I recently stumbled
upon some reviews I did back in college for the La Salle Collegian. In the
interest of condensing all of my reviews on this site, I've decided to upload
them sporadically throughout the next few weeks. I've chosen not to update
them, mostly because I like the concept of reviews as time capsules for how we
feel about movies at the time we first see them.
Below is a review
of In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale, which I originally
reviewed in January of 2008. At the time, my friends and I anticipated the terrible
films Uwe Boll “adapted” from video games, but in retrospect this was the peak
of his career for us.
In the six years since
In the Name of the King was released, Boll
has worked at a furious clip, direction 20 films and producing even more
according to IMDb. Unfortunately, his burgeoning near-competence behind
the camera has led to films that, while still pretty damn bad, just aren’t as
fun.
 |
| See the film for this scene alone. |
This review demands a
prologue. Not because its subject, In the Name of the King: A Dungeon
Siege Tale, is of any great weight or depth; in reality the film is nothing
more than a very poor Lord of the Rings rip-off. No, this
review deserves a prologue because of the man, nay, the legend-in-the-making,
behind its splendor: Uwe Boll.
Here’s an abbreviated
biography for you. Boll bought up the film rights to a bunch of lower-end
videogames a few years back, and he’s gone through them one by one, making some
of the most god-awful films of the last decade. So far he’s “directed” five of
these properties—House of the Dead, Alone in the Dark, BloodRayne, In
the Name of the King and a straight-to-video BloodRayne sequel—but
a quick look at his Internet Movie Database page shows that there is far more
to come (including four more this year alone).
Each of these films has
bombed terribly, both critically and commercially, and rightfully so.
Everything, from the scripts to the acting to the scores, hell even the
blocking, has been laughable. And yet somehow, through the magic of some sort
of tax loophole in Germany, he’s kept procuring bigger and bigger budgets.
Even more amazing than
that, Boll has managed to get a whole slew of name actors to appear in his
dreck, including Christian Slater, Stephen Dorff, Michael Madsen, Michelle
Rodriguez and Sir Ben Kingsley, an Oscar winner. Under his inept direction,
these performers have given the worst performances of their careers (I can only
assume the paychecks were well worth it).
All the while, Boll has
garnered a serious reputation as the worst filmmaker alive. Drawing unfavorable
comparisons to Ed Wood, he’s elicited the scorn of the gaming community and
pretty much become a punchline. At one point he even challenged a few of his
more fervent critics to boxing matches (he blindsided all of them, as they had
no idea he was an amateur boxer).
I consider myself a
serious cinephile, and so I know I should despise Boll because he’s amassing
money and talent that could be far better used elsewhere (give the guy credit,
he’s a decent producer). However, against the odds, my friends and I have
become fervent fans of the man we affectionately call Uwe. He may make terrible
films, but he’s the king of guilty pleasure; his films are hilarious in ways
that Walker, Texas Ranger doesn’t even begin to compare to it.
Take In the Name
of King, for example. The beats of the story are okay: A sorcerer joins
forces with the king’s evil relative to take over the kingdom and kills the son
of an honest farmer in the process. The farmer (who turns out to be more than a
farmer) joins the king’s cause to rescue his kidnapped wife and save the
kingdom. Throw in some epic battle scenes, a few comic side kicks and some
family dynamics and you got yourself a movie. Sounds clichéd but not all that
terrible, right?
However, Boll couldn’t
just make himself a lame, but serviceable, movie. No, Boll had to inexplicably
add ninjas, Cirque du Soleil jungle women and a ridiculously cheery score. He
had to switch the color saturation midway through for no apparent reason and
encourage a multitude of nonsensical editing choices. He had to commission a
terrible script with horrible lines like, “Those who you fight, we will help
you fight them” and direct every one of his performers to overact to the hilt.
But you know what? Boll’s decisions to do these things took a film that
could’ve been inane, and made it into an extremely fun experience.
The chief enjoyment in
this film derives from the actors giving life to Doug Taylor’s terrible
screenplay. With Jason Statham, John Rhys-Davies, Burt Reynolds, Matthew
Lillard, Ron Pearlman, Brian J. White, Leelee Sobieski, Claire Forlani and Ray
Liotta, the cast sounds solid. Some of them defy the odds, and manage to be
just that: Statham (as the farmer called Farmer), Rhys-Davies (as the king’s
right-hand mage) and White (as the king’s right-hand commander) all turn in
competent work, and manage to not embarrass themselves.
However, everyone else
is pretty damn terrible and, thus, enjoyable. Reynolds, who looks totally out
of place in the setting and kingly garb, is an utter treat as King Konreid. At
one point, upon hearing some mumbo-jumbo from Rhys-Davies, Reynolds hilariously
responds with, “What the hell does that mean?” Might as well be a sly statement
on half the stuff that happens in the film. Furthermore, Reynolds has what is
potentially the funniest deathbed scene in memory, during which he talks about
seaweed being good for crops and all sorts of crazy nonsense. It’s truly a
sight to behold.
As the evil mage
Gallian, Liotta is just as bad. To his credit, he brings intensity to the role,
but his scenery chewing and reaction shots are pricelessly bad. The conviction
he gives to lines like, “When I am king we won’t have a word for madness. We’ll
just call it power,” makes them even loonier.
Lillard plays the
conniving Duke Fallow and is also a “standout.” Playing most of his scenes like
a drunk, he delivers a ridiculous portrayal that, in fairness, is intentionally
meant to cull laughter. His character’s pointlessness (Gallian doesn’t actually
need him), which I’m pretty sure is unintentional, does add to the proceedings.
To be fair,
this is Boll’s best movie to date, and he could be well on his way to making a
mediocre movie, and then, fingers-crossed, a competent one. But for now, I’m
happy that he’s churning out the total camp-goodness. D
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