Critics hated Guy Ritchie’s King Arthur but it will be a cult classic
King Arthur: Legend of the Sword is a widely panned flop that deserved better. Not because it’s a brilliant epic, not because it’ll make you a better person, not even cause it’s some kind of an amazing movie appealing to all tastes. It’s none of the above. What it is, is a simple and efficient, entertaining romp with a kickass soundtrack, set in a variation of the Game of Thrones world where more than one person has a sense of humour. It’s not a lofty ambition, sure, but nearly everything this movie does, it’s great at. In some ways King Arthur is unlike anything we’ve seen on the big screen so far and for this reason alone it deserves a fighting chance.
Guy Ritchie’s latest (as of writing those words) applies the Sherlock Holmes formula to Arthurian legends, stars the Undeclared alumni Charlie Hunnam as the streetwise Arthur and sees Jude Law enjoying the hell out of being the evil usurper Vortigern.
Now, let’s get this out of the way — the main point of dissent for a lot of the movie’s detractors is right there in the title. Saying that Guy Ritchie is playing it loose with its source material is playing it loose even with the definition of “playing it loose”. Legend of the Sword breaks the Arthurian legends into little pieces, mixes it with influences from video games, then reassembles them in a way that serves Ritchie’s vision. What the audience accepted when it came to Sherlock Holmes and U.N.C.L.E., was somehow deemed a disgrace for the story of the legendary King of Britain known worldwide for drawing swords wedged in rocks, entrusting his wife to the honourable knight that bonks her, and getting most of his pals killed on the search for the Holy Grail.
If we accept that there can be leniency in adaptation, though, Ritchie’s vision certainly presents a more interesting version of King Arthur than Sean Connery in shining armour. Ritchie used the legends as an anchor of sorts, to establish the very general rules of this dark fantasy world: powerful magic that is less direct than a fireball, quirky underwater ladies dealing in swords of destiny, and economy that goes to hell the instant a noble king is assassinated and his son gets banished by a cartoonishly evil uncle.
I’m a fan of what Ritchie did with the legend of a boy turned king. The farm boy is instead a streetwise crook raised in a brothel and leading a gang. He’s a scoundrel with a heart of gold, because of course he should be. Since the sun and prosperity always follow the rightful king, it’s only logical that even ousted from his place and raised on the streets he would fill his coffers taxing the neighbourhood, take good care of his people and enforce his own law — it’s in his blood, after all.
A common accusation often drawn against the movie is that Hunnam seems slightly lacking in the charisma department. It might be so, though your mileage may vary on whether it’s a big deal. I suppose he has summoned his natural voice and accent from the old days for the purpose of portraying an English street thug that has royal blood coursing through his veins. It might make sense on paper — it’s yet another thing that drives home the point that even though he’s among commoners he is the Rightful King. Ultimately, the naivety of the handsome British exchange student from his Judd Apatow days feels a bit out of place.
Jude Law, on the other hand, makes the absolute most of the opportunity of being the affably evil mage-king Vortigern. He’s chewing the scenery like it’s nobody’s business and still finds time for moments of finesse. The highlight of his performance is probably the earnest face Law shows for a split second as Vortigern confesses he’s always wanted a boy. The way he juggles displays of extreme and seemingly conflicting emotions is a joy to watch and reminds me of his slightly unnerving performance in AI. I can only hope he gets more chances to explore this side of his craft.
The supporting characters are there, and I have to admit it’s difficult to say more about them. It’s not necessarily a bad thing — no one steals our attention for long and the conflict between Arthur and Vortigern never loses momentum. There seem to be some loose ends, however, in the form of potentially interesting characters that only appear for a scene or two. It’s not a detriment to enjoying King Arthur, but it’s a reminder that the story of its final cut is one of compromise, not of a meticulous plan (initial cut was 3.5 hours long).
The movie is shot with washed-out colours and has no intention of going the glitter-and-glory way of depicting the legend. It’s a signature of sorts for Guy Ritchie, who’s always been more interested in London’s seedy underbelly than the posh upper stratum and found this kind of colour balance more fitting. I wonder if the fact that a huge part of the movie’s target group were Game of Thrones fans, who are used to this kind of cinematography, was a factor in this decision. It might get tiring for some viewers, but it’s yet another thing that sets the bleak tone of this fantasy world, plus it makes it a bit easier to follow what’s going on when Ritchie’s signature jump cuts take center stage.
Legend of the Sword is rich with montages and sudden cuts that take us to different times and places for both narrative and comedic effect. In fact, this notorious element of Ritchie’s style is here in its best form so far. The montage of Arthur growing up is absolutely fantastic. It gives us a lot of information and makes a strong impression with just a few scenes of the protagonist’s life spectacularly synchronised to the pounding soundtrack. It’s pretty long, but very easily readable: after a point, similar frames start to repeat with certain variations, so the audience can process what’s going on in the short time between cuts (e.g. we see a man hitting a prostitute and young Arthur trying to interfere, a few cuts later in an almost exactly-looking frame a now grown-up Arthur successfully puts an end to the situation).
Ritchie’s trademark jump cuts contribute to the fact that, for most of its length, Legend of the Sword feels like a caper movie. They’re, as usual, used to tell a story within a story, to expand the fictitious world of the movie within — on the surface — the confines of a single dialogue. Coupled with lines that sound as if they were lifted from Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, they somewhat harshly subvert the traditional expectations of the world of Arthurian legends. It’s almost as if Londinum was just another age of the London of the Ritchieverse. While gangster dialogues may be yet another affront to the source material, they only added to my enjoyment. It’s not only hilarious at times, it also makes for a very cleanly characterised distinction between various classes of society depicted in the movie. Obviously, a king shouldn’t be talking like a lowlife or a footsoldier. Since the protagonist of this movie journeys from the gutters all the way into the throne room, that clear distinction actually adds to the narrative.
That clarity stretches throughout the entire movie. It’s a story that embraces how simple it is, with the protagonist wearing white, evil in black uniforms, every Chekhov’s gun firing without fault and the unstoppable force of destiny surely moving the protagonist closer to his goal. Which is not to say the film is boring — it’s amazingly fun to watch, but the fun lies in the entertaining experience as a whole, not in being shaken by narrative twists. I admit that it lacks the emotional engagement of, say, John Wick, but I didn’t really need it to enjoy watching events unfold at breakneck pace. When it comes to stories of vengeance, it’s usually the simple set-ups that deliver the strongest payoffs.
Though the colour palette is grey, the narrative is completely unambiguous and I mean it in the best way possible. The aforementioned interpretation that Arthur got rich ruling the neighbourhood out of a brothel because he’s the rightful king? It’s explicitly said by Vortigern when he and Arthur first meet in the movie. The reason for all the bad guys wearing uniforms that were all the rage at Mordor Fashion Week and Jude Law being a colossal twat as king? As Vortigern very effectively demonstrates a while later, he chooses to rule through fear. The fact that masses of people who hate his guts still do his bidding out of fear is intoxicating.
The story being simple benefits the spectacle by not drawing attention away from the audiovisual fun, the puns and Jude Law hamming it up. Furthermore, the simplifications actually being explained so efficiently elevate the film ever so slightly and give it more credibility than most popcorn flicks can muster. Considering how strong the suspension of disbelief should be when watching such a movie in the first place, even a small reason to empathise with its cartoonish villain adds a lot to the enjoyment.
Which is not to say there are no subtleties here. The way Vortigern’s daughter Catia seems to collect birds in cages suggests a deeply problematic relation with her father, which she tries to justify. It’s fitting and believable and it greatly enriches their backstory, while taking up hardly any screentime.
There are, however, two story beats where King Arthur jumps onto the shaky grounds of abstract narrative. And this, I believe, is why King Arthur is 30% rotten on RT.com while the audience score is a generally favourable 69%. Though admirable and actually fun when you think about it, they feel out of place on first viewing and polarise the audience. Since elaborating on them would necessitate at least subtle spoilers, I’ll save it for the end of this post.
King Arthur: Legend of the Sword is a brilliantly edited and constantly fun movie driven by a unique vision of a master entertainer. It’s a perfect film for families or groups of friends to gather around and enjoy. It’s a box office flop that — by all common sense — a lot of people should relish, if given the chance. Its production process as well as its efficiency at dispersing information suggest that it’s essentially a lean movie. Every scene, every sequence, brings value. In the cutting room there must’ve been just one question asked over and over again: is it entertaining?
Goddamn, it bloody is.
It might not have the devoted fanbase of the source material backing it like Dredd but — mark my words — Legend of the Sword will become a cult classic. Just give it a chance, then consider signing the petition for Warner to greenlight a sequel.
We deserve it.
The following few paragraphs contain slight spoilers from the 2nd half of the movie. The story never throws any curveballs but if you’re seriously averse to spoilers, now’s the time to skip to the comments.
At a certain point in the story, a plan is visualised with a sequence of jump cuts. We see events play out as Arthur narrates them, so naturally we assume that what we see is actually happening a few hours later, in typical Guy Ritchie fashion. Without warning, the scene suddenly becomes absurd in a seemingly senseless way. It’s so abrupt and jarring that the viewer’s train of thought is derailed completely. Arthur continues the narration by criticising this plan and, although on screen we still see him in the visualised version of it, he begins describing an alternate one. You see, that scene never actually happened. It was just Ritchie pulling our leg, playing with our assumptions and with the format he himself established. Smile, keep on watching, the rails are back and the suspension of disbelief with it.
Except if it’s not. The movie never stops, never comes completely clean with the audience on what just happened. The joke is, in hindsight, hilarious, and I love when movies do this. Nevertheless, it took me quite a while to process during my first viewing, and during my puzzlement the story kept on going. I mean, even trying to describe it in the previous paragraph took some serious thought.
Now, imagine what that must do to movie critics (especially those who can’t take a joke). If they understand this sequence after a spell, it’s still bound to take them out of the experience for this duration. Critics used to less abstract, more traditional narration, might not get it at all. I mean, Ritchie doesn’t make it any easier — towards the beginning of the film it’s clearly established, that when what we hear doesn’t align with what we see, we are to trust the visual narrative (the Viking story within a story).
There’s two consequences to a situation like this. Matthew Kadish beautifully explained how a movie that breaks suspension of disbelief alienates its viewers. After the very format of a story’s narrative breaks their trust, it’s hard to get it back. The audience might just spend the rest of the movie looking for reasons to dislike it. Let me add to this that it is particularly dangerous for film critics, because some of them can’t simply relax and accept that they don’t understand something in a movie. Most of them can only watch a movie once before they submit a review, and ego might also be a factor. More likely, cognitive dissonance kicks in and their mind subconsciously looks for an explanation that makes what they’re feeling consistent with their self-perception. They spend the rest of the movie searching for a justification to hate it.
And then the other shoe drops.
The second inconsistency in the film’s format comes during a CGI-rich finale that is at least inspired by the video game Dark Souls 3, not only in visuals but also in its vision of destiny at work. In Dark Souls, you see, hardly any boss enemy goes down the first time the player fights it. The same thing happens in King Arthur, though it’s never explained why. I can only assume it’s because Excalibur is a tool of destiny that holds power over time, but it’s never explicit.
Cognitive dissonance has a tell — a disproportionate reaction to its perceived cause. I’m not trying to generalize — there are legitimate reasons to dislike or criticize King Arthur. However, neither the movie’s loose treatment of its source material nor the presence of CGI monsters warranted such as harsh a treatment as in the most extreme reviews. Rather, after being fooled and taken out of the experience, the reviewer was probably focused on all the wrong things, and the final scene sealed the deal.
Spoilers end here, feel free to leave a comment and prove me wrong.
