jürgen fauth’s muckworld

Robert Zemeckis’ high-tech “performance capture” adaptation of the Old English poem turns actors–Ray Winstone, Anthony Hopkins, Robin Wright Penn, John Malkovich, Angelina Jolie–into rubbery action figures. Only Crispin Glover, covered in a disgusting, festering texture, manages to infuse some sort of twisted soul into his Grendel. I saw this in 3-D, which is sorta groovy if you’ve taken some preventive aspirin, but it also further increases the sense of artificiality. The action sequences have all the excitement of a video game cut scene.

Beowulf is only one of a slew of recent movies that wouldn’t have been possible without The Lord of the Rings, and Zemeckis lifts dozens of shots directly from Peter Jackson. Of course, Tolkien in turn would be unthinkable without the Anglo-Saxon poem — and so we come full circle.

Long ago, in the Age of Heroes, I wrote an essay about “hyperfiction” that used the cheap carnival effects of early 3-D movies as metaphor for the teething troubles of a new form. I was tickled to see that even at this late stage, 3-D still means “Poles in Your Face,” along with all manners of swords, naked torsos, dripping saliva, and flaming arrows. It’s true that Neil Gaiman’s script manages to put a somewhat interesting spin on the original epic, but first and foremost, Beowulf is self-satisfied spectacle. I’d rather play God of War. Opens Friday.

Beowulf. Robert Zemeckis, 2007. **

• 300
• Beowulf and Grendel
• Beowulf at Rotten Tomatoes
• Wikipedia
• The trailer:

“It’s 1183 and we’re barbarians!” proclaims Eleanor of Aquitaine (Katharine Hepburn), and she’s got a point. The infighting between aging Henry II (Peter O’Toole), his jailed queen, and jealous sons vying for the crown (Anthony Hopkins, John Castle, Nigel Terry) is some of the ugliest — and most twisted — I’ve ever seen.

Based on a play by James Goldman, the dialogue reaches levels of viciousness usually reserved for Edward Albee, with many more quotable lines than you can digest on first viewing and acting that should never have lost an Oscar to Oliver! or Charly. Like The Ice Harvest, this movie belongs on our list of Top Ten Christmas Movies for Cynics. With Timothy Dalton as King Philip of France.

The Lion in Winter. Anthony Harvey, 1968. ****

You gotta pay attention to coincidences, so here are three recent moments that put me in proximity to celebrity: during a pee break at the screening of The Queen yesterday, I bumped into everybody’s favorite pig farmer James Cromwell, who plays Prince Philip in the movie. His handler/girlfriend/pr person asked me where the press conference was going to be, so I guess it wasn’t much of a sighting, but it was pleasantly disorienting to run into James on the way to the John. He was wearing a beanie hat, perhaps to hide the scars from the electro shock treatment he had to undergo as George on Six Feet Under.

This morning, I walked out of Paprika (more on that later) just in time to run into Cindy Sheehan on Sixth Avenue. She saw me recognizing her, we smiled at each other and mouthed hello, and kept on going. It wasn’t much, but it felt warm and genuine and made me like her even more than I already did. You know those magnets that say “Freedom isn’t free?” Cindy Sheehan is one of the few true contemporary American heroes.

And finally, Entertainment Weekly mentioned me in the same sentence with Anthony Hopkins and Dan Aykroyd. Another lifetime ambition checked off!

[tags]celebrity, jurgen, james cromwell, nixon, ultrachrist, cindy sheehan, anthony hopkins, dan aykroyd, nyc, nyff[/tags]