Overdue #5 Conan the Barbarian (1982)
Unless you live in the USA at the time of this review going to ‘print’ (we’re online, who’da thunk?) the likelihood is quite high that you have yet to the see Marcus Nispel’s (ultra hack) new interpretation of Robert E. Howard’s high fantasy hunk. But naturally Howard’s name is not the first that comes to mind in relation to the character (as opposed to Edgar Rice Burroughs in relation to Tarzan), thus we come to the most recognised incarnation of the Barbarian as directed by renowned cinema scribe John Milius (writer of Apocalypse Now, Magnum Force and director of Big Wednesday) and starring none other than Arnold Schwarzenegger.
It would be easy to let nostalgia dominate consensus but at least nostalgia is a staple of some quality inherent in the piece. The quality in this case is mostly in the setting and the spirit of the piece, Milius’s film certainly doesn’t mince word in relation to its medieval setting. This is a world where strength and ‘honour’ is found in steel, where enemies are crushed without hesitation and scantly clad women are offered to our hero as he becomes ‘of pure stock’. Such a non-judgemental tone will probably be absent in the new Jason Mamoa starring version, although this is inherent in the charm of Conan, after all he’s not Conan the Noble. The movie is at its most effective as a story of few words, the most memorable of which are in the first act, chronicling the massacre of Conan’s villiage, the murder of his parents and his endurance of slavery. Making for one vengeful Barbarian.
Conan was certainly a significant movie for Schwarzenegger as it marked his first lead role in a major commercial production, although it can be safely be said that it would be until Arnie had his name above the titles of Commando and Predator before we’d really get a sense of his charisma. Whilst offering a solid performance as Conan, he is never anything above that. True, it is a given fact that analysing Schwarzenegger’s performance in such a film as this is an unrewarding task, but in contrast to his supporting cast he may very well have been the best thing in it. Conan’s sidekick and love interest (Gerry Lopez and Sandhal Bergman) unimpress to the point of narcolepsy, even trusted screen thesps Max Von Sydow and Mako are left with very little to offer. More frustrating is the villain of the piece, the cult leader Thulsa Doom played by none other than James Earl Jones. Jones at least is somewhat unnerving as the hypnotic manipulator; the problem is he’s up against Arnold Schwarzenegger. This wouldn’t be an issue if that dichotomy were drawn in a clearer divide between brawn and brains, but Jones only sporadically appears in the film and any real conflict never seems to ignite, he’s never any physical threat. In a film which is fundamentally a revenge story this is a glaring oversight, muddled more so when a rescue mission is thrown into the mix.
All in all the film establishes a thrilling introduction to Conan, but sadly it also paves the way toward a routine revenge plot. The outcome of said vengeance of course shadows Conan’s revenge in doubt, maybe violence begets violence after all. It would have been more interesting if the film had stuck to its guns and kept to its archaic tone and attitude, at least then it would have been consistent. However, nostalgia it seems comes to the fore once again; we can only watch the film in context of Arnie’s screen credentials over the past thirty years. Still, there’s always the Terminator.
Conan the Barbarian is available on DVD and Blu-Ray from 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment.