- guardian.co.uk,
- Monday March 17 2008 15:36 GMT
Robert Zemeckis' third foray into motion-capture technique is very different from his cuddly Polar Express and the impressive Monster House, which he co-produced. Beowulf is from the biff-bang brand of blockbusterdom, in which characters often remind you who they are, lest you've forgotten amid all the punch-ups and having things repeatedly thrown at you, the viewer (this was made for IMAX and looks a bit 3-D): "I am Beowulf. I am here to kill your mon-stah!" says Beowulf.
So what kind of person is this monster-slayer? You don't have to wait for subtle character development to give you hints, as Beowulf provides his own potted biography: "I am ripper, tearer, slasher, gouger. I am the teeth in the darkness ..." and a good deal more, which sum up that he is well 'ard. He is also Ray Winstone, but confusingly with the face (more or less) of Sean Bean, and a six-pack - the body type, not the cans, though judging by the amount of mead being poured down the throats of King Hrothgar (Anthony Hopkins) and his cohorts, binge-drinking didn't start with supermarkets. It was alive and well in Denmark in 507AD, when our tale begins, as were a Cyclopsian sea-monster and a nude Angelina Jolie simulacrum. What with this, some rugby-style songs, lines like "Any chance of a gobble?" and the occasional axe-in-the-head moment, it's surprising that Beowulf has a 12 certificate.
At times, it looks beautiful and ethereal, with a golden glow; at others, it goes a bit jerky, à la Ray Harryhausen, whose stop-motion technique had to suffice for this sort of thing 40 years ago. Everyone, except Angelina, talks extra gruff, and with writers Neil "Stardust" Gaiman and Roger "Pulp Fiction" Avary on board, there's a good deal of tongue-in-cheek on the menu along with the fire-breathing dragons, damsels in distress and beefy geezers. Probably the year's best movie adapted from an 11th-century epic poem.
