TheCynicReels
Joined Jul 2007
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TheCynicReels's rating
There are two possible approaches to a series like King & Conqueror. The first is to surrender to the spectacle: the clang of swords, the shimmer of chainmail, the restless shuffle of thrones. Taken on these terms, the production does its work capably. Norton and Coster-Waldau lend weight to their roles, the set design evokes the damp earth of England, and the score strives toward grandeur. In that sense, it is watchable and occasionally stirring.
The second approach is to ask whether the series is, in fact, what it claims to be-a historical drama. And here, things falter. One need not be a specialist in eleventh-century England to notice that certain creative choices are less about the past than about present fashions. The high nobility of the Anglo-Saxons were a specific, traceable people, their lineage tied to the North Sea world, their halls and laws distinctly of their time. The series, however, prefers a broader and more "inclusive" palette. This may satisfy some contemporary expectations, but it does little to illuminate what that world actually was.
The result is less historical drama than historical allegory: the year 1066 rewritten as if it were 2025. This would be forgivable if the real story lacked power. But it does not. Treachery, invasion, and a king struck down on the field of Hastings provide all the drama one could ask for. To overlay this with modern sensibilities is, in a way, to patronize the audience-assuming they cannot be gripped by history as it actually occurred.
By all means, enjoy King & Conqueror as an evening's diversion. Just do not mistake it for history. Those who know the past will recognize the liberties taken; those who do not may come away thinking that the BBC has faithfully shown them 1066. It has not.
The second approach is to ask whether the series is, in fact, what it claims to be-a historical drama. And here, things falter. One need not be a specialist in eleventh-century England to notice that certain creative choices are less about the past than about present fashions. The high nobility of the Anglo-Saxons were a specific, traceable people, their lineage tied to the North Sea world, their halls and laws distinctly of their time. The series, however, prefers a broader and more "inclusive" palette. This may satisfy some contemporary expectations, but it does little to illuminate what that world actually was.
The result is less historical drama than historical allegory: the year 1066 rewritten as if it were 2025. This would be forgivable if the real story lacked power. But it does not. Treachery, invasion, and a king struck down on the field of Hastings provide all the drama one could ask for. To overlay this with modern sensibilities is, in a way, to patronize the audience-assuming they cannot be gripped by history as it actually occurred.
By all means, enjoy King & Conqueror as an evening's diversion. Just do not mistake it for history. Those who know the past will recognize the liberties taken; those who do not may come away thinking that the BBC has faithfully shown them 1066. It has not.
Weapons begins with the promise of a taut psychological thriller, offering just enough atmosphere to make you lean forward in your seat. There is a fine early creepiness-those little shivers born of suggestion rather than spectacle. But like so many Hollywood thrillers, it mistakes the mere appearance of menace for its actual substance.
By the midpoint, the script has already begun to feed on itself, coughing up "mysteries" it has no intention of solving. Plot holes appear like potholes on a neglected road-large enough to break your narrative suspension. The jump scares, while occasionally competent, are used as a crutch for tension rather than an escalation of it. One feels, by the fourth or fifth orchestral sting, that the film is frantically waving its arms and shouting "Boo!" in lieu of storytelling.
The true crime, however, lies in the villain. Here is a figure who could have anchored the entire production-malevolent, intriguing, a mirror for our own fears-but instead we get a sketch where a portrait was needed. Motivation is hinted at, never illuminated. Complexity is suggested, then abandoned.
By the end, we are left with neither catharsis nor clarity, merely the limp aftertaste of a premise squandered. In Weapons, the early promise of menace dissolves into the banality of unanswered questions. It is the cinematic equivalent of a loaded gun never fired-dangerous-looking, but ultimately inert.
By the midpoint, the script has already begun to feed on itself, coughing up "mysteries" it has no intention of solving. Plot holes appear like potholes on a neglected road-large enough to break your narrative suspension. The jump scares, while occasionally competent, are used as a crutch for tension rather than an escalation of it. One feels, by the fourth or fifth orchestral sting, that the film is frantically waving its arms and shouting "Boo!" in lieu of storytelling.
The true crime, however, lies in the villain. Here is a figure who could have anchored the entire production-malevolent, intriguing, a mirror for our own fears-but instead we get a sketch where a portrait was needed. Motivation is hinted at, never illuminated. Complexity is suggested, then abandoned.
By the end, we are left with neither catharsis nor clarity, merely the limp aftertaste of a premise squandered. In Weapons, the early promise of menace dissolves into the banality of unanswered questions. It is the cinematic equivalent of a loaded gun never fired-dangerous-looking, but ultimately inert.