Medieval action movie fails to live up to talented cast


Remember Ocean’s Eleven, the brilliantly acted, written and directed thriller about a Las Vegas casino heist by Danny Ocean’s band of thieves? Now imagine a medieval setting, cheesier writing and worse acting, where George Clooney gets beheaded in the first 15 minutes and Andy Garcia cries in every scene. In that moment of imagination, you have Last Knights, a film that hardly deserves the limited and on-demand release it has received.

Clive Owen, of Words and Pictures, Shadow Dancer and The Knick fame, plays Raiden, a dreadfully tragic hero who succeeds his medieval master, Bartok (Morgan Freeman), and leads a band of swordsmen to infiltrate the compound of Aksel (Gezza Mott), a corrupt second-in-command to the woefully blase emperor (Peyman Moaadi).

Poor Morgan Freeman. Advertised as one of the film’s superstars, audiences will surely be saddened by the beheading of Freeman’s character within the film’s first minutes — not because it is a particularly sad or emotional moment, but because the film literally kills off its only talented actor in a scene that tries so hard not to be violent that it resembles a glorified hair cut.

From there, cue Ocean’s Eleven knockoff. Besides the fact that it is never actually clear who these knights bear historical resemblance to, it seems that the time it takes to sit through the film is roughly equivalent to the years that have passed between the age of the Last Knights and today. If you enjoy sword fighting for sword fighting’s sake, a bunch of trumpet noises and some lines that could have been borrowed from a George Bush speech pre-Iraq invasion (“You must always be on alert”), then you’ll love the film. But if you are prone to sleepiness on a five-hour car ride and find yourself skeptical after watching a single man slaughter 30 obese, armored henchmen that run toward him at the same time, save your money.

Unfortunately, Last Knights is just an all-around bad film. Usually, reviewers can squeak out some rosy praise for the music, the sweeping and breathtaking scenery, or even the font selected for the credits. But with this film,there was nothing positive to speak of. In bizarre thousand-yard stare after bizarre thousand-yard stare, after looking into the eyes of Owen far longer than any human on planet Earth should, all one can think is: “Bad cinematography, bad cinematography…”

Elevator talk is one of the most fun things about press screenings. After a particularly bad film, the ride down to the parking garage is always dreadfully silent. To break the silence and inject some sense of humor into a group of people who are somber about the dreadful fashion in which they have just wasted two hours of their lives, some blog reviewer or newspaper columnist always comes through with a stab of humor. Ironically, it’s usually a funnier joke than anything said in the movie.

This time, like most times, that person didn’t disappoint.

“Could Clive Owen storm the White House?” someone wondered. In that moment, despite all of the criticism levied above, the sheer impracticality of the mission Owen and company happen upon was captured perfectly. This one is really bad. In his most intoxicated state of mind, M. Night Shyamalan could have fallen asleep on his keyboard and come up with a better plot twist.

In that sense, perhaps there is a redeeming silver lining to Last Knights. Should a group of friends find themselves in woeful boredom on a Wednesday night, when everything from Home Depot to the petting zoo to the creepy bowling alley is closed, dig into your couch cushions for some change and buy this film on pay-per-view. (Please don’t use credit cards, cash or any other semblance of real money — the film doesn’t deserve it.) If you’ve gotten this far, try out the following Last Knights drinking game, which should, of course, be played with water (hydrate, kids!).

First, a gulp every time you get uncomfortable when Owen stares into the eyes of the camera for too long. Second, a swig every time you wonder why a character hasn’t managed to die amid a lengthy sword fight. Third, an extra-big sip when said character actually dies, and a bonus drink if it happens by a beheading which you don’t see because you are still staring into the eyes of Owen.

To those still willing to experience a boring film, or those desperately in need of a social Wednesday night, there is only one thing to say: sweet dreams.