Conan the Barbarian

I finally got around to watching Conan the Barbarian (1982), another John Milius epic, but one of distinctly lesser quality than the previous Milius efforts reviewed for this blog. The movie has a certain amount of undeniable camp appeal, especially for fans of Arnold Schwarzenegger, but it's not really a good movie, however many incredulous guffaws it garners.

Loosely based on the Robert E. Howard comic strip, the film tells the story of Conan (Arnold Schwarzenegger at his buffest), who witnesses his parents being killed by Thulsa Doom (James Earl Jones), the fierce leader of a murderous snake cult somewhere in Asia. After growing up as a slave, Conan continues to entertain thoughts of revenge, and strikes out on a quest for righteous vengeance. Together with a Mongol warrior (Gerry Lopez), a cowardly wizard (Mako) and a beautiful Amazon warrior (Sandahl Bergman), Conan seeks to defeat Doom, avenge his father, and establish himself as ruler.

John Milius's work as a director has tended to awkwardly balance the sublime and the ridiculous, the goofy and the thoughtful, with mixed results. The Wind and the Lion, despite its flaws, is undoubtedly Milius's best work, and a truly great adventure film; Dillinger, Red Dawn and Rough Riders are all good enough films that flirt with greatness but don't quite achieve it. Here, Milius and screenwriter Oliver Stone opt for all out goofiness (with a brief but childish grasp at Nietzschean ideas), and the result is a sight to behold. Unfortunately, it's not a particularly good sight, all things considered.

The film's flaws are myriad. The movie's story, for a start, is all over the place, with all sorts of bizarre digressions that make the plot impossible to follow. The characters are broadly drawn and ridiculous, which isn't a huge flaw given the source material and subject matter. The tone is largely uneven, yet its serious moments are undermined by the overwhelming, pervasive cheesiness throughout (how seriously can you take a film about men transforming into giant snakes and Arnold punching camels in the face?). The dialogue is off-the-wall bad, making the Billy Jack movies look like screenwriting idols. The film's goofy nature is almost certainly intentional, but it doesn't make it any easier to swallow. If it's intentionally campy, it's still not overly entertaining. Some may find the camp goofiness more palatable, but for me it wasn't the type of camp I could really enjoy.

Milius's direction is pretty rote: he again shows a flare for action scenes and does a decent job with his cast, but the film lacks the visual interest of his better films and seems pretty paint-by-numbers in a technical manner. The movie does have some interesting movie buff moments; the story seems a curious blend of The Searchers and Milius's own Apocalypse Now script, and the film uses many familiar Almerian locations from various Spaghetti Westerns and The Wind and the Lion, but really these are of but passing interest.

Arnold Schwarzenegger achieved instant mega-stardom in his role, and while it's not his worst performance, he manages to be absolutely ridiculous. His hulking muscles don't hide a dearth of acting talent, and Arnold's facial expressions and thick-as-pancake-batter accent provide some moments of ridiculous camp humor. To Milius's credit, though, Ahnuld is supported by a coterie of very talented supporting actors: James Earl Jones gives a strong performance as Thulsa Doom, much better than the silly material deserves, and veteran character actors Max Von Sydow (The Exorcist), Mako (The Sand Pebbles) and William Smith (Red Dawn) turn in fine performances as well.

Conan the Barbarian is an utterly silly romp, and not in the good sense. It's entertaining in its own way, I suppose, and more generous reviewers may be inclined to rate it higher; it's not exactly trying to be Citizen Kane, after all. But for me, it's not worth much as a film or as entertainment, and I can't give it really high marks, merely a quizzical headshake and a befuddled utterance of "Dude..."