“Where’s the beefcake?”
Me, after watching Immortals, a film that is advertised as being “from the producers of 300.” Except 300, for all its flaws, featured some of the best that modern nutrition, gyms, and some steroids could make of the male physique. The plot of 300 could be summed up as “a few very good men fight to the death against the Persians, and day-yum, are they sexy martyrs.”
Theseus, Immortals’s hero, is terribly overdressed. Also, for the most part, Immortals is short on action and gore, which is especially problematic as it’s also fresh out of plot and characterization.
The movie begins by introducing the movie’s McGuffins: the Titans and the Epirus bow. The Titans are contained in a box that is vaguely reminiscent of Hellraiser. Only instead of Pinhead and company, it’s filled with ashy gray men who stand row after row, their teeth clenched around steel rebar. (Note to props department: Next time at least file off the little telltale ridges that make it obviously something that was purchased at the local home improvement store.) Someone then shoots an arrow from the Epirus bow into the box, freeing the Titans, which is a very bad thing, because now they will run amuck, stealing everyone’s left sock and parking in handicapped parking spaces. Or so the voiceover tells us.
Next we meet Theseus (Henry Cavill) and his mother. Theseus–of course–has a tragic backstory. He was conceived in rape and now he and mom–well, mom, mostly–are the town pariahs. When word arrives that King Hyperion (Micky Rourke) and his army are in the neighborhood, most of the town is evacuated, including the goats. Theseus, his mother and a few other undesirables aren’t allowed to leave with the first group. Why? I don’t know. Rape cooties?
Theseus wanders off to play with himself. Hyperion and his army arrive and the rape and slaughter starts. Our hero returns home in time to see Hyperion kill Mom. Oh, noes! He attacks Hyperion’s army, kills a few men, but is then captured.
Regarding Hyperion. Once upon a time, Micky Rourke paid for his sex and drugs by being Hollywood’s go-to-guy for sleazy, sex-addicted pretty boys. Eventually, after years of ending up face first in the gutter, he couldn’t trade on boyish good looks, and he dropped off the radar. Then there was his comeback with the Wrestler. And thus a new shtick was born: when casting needs bloated, whisky-voiced and with a face that still bears the imprint of the sewer drain, they ring up Rourke. He wanders over from his previous movie, no makeup necessary and gets to work. Rourke in Immortals is essentially Whiplash from Iron Man 2, only with a few less tattoos. And a lot more bored with the role.
Anyway, Hyperion sends Theseus off to work in the salt mines, which for some reason, leads to a detour to villa in the desert where Theseus meets Phaedra (Freida Pinto), the virgin seer. (Behold the magical hymen!) He rescues Phaedra before Hyperion can force her to disclose the location of the Epirus bow. Because, of course, Hyperion wants to unleash the Titans.
But first, Phaedra insists that Theseus must go home and bury his mother. (I don’t know why. Maybe Phaedra is also the health inspector.) Theseus agrees and hauls Mom’s corpse down to a twisty-maze-y catacombs where he stumbles on the Epirus bow and fights a guy in a barbed wire helmet that been shaped to resemble a bull’s head. Get it? It’s the minotaur. Ugh. Phaedra decides the magical hymen gig is overrated and let’s Theseus pop her cherry, which pretty much is the extent of her involvement in the plot.
Meanwhile, the gods–Zeus, Athena, Poseidon, Ares, etc.–are arguing over whether they should get involved in this mess. Zeus (Luke Evans) says, “No, we must have faith in the mortals.” (And I say, “Wh-what?”) The other gods grumble but agree because Zeus is the boss of them and he isn’t wearing a helmet that looks like it was stolen from last year’s gay pride parade. Seriously? Two golden shells sitting on either side of Poseidon’s head like Princess Leia’s buns? Seriously?
Anyway, Theseus and friends walk into a trap, a hyena shows up (I’m not kidding) and steals the bow and Hyperion unleashes the Titans.
Immortal’s director–Tarsem Singh–has a fondness for style over substance and it’s clear that the movie is meant to be visually arresting. Uh, only if “visually arresting” is defined as “so dull your optic nerve ceases to function.” I’ve seen other reviewers compare the visuals to Maxfield Parrish, a comparison that frankly, must have Parrish thrashing in his grave. Parrish’s paintings were powerful for their use of light, something that is largely absent in Immortals. The movie’s palette is a mix of gray, dark gray, black, and brown, with occasional splashes of dingy yellow. The fight are astonishingly bloodless, with the exception of one scene where Ares arrives and splits open some heads.
The point of Immortals, I guess, is to play with the mythical tropes and imagery. Hence, the minotaur is just a big man in a mask. Zeus, the big, bad, king of the gods, is downright scrawny. I’m a fan of skinny nerds, but come on, this is Zeus! And then there are the Titans–the teeny wheeny, human-sized Titans. If there really were Titans, they would have shown up on opening night and beaten the director into a bloody pulp in a fit of righteous indignation.
Conclusion? I could film my dog’s latest turd in the changing light of a New Mexican sunset and still end up with a better cinematic effort.
