and the B love story between Robbie and his English queen—and the key players’ motivations in both are a complete blank.
With a movie so tightly focused on one man, the titular Outlaw King, especially one so withdrawn and thoughtful, his reasons for fighting and going through all the shit he does are not incidental to the movie, THEY ARE THE BLOODY MOVIE. Without that you’ve just got a bunch of Billy Connolly impersonators going Arrgrrrghgyrrhghwharrr and smashing each over the head with maces.
The problem I think is that the scriptwriters were too focused on hitting all the necessary plot points charting Robert’s fall and rise, not enough on ensuring we actually care about them. It’s just kind of assumed that you’re on board with Rob and the gang and know the English are baddies worth fighting against.
That’s why we blast through the opening, including the decision to go to war, without bothering much with motivations, and why later plot points, like the guerilla war against the English, are done in a scene or two before we move on.
It’s also strangely lacking in tension, as the action tends to be all one thing or all the other—either Robert and Co are getting mercilessly clobbered and slaughtered, or they’re downing the English like pints at the pub. There’s never any hint the former will be less than an utter disaster, nor any challenge to their success in the latter, so again you’re left just kind of watching numbly. Huh. Well, I guess that happened.
And that’s almost painful, because in almost every other respect, this is solid, first-class filmmaking. It’s well shot, well-acted, well-designed, all the other thousand elements that go into making a movie are all fine and good and nice, but it’s just so hard to give a damn about it when the characters are automatons going through the motions and the outcome of any scene is never in any doubt.
Posted this review over on r/movies on Reddit, and some humorless tit came up with the weakest, laziest, most bizarre defense of the movie imaginable:
ReplyDeleteMe: Like, why is Chris the Bruce rebelling?
Humorless tit: The opening title card explains that the King of England occupies Scotland with brutality and force.
Me: Why does his English noblewoman wife support him?
HT: He's her husband.
A title card? That's his idea of establishing motivation? Ah great, no need to actually show any of that brutality and force. We can all just read the memo. Very engaging. Powerful and moving. A title card. Jesus.
"He's her husband"? That's his idea of believable, sympathetic characterization? Because there's never been any conflict between family members ever in the history of cinema, right? What a pathetic, brainless ... no, just fuck off.
I actually kind of liked it despite rather flat storytelling, but if it's defended by mindless arsetrumpets like this, then I've probably been far too kind.