Article theme: Excalibur - Headstone
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| Real Männerbund hours are now in effect. |
Undoubtedly the greatest cinematic treatment of the Arthuriad, John Boorman's Excalibur eschews any modish notion of realism (read: everything looking grey and brown) for downright psychedelic aesthetic excess. Smoke, fog, flames, lightning, weird green glows emanating from the titular sword (or nowhere in particular) combine in a deliriously heightened fever dream. Performances are almost childlike in their raw emotion. Dialogue has a way of being pertinent to everything while specific to nothing, as in a dream you sense is laden with meaning you can't articulate; as when you briefly glimpse the worlds beyond the veil.
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| It's my position that Arthur was a real historical figure *and* his Britain had this stylised aesthetic, and I'm sticking to it. |
Arthur (Nigel Terry) himself is decentred, appearing late in the game, a symbolic figurehead whose rise is engineered by scene-stealing upstart protagonist Merlin (Nicol Williamson) after the disappointment of his efforts to steer Uther (Gabriel Byrne) toward the same role. Merlin, against his reservations, helps Uther bang Lady Igraine (Katrine Boorman) on the condition that their child will be his - for this Merlin is all but stated to be a faery in the classic, pre-Disney sense of the word: an enigmatic woodland spirit who steals away human children for mysterious ends. He can see somewhat of the future, perhaps influence it in some ways, but for all his wisdom and insight cannot altogether change the course of fate.
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| Damn, Merlin, I'm on thin ice with the ADL as it is. |
Under his guidance, Arthur sees off Saxon raiders and presides over a fleeting golden age (golden while?) which is doomed to end in dissolution and darkness. The essence of Arthur's arc is apprehending the true nature of his role, not as a man but as a beacon by which future generations, lost in the abyssal ocean of horror, might find their way.
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| It's never over. |
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