October 12, 2011
Unspeakably dire and a shocking waste of some very talented actors. My fourteen year old daughter loved it, principally because of the large amounts of screen-time showcasing the personable young Logan Lerman, but any grown-up not devoted to the diminutive heart-throb is surely going to find it a mere slap-bang-wallop sequence of special effects and slo-mo sword-fights which, unsustained by a plausible plot, any sense of relationship between the characters, or a script featuring any depth, coherence, or amusement, becomes yawnsome very quickly.
The director was Paul W. Anderson (Resident Evil), not a chap known for the wit or sensitivity of his work, and the pitch seems to have been Three Musketeers meets Pirates of the Caribbean. Essentially they have taken the (wonderful) 1973 movie by Richard Lester and surgically removed from it the crucial relationships (D’Artagnan and Constance, Queen Anne and Buckingham, D’Artagnan and Milady) and replaced them with some frightful hokum about stealing Leonardo da Vinci’s plans for an airship. Thus they were able to introduce hours of doubtless expensive CGI special effects concerned with large galleons chasing about the sky and blowing one another up, entirely unconnected with the plot about the stolen diamonds and the Queen’s honour.
Matthew McFadyen (Athos), Luke Evans (Aramis) and Ray Stevenson (Porthos), all of whom towered over D’Artagnan, did the best they could with very poor material, but really this is a remake that should never have been made. How could McFadyen hope to compete with Oliver Reed as brooding, vengeful, tormented Athos? Similar comparisons are all in favour of the earlier film; Simon Ward’s cold restraint as Buckingham as opposed to Orlando Bloom’s moustache-twirling villain (a new career low for Bloom, and that’s saying something), lovely Juno Temple’s gentle, good-humoured Queen Anne against the tragic, haunted beauty of Geraldine Chaplin, Christoph Waltz’s vain and snooty Richelieu against Charlton Heston’s reptilian and terrifying version. Gabrielle Wild’s pretty but vacant Constance would be completely overshadowed by the comic genius of Raquel Welch’s clumsy beauty; and worst of all was James Corden, hamming away for dear life as the comic servant Planchet, a part utterly owned by the late (and on this occasion, great) Roy Kinnear. Only Milla Jovovich puts up a serious challenge to the murderous beauty of Faye Dunaway as villainess Milady de Winter, and Mads Mikkelsen (the baddy in Casino Royale) impresses as evil henchman Rochefort (Christopher Lee in the earlier movie – Jesus, what a cast!).
This movie is lesser, shallower, duller in every way except for loud explosions. It’s not funny, it’s not moving, and ultimately it isn’t even all that exciting. The 3Dness is a gimmick that fails to extract this expensive mess from the Don’t Bother bucket. Do yourself a favour, get a copy of the 1973 film and a big carton of pop-corn and have a movie night in.
The director was Paul W. Anderson (Resident Evil), not a chap known for the wit or sensitivity of his work, and the pitch seems to have been Three Musketeers meets Pirates of the Caribbean. Essentially they have taken the (wonderful) 1973 movie by Richard Lester and surgically removed from it the crucial relationships (D’Artagnan and Constance, Queen Anne and Buckingham, D’Artagnan and Milady) and replaced them with some frightful hokum about stealing Leonardo da Vinci’s plans for an airship. Thus they were able to introduce hours of doubtless expensive CGI special effects concerned with large galleons chasing about the sky and blowing one another up, entirely unconnected with the plot about the stolen diamonds and the Queen’s honour.
Matthew McFadyen (Athos), Luke Evans (Aramis) and Ray Stevenson (Porthos), all of whom towered over D’Artagnan, did the best they could with very poor material, but really this is a remake that should never have been made. How could McFadyen hope to compete with Oliver Reed as brooding, vengeful, tormented Athos? Similar comparisons are all in favour of the earlier film; Simon Ward’s cold restraint as Buckingham as opposed to Orlando Bloom’s moustache-twirling villain (a new career low for Bloom, and that’s saying something), lovely Juno Temple’s gentle, good-humoured Queen Anne against the tragic, haunted beauty of Geraldine Chaplin, Christoph Waltz’s vain and snooty Richelieu against Charlton Heston’s reptilian and terrifying version. Gabrielle Wild’s pretty but vacant Constance would be completely overshadowed by the comic genius of Raquel Welch’s clumsy beauty; and worst of all was James Corden, hamming away for dear life as the comic servant Planchet, a part utterly owned by the late (and on this occasion, great) Roy Kinnear. Only Milla Jovovich puts up a serious challenge to the murderous beauty of Faye Dunaway as villainess Milady de Winter, and Mads Mikkelsen (the baddy in Casino Royale) impresses as evil henchman Rochefort (Christopher Lee in the earlier movie – Jesus, what a cast!).
This movie is lesser, shallower, duller in every way except for loud explosions. It’s not funny, it’s not moving, and ultimately it isn’t even all that exciting. The 3Dness is a gimmick that fails to extract this expensive mess from the Don’t Bother bucket. Do yourself a favour, get a copy of the 1973 film and a big carton of pop-corn and have a movie night in.