Sing, O goddess, the unutterable stinkiness of Troy’s
script, son of Benioff, that brought countless ills upon the
cinema-going public. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down
to George Street, and many an actor did it yield a prey to
reviewers and merciless critics. But enough of this Iliad-pillaging. Troy hardly bothers with
it, so why should Cherwell? Naturally, such an attitude from
Hollywood is to be expected; this is after all a
‘re-imagining’ that encompasses the entire Trojan War,
not an adaptation of Homer’s rather more focused tale; it
was inevitable that liberties would be taken. A great deal of the
story has been changed – ten years become three weeks,
heroes die different deaths, the all-powerful gods are now mere
concepts, but still, remember that this is a movie, and even the
most radical of alterations can often be accepted if they make
cinematic sense. No, this multitude of adjustments to a tale
established for nearly three thousand years isn’t what
rankles upon seeing Troy. The disappointment is that ham-fisted
direction and, most crucially, a sniggerinducingly bad screenplay
have turned what could have been the most glorious of the summer
blockbusters into an insipid, uninspired, disappointment. Victor Mature and Charlton Heston could get away with cheesy,
overlytheatrical dialogue in the classic 50’s epics, but
very few of the stars on show manage to rise above the risible
lines they’ve been force-fed. Brad, Bean and Byrne cope
well, Bana struggles manfully, Bloom is, as ever, appalling,
whilst Brian (Cox) turns Agamemnon into a scenery-chewing panto
villain. Perhaps most importantly, as Helen, Diane Kruger has a
face that may have launched 300 or so ships, but a personality
that would have struggled to float a dinghy, leaving us
wondering, without the machinations of the gods, what all the
fuss was about. There are some redeeming scenes; the portrayal of
noble Hector means that we’re rooting for the losing side
when his showdown with Achilles comes, and Peter O’Toole,
between wide-eyed stares, shows us how this acting lark should be
done when pleading for his son’s body. Yet far more common
are terribly misjudged moments, some blame for which lies with
director Wolfgang Petersen (witness Odysseus’ hilarious
lightbulb moment when watching a soldier carve a wooden horse)
but more with writer David Benioff, who is not even above
pilfering wholesale from the likes of Gladiator. At one point,
Achilles tells Briseis that it never ends, and it’s
difficult to know whether he’s referring to the cycle of war
or Troyitself. It’s sadly ironic that a film so insistent on
reminding us that immortality is achieved through memorable deeds
should ultimately prove so forgettable.ARCHIVE: 3rd week TT 2004
Wooden heroes, toy horses, epic flop
