In Ridley Scott's "Gladiator," the Academy Award winner for Best Picture in 2000, there's a scene in which a sweaty-haired Russell Crowe, standing over the blood and bodies of his fallen opponents, violently throws his sword into the crowd and -- with a certain virility only Australians can achieve -- roars, "Are you not entertained? Is that not why you are here?"
The arena crowd at hand, of course, neglects to respond to the question. Instead, they opt to wave ragged banners, shake their arms like Beatles groupies and repeat "Spaniard! Spaniard!" over and over again as though the "general-turned-slave" was Juan Peron on the balcony of the Casa Rosada. But as moviegoers clutching our popcorn buckets and sucking down four-dollar Sierra Mists, we want to answer Crowe. The question, it seems, is directed toward us.
"Well, yeah, dude. That's exactly why I came -- to see some sweet computer-generated panoramas, some exotically beautiful women with thickly applied eye shadow, some blood-stained swords and run-though necks and a soulful soundtrack from (or lifted from) James Horner and Enya. Oh yeah, and give us something to float around in the air while you're at it -- something like kicked-up dust or lazy-looking snowflakes or black and twirling rose petals -- just to make the imagery that much more pretty and epic and important. That'll be worth my money."
In all sincerity, though, there really must be something to the formula. After "Gladiator" won best picture, the swords-and-sandals genre seemed to explode. The outpouring of epic (and epically mediocre) films -- from the flat and wooden "Troy" and the cold and boring "King Arthur" to the harrowingly uneven "Alexander" -- has marked a resurgence of interest in the historical epic that has not been seen since the '50s and '60s.
That brings us to "Kingdom of Heaven," which, as the newest film from self-proclaimed "world creator" Ridley Scott and the spiritual successor to "Gladiator," seems to struggle against what it perceives to be the potential criticisms of its detractors.
Its hero, the film cautiously maintains, possesses neither the inflated and distancing arrogance of Brad Pitt's Achilles nor the over-the-top Freudian psychotrauma of Colin Farrell's Alexander. Rather, as played by Orlando Bloom, he is an inoffensive, humble and modest blacksmith, whose underlying melancholy is established early on with lovelorn gazes at an off-camera horizon. In fact, he journeys to Jerusalem simply to atone for both his own sins and the sins of his wife who, as a Christian, damned herself to hell by committing suicide.
A major problem -- and I mention it first because it is the wellspring to the film's river of problems -- is that Bloom's character, the bastard son of a well-known Crusades warrior (Liam Neeson), is too weak and undefined to carry either the film or our sympathies. The reason for this, beyond Bloom's decidedly limited acting abilities, is that his character's motivation differs from the motivation of the men he eventually comes to lead. He goes to Jerusalem for his own personal reasons, and not out of a desire to force the Muslims out. His motivation can be described as spiritual but not "religious" in a denominational sense.
As a result, when the film's technically breathtaking third act starts to draw on Homeric archetypes for its principal characters -- with Bloom's Balian becoming Jerusalem's Hector, fighting fruitlessly against the Achilles-figure Saladin (Ghassan Massoud) and the oncoming Muslim forces -- it seems unjustified. Balian doesn't appear to have significantly more religious investment in the Christian side than in the Muslim side, and thus, he seems unqualified for his role as a Christian leader.
Perhaps the answer to this problem lies in the film's intended message. William Monahan's script is noticeably cautious and even-handed in depicting the conflicting interests of the Muslims and the Christians, always steering away from taking a side. With the Knights Templar serving as the only real villains, the film seems to acknowledge the justifications implemented by both sides in the battle for Jerusalem, an issue still marked by unending conflict as a relevant message indicates just before the closing credits.
In this sense, maybe it was logical for the film's hero to be somewhat impartial, unbiased and understanding of both sides, like the film itself. Yet while this makes Bloom's character likeable, it does not necessarily make him -- or the film -- compelling. His virtues and his motivations hardly seem consistent with his role as a military leader in a large-scale holy war.
So should you see it? I'm reminded of one of those balance scales that people sometimes replicate with their hands when they're deciding between the South Beach Diet and Food Court fro-yo. On the one hand, the film is a technically accomplished piece of work, sporting the most stunning war sequences since "The Return of the King." You might go just to witness a lush recreation of an important period in history, or you might even want to support Orlando Bloom's boycott of starring in movies that aren't in the action-adventure genre. But on the other hand, you've got, you know, a flawed film.
In the earlier food-related example, I would go for the fro-yo in a second. However, as for "Kingdom of Heaven," you're on your own.
