What a miserable, pretentious film this was. You'd think that a movie starring Colin Farrell, Christian Bale and Christopher Plummer would be a pretty solid production. You'd be wrong. I'm even predisposed to like period pieces, but this thing was a mess. The way the film was cut together undermined any coherency in the narrative, leaving the baffled viewer struggling to piece together some kind of rationale for the actions of the characters on-screen. I could see this as being an intentional choice early on, as Farrell's John Smith gets lost in the unfamiliar lands, losing his men one by one before being captured by the natives. He's confused, so we're sharing that confusion. Great. I get it. But don't freakin' continue that stylistic approach throughout the rest of the film. And of course Pocahontas is a hot, grown-up Native American sexpot that falls in love with John Smith. From then on it degenerates into a mind-numbing soap opera that makes Disney's animated version of the story look like a historical documentary.
This is a movie that's self-important in all the worst ways. Avoid.
Update: How could I forget the music? Geeze louise, I like Wagner as much as the next guy, but using that same opening horn movement from Das Rheingold over and over and over again was maddening. Not to mention that it threw me out of the film each time, since the music in question was written 200-something years after the supposed events of this film. And yes, I know an original score would be even newer. That's not the point. Deal with it.
Now Playing: The Dr. Demento Show March 6-7, 1999
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