Misplaced magic

Perhaps no story has been as told and retold as the legend of King Arthur. Original incarnations of Arthurian mythology have been written in Latin, Russian, Hebrew, and Icelandic and date from as early as the seventh century. It makes sense, then, that writer/director Guy Ritchie would want to give the classic tale of the round table a fresh spin. And for the first 30 minutes, his zany King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (rated PG-13 for language, violence, and suggestive near-nudity) makes a terrific run at it.

After his evil Uncle Vortigern (Jude Law) assassinates his father, Arthur (Charlie Hunnam) is left to fend for himself and learn some martial arts (yes, you heard me right) on the rowdy streets of post-Roman Londinium. He and his motley crew of brothel-house hoodlums are as shocked as everyone else when the scruffy scammer pulls Excalibur from a stone. But like Herod, Vortigern uses the occasion of the royal unmasking to try to assassinate his rival.

Arthur’s traditional depiction as a Christ figure plays out in other, perhaps unintentional ways. While a group of women weep over his impending death, Hunnam stands silent before accusers who mockingly present him to a crowd of unruly Britons as your “born king.” It’s the closest Ritchie ever comes to the story’s early symbolism. From there, in a sequence of Jolly Old England meets Ocean’s Eleven, Arthur joins up with a few of his father’s loyal men-in-hiding to devise Vortigern’s takedown.

Had Ritchie had the courage of his signature style and continued in this vein, he might have had a film that, if not canonical, is at least entertaining. Instead, in what appears to be an appeal to the popularity of TV shows like Vikings and Game of Thrones (from which the movie borrows a few actors), he wades deep into a mushy, mystical middle and never wades back out.

So mystic and mushy is it, I didn’t realize until I was looking up actors’ names for this review that a beautiful “mage” who appears and instructs Arthur to travel to a place called “the dark lands” is supposed to be Guinevere. This time-wasting, trippy detour is ostensibly intended to help Arthur discover some inner truth. What he actually discovers are The Princess Bride’s Rodents of Unusual Size.

Merlin’s name is thrown around now and then for further magical-cred until more phantasms arrive in the form of demonic-looking warriors and a trio of beyond-weird, bloodthirsty squid sisters.

Worst of all is the film’s treatment of Excalibur. Instead of proving Arthur’s nobility of spirit and worthiness to rule, it becomes a video-game gimmick. Perhaps to remind us this isn’t Malory’s Arthur and we’re still supposed to be having an anachronistically great time, Hunnam doesn’t so much wield Excalibur as drop bombs with it. A single tap to the ground causes hordes of soldiers to fall down senseless.

To illustrate how dull the magical gobbledygook grows, let me say I count myself a fantasy geek of the highest order. From Lewis to Tolkien, Robert Jordan to Patrick Rothfuss, if it has castles and occurs in a vaguely medieval land, I’m in. The Sword in the Stone is my once and future favorite Disney movie. And yet, I felt not the smallest stir of emotion when the film revealed which of the good-natured ruffians would become which fabled knight. Oh, turns out that guy’s Sir Percival and that other guy’s Sir Tristan? Well anyway, I’m out of popcorn, so let’s wrap up this show.

Every generation should have the pleasure of interpreting Arthur in a new light, and the idea of him as brawling, quick-witted, and street tough with the hustle of a young Richard Branson could have been a ton of fun. Too bad Ritchie didn’t keep on telling that story.