6 Reasons Why Mickey Rourke Makes Immortals Almost Worth Watching

Don’t let my enthusiasm deceive you: Immortals is not a good movie. Like Tarsem’s first big budget film The Cell, it’s very pretty. Visually groovy. High fashion fabulous and even an audio treat. 

But it’s also ridiculous.

Emily! You say. How can a blockbuster epic about Greek mythology not be great? There are gods! And they’re HOT!

There are Titans!

...who scurry like cave dwellers in The Descent and wear more body makeup than the cast of Apocalypto. They’ve been hanging out in a golden box buried deep inside a giant, but really easily penetrable wall. But you know what opens a golden box buried deep inside a giant, but really easily penetrable wall? A sparkling bow that shoots lustrous arrows, of course!

I KNOW! I also can’t wait to see how this subject matter gets tackled in XXX This Ain’t Immortals, coming soon to an online retailer near you. Hopefully it’s an urn-full sexier than the hilariously irresponsible and even more hilariously not sexy oracle seduction scene in the actual movie.

But why harp on the negative when we’ve got something awesome, something truly worthy of the gods’ golden showers? I am, of course referring to Mickey Rourke’s King Hyperion, the deliciously cruel and decadently dressed villain whose prime motivation is ‘the gods SUCK! Let’s unleash the titans!’

This is a great character motivation to have because it means we get to hear Mickey Rourke say ‘unleash the titans.’ A. Lot.

But that’s just the tip of Mt. Olympus. Here’s six more reasons why Rourke rocks:

1. Hat That

The man sports a bevy of headwear during his exploits, but most notably is this black helmet accented by claws (or teeth, or claw teeth) that frame Rourke’s unforgettable mug. Sure, it blocks most peripheral vision, but come on! It also looks like this:

2. Dude smokes folks in a cow

True, it’s not quite as grand as Gary Oldman’s elephant oven, but still...dude smokes folks in a cow.

3. Dieting is for eunuchs

Remember how Elaine was ALWAYS eating on Seinfeld? It was just a thing, and yet it worked. Hyperion has a lot of ‘things’--kickass hats, minions dressed like GWAR--so he didn’t even need another one, but you can’t throw a spear without catching the king feasting on something. I almost wonder if Rouke just refused to leave the craft service table until fresh pomegranates were flown in. Then Tarsem found a compromise, wherein Rourke would start filming, but once the pomegranates arrived, Tarsem HAD to hand them over ASAP. He didn’t have to STOP SHOOTING, just toss the fruit to Rour--er, Hyperion in the middle of a scene and that’s that. We’ll just make it a thing.

4. He’s a ball buster

Literally.


5. Share That Style

Not only does Hyperion sport a range of facewear (including a glizty gold cover that screams Street Fighter’s Vega Goes to Vegas) but he’s so fashion savvy that he MAKES masks the official uniform of his ENTIRE ARMY. From a strategic point of view, it’s not overly smart (vision in battle, anyone?) but for us in the audience, it’s super that a character cares so much. About our entertainment, not his men’s chance of running into walls or surviving.

6. Best. Line. Ever.

“Let me enlighten you,” Hyperion tells a monk prisoner.

How does Mickey Rourke 'enlighten' a monk you ask? 

By setting said dude on fire. Fire ignited by holy water. 


Bad. Ass.

Mind you, I’m not recommending Immortals, and certainly not for the added surcharge of 3D (which is tragically lacking from someone as visually innovative as The Fall’s Tarsem). While the battle scenes offer plenty of head poppings, anything not involving bodies filleted by divine chains or Mickey Rourke’s scowling is duller than a bad history lesson. None of the young leads bring anything other than great abs or pretty hair to the table, and that more than includes the amusingly miscast Stephen Dorff. 

The only glimmer of quality comes from John Hurt, who seemed to have been cast as Burgess Meredith from Clash of the Titans, then everyone forgot he was actually in the movie and thought about just planting him near the craft service table to play with Rourke’s pomegranates and hats until a nearby best boy pointed out that John Hurt does some KILLER narration so why not have him, um, narrate a film that in no way needed narration? See, Immortals opens with an empty quote about the souls of righteous men, but that’s WRITTEN. So we had to actually READ it. Just in case the audience can’t, you know, read, why not have John Hurt read that importantly empty quote out loud at the end of the film?

You know, here I wanted to write a quickie post about Immortals and now I’ve reached the very moment of the film that made me care about what I didn’t see onscreen. The final image--not really a spoiler, as I won’t describe the plot and the trailer already showed it off--is surreal and wonderful. It takes us to a new level of visual imagination that demonstrates Tarsem’s eye is still sharply unique, something that should have been integrated with the story (a la The Fall) throughout the film to produce something we care about AND think is cool-looking. It's a shame the story--a mess of lazy mythology that isn't good enough to take itself as seriously as it does--just flounders, moving from one point to the next because the beats call for it (the deadfish romance is a prime example). Perhaps one day, Tarsem can find a script to match the extraordinary imagery he'll put onscreen.

Especially when it comes to hats.

Killer Klowns From Outer Spain

If like me, you had a decidedly American education when it came to social studies, your knowledge of Spain’s history is probably about as rich as a bag of sodium-free rice cakes. It’s a shame of course, but thankfully, there are some pretty fascinating filmmakers today toying mightily to create surreal metaphors that play as historical(ish) horror movies. Guillermo Del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth is the obvious example, but with The Last Circus, director Alex de la Iglesia creates his own odd--though those three letters don’t really do this tale’s bizarreness any form of justice--spin on Franco and the Spanish Civil War...

or maybe he’s just telling a dramatic love story...

or imagining what Taxi Driver would’ve been like if Travis Bickle were a circus clown (aside from it being renamed ‘Comically Undersized Car Driver,’ of course)

It’s not an easy diagnosis.

Quick Plot: When a peaceful children’s circus clown is dragged into battle and immediately thereafter, hard labor military prison, his son Javier grows up sad...sad CLOWN sad, you might even say. After an ill-fated rescue attempt involving some mighty heavy horse shoes, Javier is orphaned. We revisit him some years later in the 1970s, well after peace is declared and Javier (now played by Carlos Areces) has evolved from an awkwardly skinny teen into an awkwardly chubby boy-child starting his first day of work as, you guessed it, a sad clown.

At the circus, we’re introduced to the typical carny lot, from Ramiro the elephant keeper to a bickering couple with doggie training issues to a vertically challenged daredevil biker. Most of note is Sergio, the superstar head clown who’s great with kids but terrible with alcohol, particularly when it’s drunk in the presence of his beautiful acrobat wife Natalia.

A love triangle ensues, following the typical light-hearted rom-com tropes of spousal abuse, sad trumpet face smashes and dead baby jokes. For reasons that won’t be spoiled here, Javier is forced to flee the circus and survive naked in a forest ditch on raw deer meat before becoming a servant dog to the man who killed his father.

Got that? Trust me when I say there’s a whole lot of story points that I can’t cover, some of which includes presidential assassination and Kojak strip shows. At a certain point, Javier undergoes a horrifying self-imposed transformation terrifyingly teased by the tragically underachieving American poster art:

Irons and sulfuric acid are involved. So are squirms.

It all leads to a frantic finale set atop a 500 foot high cross, which Wikipedia was kind enough to tell me was The Valley of the Fallen, a controversial monument ordered by Francisco Franco--himself a supporting player in The Last Circus. As Javier chases Natalia, Sergio chases Javier, the police chase Sergio, and some of the beloved circus folk watch while the soundtrack roars...and roars...and roars.

Subtlety ain’t served at this circus.

The Last Circus is, as you might imagine, an odd bit of cinema. If it were a pizza, you might say the circus is a historical metaphor for 20th century Spanish history, the cheese is pure horror movie, sauce composed of a typical love story and toppings an eclectic mix of circus tricks, some terrifying and others hysterical. 

Stay with me on the food thing. I promise it will make sense (maybe). I liken The Last Circus to a pizza not because I’m hungry but more because a pizza is easily defined by its parts. You know what works or doesn’t work on a large cheese pie, be it a burnt crust or the deliciously fresh mozzarella. Each ingredient is a separate entity, unlike soup or stew or even the more fluid Pan’s Labyrinth, where everything mixes more seamlessly. The Last Circus--a film I do quite like--stumbles a tad in its (perhaps inevitable) disjointedness. Javier’s journey covers everything from sweet puppy love literally coated in cotton candy to playing the role of a mute slave serving a military sadist. Were I more familiar with Spanish history, I imagine I’d be able to better analyze the story and probably appreciate Iglesia’s use of cinematic metaphor. Putting that aside, does The Last Circus hold up as a mere film narrative?

Absolutely. Though the chaos reigns with the furor of a Von Trier talking fox, The Last Circus is something special. The opening 1930s clown-on-the-battlefield feels like a piece of absurdist theater set on cinematic fire, while Areces’ rotund sadness lends the center an unusual heart. The love story works because the actors are interesting and the relationships are clearly about more than just love. Javier is sufficiently sympathetic before being transformed into something insanely frightening, although unfortunately, his Falling Down-like rampage doesn’t quite deliver on the horrifying promises it seems to make. It’s forgiven when the film’s funniest scene closes things out. 

So The Last Circus is also funny, something that I believe will prove more evident upon a repeat viewing. It’s scary, simply because civil war and clowns and mutilated faces and fascism are...you know, SCARY. To call The Last Circus a horror film is a compliment to both the movie and genre. It’s not quite as good as I wanted it to be, but it’s something truly different that delivers on a few--if not all--its fronts.

High Points

Much like A Serbian Film, The Last Circus makes absolutely phenomenal use of its sound, both in the brilliantly composed score to the chilling sound effects

As my undying adoration for the Lou Diamond Philips’ classic The First Power proves, I do love me a good horse stomping

Low Points

Considering some of the pretty incredible visuals at play in The Last Circus, we certainly could’ve done with a more imaginative poster design eh?

Lessons Learned

The greatest war tactic of all time might indeed involve unleashing your secret weapon upon the enemy, and by secret weapon, I am of course referring to a clown armed with a machete

Few skills are less dismal than the gunfire aim of mid-20th century Spanish police officers 

Female elephants are, in a word, possessive creatures

There is no mother. No. Mother. Got that?

See/Skip/Wait It Out Impatient Jerk

The Last Circus is not a perfect film, but it’s something truly unique and incredibly confident about being so. There’s a chance a whole lot of viewers will hate it, but even if the major narratives don’t click for you, the visuals and sound might well be enough to keep your senses sated. Sadly I doubt the film will make a stop at most major theaters, but if the circus comes to your town, it’s absolutely worth the trip. 

It's a Tree Baby!

Here at the Deadly’ Doll’s House, we’re an equal opportunity villain establishment. In other words, just because you’re constructed from a tree does not mean you’re not welcomed at February’s Attack of the Vertically Challenged Villains and thusly do I present today’s features, the Czech Republic’s 2000 arthouse hit, Little Otik.

Quick Plot: Karel and Bozena want nothing more than to have a baby, as every watermelon and fish market teases them daily with an impossible pregnancy. On a weekend trip to their wacky neighbors’ cabin in the woods, Karel gets inspired to craft a mock infant out of an unusual tree branch, finding its shape hilarious. Bozena,  much to his surprise, is delighted (and suddenly slightly insane). They finally have a BABY!

Men, be warned: This is what happens when you play a joke on your female partner’s uterus.

Try as he may, Karel can’t convince his wife that their child is, you know, an inanimate piece of bark. The best he can do is persuade her to fake a pregnancy and introduce the newly named baby Otik into the world a few trimesters later. Faster than you can say Pinnochio, Bozena knits some baby bumps, breaks out the pickles and whipped cream, and announces her news to nosy apartment mates.

Chief amongst the neighbors is Alzbetka a precocious little blond obsessed, as it would seem, with obstetrics. Abby (as I’ll now call her because really, Ablkjlkj is hard to write) is instantly suspicious of the infertile couple’s sudden turn in luck, an itch that grows months later when Bozena starts pushing around an always covered baby carriage.

See, Otik does indeed achieve ‘real-boy’ status, but much like Grace, it’s not going to send him into the preschool honor society. He’s hungry, aggressive, and growing treenails every day, eventually reaching Audrey II proportions. His parents do what they can, but once apartment pets and civil servants start disappearing, parental sympathy beings to wane.

The plot of Little Otik isn’t necessarily surprising, but the execution is playful, unique, and truly remarkable. Director Jan Svankmajer has a lot of fun with his quirky but familiar characters, from Abby’s ahead-of-her years preteen to a dirty old man whose pants pop open in adorable stop motion whenever he catches sight up her skirt. The design of Otik is both cute and haunting, while the fairy tale elements (beautifully illustrated with folk-tale-like animated drawings) add another layer of intrigue.

Now the bad news: Little Otik is two hours and six minutes long. Had the film maintained a focus for that running time, this wouldn’t be a problem, but unfortunately, it just...keeps...going. At a certain point, we completely lose our original leads as Abby becomes more prominent. Her character (and performance) is certainly entertaining, but the switch happens so deep into the already dense film that it kind of lost me.

High Points

Svankmajer’s camera is wonderfully used, with interesting angles and even more interesting faces getting full exploration

Low Points

2 hours. And 6 minutes.

Lessons Learned

Tree bark butts get very dry

Much like those hungry Cabbage Patch Kids form the late ‘90s, feeding a tree bark baby will run you the risk of having your ponytail eaten as dessert

If it’s going to be chocolate, it’s got to be Charon

Hey kid, I know you’re eleven and all but if you’re uncomfortable with the ancient neighbor ogling your rear, maybe you should wear a skirt that actually covers it

Rent/Bury/Buy

Little Otik is something genuinely different, a Basket Case-like tale told with a tad more class and visual intrigue. It’s a definite recommend for those fans of tamed surrealism, though the overlong running time might be felt. Still, if there’s one thing the world needs more of, it’s movies on Instant Watch about carnivorous tree babies that eat mailmen and whose downfall is cabbage. That’s written in the bible somewhere, I’m sure.

Christmas With the Cassels

Sometimes one performance really can make a film. Other times, one performance plus a supporting turn in pregnant drag by the same insanely charismatic actor can simply win all.

Kim Chapiron‘s Sheitan will never be called an unmemorable movie. Derivative of other suggested inbred horror? Maybe. Annoying filmed and stocked with characters that need more face punching than a wormy Steven Dorff? You betcha. Unfocused and unresolved? You can say that.

But all these insults ignore the fact that as an eternally smiling bucktoothed animal loving satanic SOMETHING, Vincent Cassel gives one of the funnest, most bizarre and energetic performances I’ve ever seen. It’s almost a Christmas miracle.

Quick Plot: A trio of horny young men make some trouble at a horrifically seizure-inducing club on Christmas Eve. Enter the aptly named Eve, a mysterious temptress who brings the gang (plus too nice hanger-on Yasmine and a smelly unneutered pit mix) to her country home, a strange mansion filled with eerie puppets, a random gang of gangly goofs, and the pure perfection of Joseph, Cassel’s sweater vest (sans shirt) wearing caretaker.

Anyone who’s seen any of the hundres of TCM ripoffs knows something is amiss, and most of us have been well trained enough to predict the plot. Emotionally ugly party kids act obnoxious. EUPKs start getting suspicious. Someone is placed in a situation of seduction and dies horribly pre-orgasm. The remaining EUPKs fight back. One survives, typically amongst lots of screaming. A hit of sequel cues the credits. Rinse and repeat.

Except Sheitan has no plans whatsoever of retreading America’s favorite subgenre. Yes, the setup echoes a dozen other titles, but whether it’s defiant in not satisfying your predictions or just prefers to dally in the details, Sheitan simply avoids the final chase scenes we horror audiences are so conditioned to expect.

This doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a masterpiece of originality. By trying os hard to be bizarre, Sheitan occasionally just feels annoying. We care nothing for our leads, from their bastardly games of gas ‘n dash, cheating on girlfriends with no guilt, and generally, treating property as if it were their own personal urinal. Perhaps it’s refreshing to not have to worry about inevitable victims. But it also means we have to spend 90 minutes with their awfulness.

Is Sheitan a comedy? Maybe. There’s plenty of humor, including raunchy sight gags like Eve getting a goat milk facial. 

The Franklin character of Bart, an unhygienic, ill-mannered jerk, is quite fun to watch squirm, especially when it’s Cassel’s insane Joseph putting on the discomfort.  On the other hand, you get some horrifically creepy dolls that seem to tease you every moment as you wonder when they’ll suddenly engage in a French folk dance or stab someone’s eyes out with cheese knieves. And just when you think he can’t get any better, Cassel shows up with an unflattering banged wig and pregnant belly. At this point, you can’t not want to watch this movie.

Yet I honestly don’t know what in Eden I though of Sheitan. It defies typical horror conventions with such aggression that you simply can’t get a proper handle on what it is. That’s not a bad thing, but it also makes the film one tough nut to crack.

High Points

Did I mention Vincent Cassel is in this movie? DId I mention he’s beyond fabulous. Just to be clear: Vincent Cassel is in this movie and he is indeed beyond fabulous

Though it doesn’t really do too much with its December 25th setting, Sheitan is a refreshingly different alternative to the pile of killer Santa movies that hogs up xmas horror

Low Points

MINOR SPOILERS: When you make us hate characters as much as the guys (particularly the increasingly smarmy Ladj) why would you not show us their ultimate fates?

MINOR SPOILERS DONE

Lessons Learned

Tall men have a lot of strength in their upper leg region

Unevenly matched games of pool chicken have bigger dangers than your pride

If you don’t want the truly obnoxious men you’ve just met to play with your father’s handmade dolls, perhaps you should stop showing them every single room where said dolls are stored

French nightclubs=the driveway to hell. Why does that not surprise me?

Rent/Bury/Buy

You know those nights when you feel like doing something new and wacky, say, pouring hot sauce on popcorn or sleeping with your feet where your head usually rests? Sheitan is the film for those times, one you’ll recognize bits of from your favorite hick horror but ultimately be blindsided by its utter weirdness. Cassel fans simply can’t pass it by. In all honestly, I wouldn’t necessarily say I liked Sheitan, but the experience was one I won’t soon forget. 

And let’s face it. Any movie that gives us this:

is one worth watching