Thoughtful, Meditative, Nazi-Killing, Viking-Headbanging Movie Night
Picked up at the charity sale of review copies at work:
Operation Valkyrie: It’s the 2004 German made-for-TV version. Amazon reviewers liked it for its greater depth. I’m pretty happy with the prospect of a Tom Cruise-free presentation and action in the original Kraut. The story of course is the July 20, 1944 von Staufenberg plot to kill Hitler by disillusioned Wehrmacht officers. Inspirational tale of bravery that goes badly wrong, though cynics might say they only did it because they were tired of Old Toothbrush ‘Stache screwing up the Über Alles project. Like Cruise’s Valkyrie (which actually was pretty good, straightforward, transcending its regrettable Cruiseness), this sounds like a poignant ode to human failure and tragic triumph: Upon recognizing what a monstrosity one has become part of, to strive to correct the fatal error, failing miserably, except to the extent that some redemption is achieved in history’s rearview.
Severed Ways, The Norse Discovery of America. It was a wild card pick (dovetailing somewhat with the Norse mythological thematic element of Operation Valkyrie), “A Throbbing Black-Metal Soundtrack” and “Gritty Realism” being promising jacket reviews for a flick about Viking clashes of Skraelings and encounters with Irish monks in the primordial forests of North America. Sounds like a simple beer-soaked night of headbanging, skull-cleaving B-flick fun. So imagine my surprise at this review:
The movie is an ode to the mythologized Viking spirit which has been seized on by some metalheads as an emblem for their music, but even with this seemingly blunt premise, the film has a surprisingly meditative feel. Although some of the hand-held effects are trying, overall the cinematography is sweeping, evocative and expressive — the scenes of nature and the endless woods of the Eastern seaboard are continually arresting, and the illusion of these two men being stranded in the 11th Century wilderness is convincing. There is very little dialogue (and all of it is dubbed into Nordic dialect) with most of the story being told visually, with surprising effectiveness. Some sequences seem gratuitous — most notably Tony Stone’s character seen relieving himself in the woods, with Stone actually defecating onscreen; there is also a scene in which a church is burned and the smoldering cross is felled by an axe. It’s heavyhanded, but ultimately it fits into the vision of the script. Here we see the first thoughtless marauding of European men into the interior of North America; they are violent, frightened and destructive, but also resourceful and bold, and in search of a new way of life. A film that could have been loud and loutish is instead thoughtful and evocative, with a soundtrack to match, both eerie and subtle, and hardly the chord-crunching metalfest you might imagine.
Viewers (and potential viewers) will be split on this film… I imagine most people will avoid it because of what they assume it will be like, but it is not the crude Conan The Barbarian film they foresee. To be sure, there are elements of this macho swords-and-sandals mythology at play, but on the whole this is a rather effective, believable semi-historical drama about man-versus-nature, and the tragedy of man-versus-man. It’s a more mature film than you might imagine, and destined to be a cult favorite for a certain brand of film fans, mainly those creative re-enactment types who value realism and historical narratives.
Howbout that. Sounds like a meditative, thoughtful night of beer-soaked headbanging, skull-cleaving B-flick fun. The following indieWIRE review’s sneer sounds reflexive as much of its criticism of this “Pagan Poetry” has to be considered relatively high praise:
A chest-thumping, head-pounding, axe-wielding tromp through the wilderness, “Severed Ways” is the unexpected, frankly unsolicited cinematic spawn of Werner Herzog and heavy-metal album cover art. But rather than parody, the film is a sincere valentine to leaden dramatics and brute manliness, a paean for a simpler, sillier, hairier historical moment. Director Tony Stone’s stroke of strange genius is to conflate metal culture with its favored pagan iconography, asserting a continuum between unkempt warmongers and sweaty head-bangers. As a Norse duo marooned in the New World, Stone and Fiore Tedesco (irrelevantly named Orn and Volnard) are the Dave Mustaine and James Hetfield of the eleventh century, brooding blonde and brunette archetypes destined to break up, make up and rock hard.
Opening with a long expository scroll about the Vikings’ ill-fated North American adventures, the film proceeds with seven numbered chapters (plus an epilogue) given succinct titles like “Stranded,” “Conquest,” and “Encounters,” backed by amped-up guitars and Goth synth. Scouts Orn and Volnard return to the coastline to find slain corpses and themselves abandoned. To hide from the Skraeling (Native Americans) they journey deep into the woods, set up camp, then accost a pair of monks. Volnard gets curious about God (think of George Harrison circa “My Sweet Lord”) while Orn gets drugged and molested by a horny Skraeling (groupies!), the Norse equivalents of side projects and solo albums. They get jealous, they get lonely, they axe people in the back, and they search for a way back home.
Though sorely lacking in storytelling fundamentals—characterization and narrative momentum would help—“Severed Ways” doesn’t want for integrity. The film is literally painstaking, determined to be and show all in its drive to reprise the savage life. Trees are felled, fires are started, chickens are killed and plucked, and in a first-act money shot, shit gets shat. Stone savors all of this activity, striving for a banal poetry indebted to Herzog’s stunt existentialism, Michael Mann’s expansive color-field brooding, and Terrence Malick’s dreamy textures. These visual pretensions are commendable but lack metaphorical heft, and instead underscore the absurdity of shaggily costumed men stalking the Newfoundland landscape.
I dunno. Shaggily costumed landscape-stalking was de riguer for lots of northern barbarians in the not-too-distant past, and who’s to say heavy metal doesn’t capture the gestalt of guys whose great ambition in life was to be killed in battle so they could drink with the gods for eternity? Or at least until Ragnarok, Gotterdammerung, Twilight of the Gods, when they get to go out and righteously cleave heads again. As for the film’s effort to address the metaphysical question … Do Vikings shit in the woods? … some people might get squeamish, but if you’ve lived rough at any point, you know that just falls under “gritty realism.”*
There was another DVD I was eyeballing, but my buddy Mashberg grabbed it, as he was interested to see the barbarians his people once lived amongst cleaving each other’s heads for a change.
1612: ”After the brutal slaughter of Tsar Boris Godunov and his family, Russia descends into chaos. Guided by faith and mysticism, Andrey, the only witness to the massacre, transforms himself from servant to cavalier and sets off on a quest to save Princess Ksenia, the missing daughter of Godunov. Andrey joins forces with Prince Pozharski, the people’s army leader, and faces down the Polish army in an explosive, blood-soaked battle for Moscow.”
Amazon reviewers seemed to like it, tossing out terms like “spectacular epic.” I’ll get it when Mashie’s done.
* I happen to have a string of exotic, culturally informative and sometimes startling anecdotes on the subject, the result of extended periods spent in regions remote from modern plumbing, but my wife tells me they are not appropriate for print or refined company in general.
Topics: Hollywood
Posted by Jules Crittenden at 9:59 am on Thursday, August 6, 2009
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