Throne of Blood (1957)

Posted on May 29, 2008 by badblokebob

aka Kumonosu jô

2008 #33
Akira Kurosawa | 105 mins | DVD | PG or 12

Kurosawa moves Macbeth from Scotland to 16th Century Japan in this retelling of Shakespeare’s infamous Scottish Play. I’ve heard this described as a loose adaptation — perhaps those reviewers have never read the play. Kurosawa sticks very closely to the structure of Shakespeare’s version of the story (though based on real events, Shakespeare changed key details), often choosing to adapt it scene-for-scene. It works well in the new setting, with some of the themes — honour, respect, betrayal — perhaps becoming more understandable when placed in samurai culture. Kurosawa changes other elements too — character names are understandably localised, there’s only one witch, there’s no version of the famous “Is this a dagger which I see before me?” monologue, and so on. It’s not all omissions however, as Kurosawa adds imagery and symbolism of his own. Again this helps to place the story in its new context, but also covers the loss of Shakespeare’s original language (a major sticking point for some critics).

Beyond the Shakespearean similarities (or lack of), there’s much to see in Throne of Blood — literally, thanks to the atmospheric cinematography. Most of the exteriors are doused in fog, and while this is sometimes over-done (an extended sequence of Washizu and Miki riding in and out of it goes on too long) it also makes for some amazing moments, such as when the trees of Cobweb Forest drift menacingly forward. The interior of the forest is suitably oppressive and scary too, the perfect location for encountering a witch. Kurosawa was inspired by Japanese Noh theatre in his construction of the film, so there are a lot of longer shots that allow the characters to be blocked as if on stage. It’s not overly theatrical, thankfully, and works suitably.

Cinematic techniques are not entirely abandoned however. The most memorable is the banquet scene, in which Washizu sees Miki’s ghost: we see Miki’s empty seat, the camera tracks forward to a shocked Washizu, then back to reveal the ghost of Miki sat at his place, before tracking and panning around the room to follow Mifune’s brilliant performance. It’s an infinitely more effective reveal than any amount of jiggery pokery with dissolves or CGI could provide. Similarly, Washizu’s iconic death scene — in which hundreds of arrows puncture him and the surrounding walls — is impressively achieved (using real arrows), including one seamless shot when an arrow pierces his neck.

Macbeth is my favourite Shakespeare play — it’s a great story, with great themes, imagery and language. Throne of Blood obviously loses some of this, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest — Kurosawa has constructed an excellent and well-conceived retelling with a few of his own flourishes.

A note on the classification: the UK DVD from the BFI is rated PG, classified in 1991. A few months after the DVD’s release in 2001, the film was re-submitted to the BBFC and received a 12. Quite way the rating was raised isn’t explained, and copies of the DVD still bear a PG on the cover.

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007)

Posted on May 21, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #30
Tim Burton | 112 mins | DVD | 18 / R

Tim Burton and Johnny Depp collaborate for the sixth time (as the DVD’s blurb is so keen to point out) for a film adaptation of Stephen Sondheim’s musical adaptation of the classic tale of the titular barber who slaughters instead of shaves and sells the resultant meat to all of London in the pies of his accomplice, Mrs Lovett.

As with 2005’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the announcement of Burton as director of Sweeney Todd was one of those “well, of course” moments, despite the vastly different audiences. And with Burton come Depp and Helena Bonham Carter, naturally. But whereas the eventual product of Charlie resulted in a “that’s that done then” feeling of the inevitable, Sweeney is more of an unknown quantity for me — I’m familiar with the basic story, of course, but not this particular version. It’s a dark tale, but told here in a heavily stylised manner — no gritty realism to be found (for that try the Ray Winstone TV movie), but instead there’s bold and striking performances, design, direction, and storytelling. One is tempted to call it “theatrical”, but the direction is anything but and the actors do much more than project for the benefit of the back row. It’s anti-naturalistic in all elements, which suits both the ghoulish and musical subject matters perfectly, but is consequently not to everyone’s taste.

As for the musical elements, Sweeney is done in an operatic style — the majority of dialogue is sung and the story is almost entirely told through these songs, rather than having a couple of numbers peppered throughout (quite how they managed to edit a trailer that was both comprehensible and light on song is near miraculous). Anyone who’s seen an Andrew Lloyd Webber production will be familiar with this way of doing things. Personally, I find it a more immersive style — everyone’s singing from the word go, not disconcertingly launching into song a little way in. The cast’s voices may not be perfect (and I’m far from a knowledgeable judge), but they do the job more than adequately. Rough moments almost add to the film’s style, and the cast’s acting abilities more than make up for them anyway. One casting oddity is Anthony Head, who turns up for a sole inconsequential line. He may not be a regular film actor, but surely he’s bigger (and certainly better) than a glorified extra? He’s not even listed in the end credits. I smell deleted scenes… (A bit of IMDb reading reveals I’m right. Sadly, these aren’t included on the DVD.)

The other striking element of Sweeney Todd is its look. London here is a dingy monochrome metropolis, interrupted only by fanciful fairytale-coloured fantasies like the song By the Sea, and, of course, gallons of vibrant spurting blood. Wisely held off until relatively late in the film, when the blood comes it is all the more shocking. And from that point it flows like wine — or, more accurately, squirts like a stamped-on ketchup bottle — in perfectly judged amounts: it gushes far more than you’d normally see but, because Burton never pushes it to the mad excess that Tarantino did in Kill Bill, it remains on the disturbing side of believable. The stylised theatricality of it almost makes you question the high classifications, but the underlying morals and sheer bloody volume ultimately justify them.

Yet there’s something missing from Sweeney Todd. I can’t work out what it is — perhaps the numerous numbers Burton cut or trimmed have unbalanced proceedings slightly, in some frustratingly ephemeral way? — but despite all this praise and only vague criticisms, I’m certain it’s a four-star film. A very solid four, to be sure, but it doesn’t achieve enough to pass higher.

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is on Channel 4 tonight, Saturday 9th August 2014, at 11:10pm.

Henry V (1989)

Posted on May 18, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #29
Kenneth Branagh | 132 mins | DVD | PG / PG-13

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, as I delve into a second version of Henry V in as many (viewing) days. (I dread to think how many reviews of this film began with a similar quote-based pun.) Inevitably, having watched them so close together, this is as much a comment on the relative merits of Branagh’s and Olivier’s interpretations of Henry V as it is a review of Branagh’s film in its own right.

Branagh’s version opens with almost a direct homage to Olivier’s, though with an important difference. Olivier opened with the Chorus’ narration on a stage ; Branagh opens with the Chorus’ narration on a film set. Rather than wasting half an hour with this conceit (as Olivier did), Branagh pushes into the ‘reality’ of the story before another actor has even entered. And his reality is much more real. The film looks as if it’s lit by candles and daylight, the castles and tavern are rough and dark, the battlefields muddy and grimy; everyone gets dirty and bloodied by the fights. On the whole it’s a grittier and more realistic version. Yet there’s room for more than that. The story still seems concluded at the Battle of Agincourt, but the proposal scene no longer feels tacked on. In fact it’s now laugh-out-loud hilarious, with Branagh and Emma Thompson demonstrating the undeniable chemistry that would help make Much Ado About Nothing so good a few years later. Unlike Olivier’s fluffy limp to the credits, this is an entertaining round-off to the plot.

The fact I’d never seen a version of Henry V before Olivier’s ostensibly gives Branagh’s the benefit of a better understanding on my part. Practically, it matters little that I saw Olivier’s first, as the more modern and film-friendly performances in Branagh’s version mean that, while Olivier’s allowed me to broadly follow the majority of what was happening, Branagh’s gives more access to the nuances of both plot and character. He’s aided in the latter by the inclusion of scenes deemed inappropriate for a World War 2 propaganda film: in one, Henry and co confront three traitors; in another, he hangs an old friend in order to make an example. Other scenes are played differently too, so that Branagh’s Henry is a more complex and morally debatable figure, unlike Olivier’s bright-eyed hero. Whatever your opinions on the two actors on the whole, these changes make for a better character and therefore a better film.

It would be remiss not to mention the rest of the cast. Brian Blessed is positively restrained as Exeter, one of Henry’s key associates — you’d never imagine he could turn in such a performance if you’d only seen his recent go at hosting Have I Got News For You. Paul Schofield, as the aging French King, and Michael Maloney, as the contemptible Dauphin, help flesh out the French side more than Olivier’s version managed, as does Christopher Ravenscroft’s Mountjoy, the French herald who all but switches his allegiance. The English ranks are swelled by Bilbo Baggins, Hagrid, and the current incarnations of ‘M’ and Batman (don’t worry, the French have Miss Marple); not to mention the recognisable faces of Richard Briers, Danny Webb, Simon Shepherd and John Sessions (and no doubt others I’ve accidentally missed). Of course, a starry and recognisable cast does not necessarily a good film make, but this is a dependable lot and there are good performances all round — even if Ian Holm’s Welsh accent is somewhat dubious (though it’s a lunar leap on from the one in Olivier’s version).

And deserving of a paragraph unto himself is Derek Jacobi’s masterful Chorus, who, with just a handful of narrational lines and a big black coat, is somehow one of the coolest characters I’ve seen of late.

There’s no contest here for me. Olivier’s version is an over-stylised, propaganda-inspired, outdated version of Shakespeare, whereas Branagh’s is a comprehensible, realistic, textured and, perhaps most importantly, genuinely enjoyable interpretation.

Henry V (1944)

Posted on May 16, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #28
Laurence Olivier | 131 mins | VHS | U

Or The Chronicle History of King Henry the Fift with His Battell Fought at Agincourt in France, as the title card (and therefore IMDb) would have it.

The works of Shakespeare tend to be a love-it-or-hate-it experience for most people, often based on one’s social class and/or experiences at school (obviously not exclusively). Just to be awkward, I’m going to say I have mixed feelings about his plays: on the one hand, I consistently enjoy Macbeth and find Much Ado About Nothing a diverting enough rom-com; on the other, I was bored by Richard III, even when played by Sir Ian McKellen, and never got on with A Midsummer Night’s Dream (to pick just two examples for each side). I imagine most people have their likes and dislikes of course, but I often feel I fall between the the dislike Normal people have for Shakespeare and the love that Cultured people have for him.

This may seem beside the point, but it does lead to Olivier’s Henry V. Simply put, I didn’t much care for it. It failed to engage me, and I’d put this down to Olivier’s infamous staging (literally) of it. The first half hour is a recreation of the play’s first performance in 1600, complete with fluffed sound cues and heckles from the crowd. The goings-on backstage and performer/crowd interactions heavily distract from the actual text being performed, as much as anything because they’re more entertaining. Then, cued by one of the Chorus’s lines, the film moves to showing the story in ‘reality’ — except this is a reality made of painted scenery, primary-coloured landscapes, and cardboard fairy castles. It’s a deliberate effect, designed to emulate pre-Renaissance painting, but it didn’t work for me — it’s over-stylised and distracting, and if you’re not familiar with the play (as I wasn’t) getting distracted is a problem. The concept of transition from performance to reality has potential (as would the idea of presenting the whole thing on stage with crowd interactions, actually, considering I missed them when they went), but I personally feel Olivier executed it poorly. For one thing, it spends too long bedding in the feel of the stage performance before it gets round to the shift to reality.

Stylised productions can work, and excellently, but here the direction and acting are sometimes as flat as the castles. Actors arbitrarily shout some lines, hush others, and put in emphasis of dubious relevance — it’s like Shakespeare-by-numbers, the sort of production that reveres the text so much it doesn’t bother to think about it. It hampers any understanding of what they’re saying, especially for newcomers. Perhaps more fairly, the performance style is incredibly stagey. My degree-related reading suggests this is one of the earliest proper Shakespeare films (previous adaptations being silent or even less complete), so perhaps the idea of a more subdued, screen-acting style had yet to permeate such productions. Things do pick up as the film goes on: the battles are effective, and the proposal scene is more comfortably performed than the pre-war politics. That said, the story seems to be over once Agincourt is won, so by modern structural standards the hasty single-scene romance that follows feels pointlessly tacked on.

Olivier’s Henry V has received plenty of praise in its time, as well as derision, largely for its conception as World War 2 propaganda. The latter is hard to ignore, with grand speeches delivered in a way reminiscent of Churchill’s and scenes removed so that Henry’s character becomes unquestionably good — both aspects that are distinctly less relevant to today’s more complex, war-dubious world. Even leaving the propaganda aside, the performances are outdated, the design several stylised steps too far, and on the whole the production failed to engage or hold my interest. However good it may once have seemed, I think this version has had its day.

Next I’ll be reviewing Kenneth Branagh’s all-star 1989 version of Henry V, here.

L.A. Confidential (1997)

Posted on May 12, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #26
Curtis Hanson | 132 mins | DVD | 18 / R

Once again I’m watching an adaptation shortly after plowing through the source novel, a situation that has so far proved awkward for giving films a fair assessment. L.A. Confidential is an especially tricky one: how does a 480-page, densely written, intricately plotted crime novel, spanning seven years and “no fewer than four and perhaps as many as a dozen major crimes”, translate into a two-and-a-quarter-hour film? With more than a few surprises, as it turns out, because the apparently minor changes near the film’s start turn out to be the proverbial pebble in a pond: their ripples spread so far that, by the second half, not even a reader who can remember the many details of the novel’s complex plot will know for sure what’s coming.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. If screenwriters Hanson and Brian Helgeland had tried to squeeze in everything the movie would have been rushed even at three hours. Instead they’ve excised several unnecessary subplots and trimmed others to the bare minimum. Most impressively, they’ve picked apart several of the multitudinous plot threads and completely restructured them. It’s an incredible feat of adaptation. The downside is that some great strands are lost. Ed Exley’s father plays a huge role in the novel but is completely absent here; Inez Soto, the victim of a brutal gang rape, is reduced from a key supporting character to a couple of lines. Another connected loss is some characterisation. Jack Vincennes and Exley lose the most, though Bud White’s development is tied too closely to the main storyline. That said, the characters are still mostly there, painted quickly and precisely; they may lack some of the depth and complexity the novel can offer, but that’s an almost unavoidable difference between a film and a long, well-written novel. To make a good film such sacrifices are necessary — even though it’s been simplified, the novel’s complex plot is still a long way from becoming straightforward.

What impressed me most about L.A. Confidential is that, despite spending huge chunks of the film pondering what they’d cut and changed, I still enjoyed it immensely. Even while distracted with thoughts of the novel, its differences and its relative merits, I could still enjoy the fantastic filmmaking. The casting is perfect, especially Spacey, Pearce and Crowe (perhaps the last most of all, considering his penchant for real life violence). For once it really is as if the roles were written for them, making it easy to forget that Pearce and Crowe were virtually unknown at the time. They’re supported by a cracking screenplay (which I think I’ve praised plenty already) and beautiful direction, which manages to evoke the period without being shot like a period film — Hanson has stated that he aimed to make it period-accurate but shoot it like a modern thriller, and he’s succeeded. There may be one or two imperfections (the music felt a little repetitive to me, for example), but they’re slight and it seems churlish to pick on them in any depth.

I look forward to watching L.A. Confidential again without the novel hanging over my head. I’ve made my comparisons now, and my memory’s weak enough that, by the time I get round to watching it again (perhaps when the long-rumoured special edition re-release turns up), I’ll have forgotten enough of the novel’s specifics to not be bothered by them. I expect I’ll enjoy it even more then. It’s an excellent achievement, both as an adaptation and a film in its own right. You can’t say fairer than that.

The Baskerville Curse (1983)

Posted on May 7, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #25
Eddy Graham | 67 mins | DVD | U / G

Peter O’Toole is Sherlock Holmes (well, his voice) once again in this animated Conan Doyle adaptation from the ’80s (see also my reviews of two others, The Sign of Four and A Study in Scarlet). Of course, this is an adaptation of that perennially popular Holmes story, The Hound of the Baskervilles, and as such O’Toole barely features. A shame, as he’s the only half decent thing in this mess.

As I’ve previously expressed, The Hound of the Baskervilles is not my favourite Holmes story, though it has its moments and there have been some enjoyable screen versions. Unfortunately, this pointlessly renamed offering retains all of the original’s faults but loses most of the best bits, despite wasting time on train journeys, telegram writing and pointless flashbacks to things we saw just minutes earlier. The animation is poor, even for a production of this level, with dire character design and a total lack of atmosphere (it opens with jolly music over views of primary-coloured countryside!) There are further flaws, but there’s no point wasting any more time going through them. I can only hope that the final entry in this series, The Valley of Fear, will be closer in quality to the other two instalments.

In retrospect, I’m certain I underrated the 1939 adaptation of The Hound of the Baskervilles. I’m equally certain that I shall have no such regrets over this lame attempt.

The Baskerville Curse featured on my list of The Five Worst Films I Saw in 2008, which can be read in full here.

Rashomon (1950)

Posted on May 5, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #24
Akira Kurosawa | 88 mins | DVD | 12 / PG-13

One has to wonder if Dr. Gregory House was exposed to Rashomon at a young age. House’s universal truth — “everyone lies” — is also the conclusion of Kurosawa’s much-lauded film, in which four witnesses tell different versions of the events surrounding a samurai’s murder.

The “Rashomon” of the title is one of two gates to Kyoto, built in 789 and in disrepair and disrepute by the film’s 12th Century setting, but thanks to this film the word has come to signify a narrative that retells the same event from multiple perspectives. Mentioning it seems unavoidable when writing about a film (or episode of TV, or novel, or…) with such a structure, as reviews of recent thriller Vantage Point would attest. However, most similar tales aren’t quite as radical as this ‘original’ (which is based on two short stories by Ryunosuke Akutagawa), in which the four tales differ wildly.

Justifiably, much has been written about Rashomon, both critically and analytically. As such I’m not going to dig too deeply here, but instead just highlight a couple of reasons why it’s so acclaimed. For one, it looks great. Kazuo Miyagawa’s cinematography is exemplary, producing gorgeous rain at the gate, wonderful shadows in the forest, and employing numerous inventive shots and moves, always effective rather than showy. Fumio Hayasaka’s music underscores proceedings beautifully, coming into its own during long dialogue-free sequences. The performances are also accomplished, especially Toshiro Mifune as laughing bandit Tajomaru, but also Masayuki Mori’s largely silent turn as the murdered samurai, and Fumiko Honma’s chillingly freaky medium.

As I said, there’s much more that could be (and has been) written about Rashomon — I’ve not even touched on the intricacies of the plot, the presentation of the courthouse scenes, the significance of the fights, and so on. Certain viewers might be put off by the subtitles, the black and white photography, the film’s age, and its occasional ‘arthouse’-ness — and, I confess, I’m one of the first people to get fed up with films like Tati’s Play Time or Ozu’s Tokyo Story — but, for me, Rashomon was an incredibly enjoyable first encounter with Kurosawa.

Rashomon placed 5th on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2008, which can be read in full here.

Double Indemnity (1944)

Posted on April 23, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #20
Billy Wilder | 108 mins | download | PG

This review could be seen to contain some spoilers.

Double Indemnity is perhaps the archetypal film noir — unsurprising, really, when you have Raymond Chandler co-adapting a novel by James M. Cain. Present and correct are the femme fatale, dry-witted lead man, voice-over narration, shadowy photography, murder, cover-ups, investigations, twists… The difference to films such as The Big Sleep is that the hero is the villain: our narrator, insurance salesman Walter Neff, conspires with Phyllis Dietrichson to murder her wealthy husband for the payout from an accident insurance policy — the double indemnity clause of the title. Neff even has the perfect plan… but, perhaps, too perfect…

Once again I’m viewing this in the context of its source novel (see previous such reviews), and it makes for a very faithful retelling of Cain’s novel. Some of the subplots are sadly lost, not only for time but probably for reasons of taste (Wilder struggled to get the film made in the first place, as the ostensible heroes are both murders and adulterers), some of the names are changed (maybe there was something objectionable about “Huff” and “Nirdlinger”?), and the ending is modified, perhaps with an eye to partially redeeming Neff. In some ways the film’s variant finale is more in keeping, especially for the character of Keyes, but I expect the merits of both versions could be debated. Chandler’s influence as screenwriter is clear in the dialogue. Many lines and exchanges ring with his unmistakable style, which is generally much wittier than that found in the novel.

The real feat of Double Indemnity The Film is that none of these changes jar too much, leaving us with that rare thing: a film that changes the original, but leaves both as excellent pieces of work.

Beowulf: Director’s Cut (2007)

Posted on April 19, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #19
Robert Zemeckis | 110 mins | DVD | 12

Back to catching up on last year’s films that I missed, this time with Beowulf in its Director’s Cut form — which, much to my amusement at the time, prominently featured a BBFC 18 icon on its initial cover art but only received a 12 when classified. Clearly the BBFC didn’t feel the “bolder, never-before-seen images” were any more unsuitable for kiddies than the originals. Personally, I’m not so sure. This version of the film is bloody violent (literally); more so than Lord of the Rings, which is the comparison the BBFC make. I’m not a parent and I’m not pro-censorship (far from it), but this feels more like a 15 to me.

Anyway, that’s not the point. What of the film itself? Well, let’s stick with the violence for a moment. It’s bloody and brutal… and completely undermined by the quality of the animation. I like animated films; I have absolutely no problem with animated films for adults; but the issue here is that most of the characters (especially the ‘extras’) seem of about the same quality as humans in Shrek. So while the battle scenes are often very violent, it becomes hard to take them seriously because it’s all too cartoony. Perhaps this is where classifying became problematic. But it’s not just the violence — the animation is awkward throughout. It’s not lifelike enough to be confused with reality, but not ‘animated’ enough to accept on that level. The characters move stiffly, are mostly too smooth (things do improve with aged characters in the final act), and are ‘dead behind the eyes’. The creatures are largely less realistic CGI than you’d see in a live action film. There are even times when things aren’t far above the graphics from a high-end computer game.

It’s not all bad. Anthony Hopkins is entertaining (and sounding more Welsh than ever), and I enjoyed Alan Silvestri’s score. The screenplay plays fast and loose with the original poem, but Gaiman and Avery have justified this and it’s mostly pretty good. While the third act initially slows the film’s pace to a crawl, the tiredness of an older Beowulf and an exciting duel with a dragon make it the best bit, despite the occasional lack of internal logic (why doesn’t the dragon’s fire burn his heart?) It goes someway to making up for the Beowulf-Grendel battle earlier on. In a rare attempt at genuine faithfulness, Beowulf strips naked for the fight so as to be on equal terms with Grendel. Understandably, the filmmakers don’t want his CGI manhood flying around, so he’s always shot with something helpfully blocking his groin. Problem is, the lengths and tricks involved in achieving this are too reminiscent of similar bits in Austin Powers, turning what should be a big heroic action sequence into a comedic exercise (though, it must be said, not an especially amusing one).

I wanted to like Beowulf. All those people on IMDb who whined that it was animated and you couldn’t do an animated action movie for adults annoyed me something rotten, and I really wanted them to be proved wrong. Plus I like many of Zemeckis’ other films, I like the poem, and there’s a lot of potential for a good adaptation. But the weak CGI, sometimes leaden dialogue (I forgot to mention the 300-wannabe “I am Beowulf” and comedically repetitive “I’ve come to kill your monster”), and uncertain level of violence all get in the way. For the majority of its running time, Beowulf left me with a sadly inescapable feeling of disappointment.

There seem to be a couple of conflicting reports on how different the two cuts are. A comparison lists 90 seconds of new material, but shows the running times to be four-and-a-half minutes different (without credits). On the other hand, the BBFC list the director’s cut as being just 30 seconds longer. However much is completely new, there’s definitely added blood in existing scenes and some shots have been replaced with more graphic versions.

Troy: Director’s Cut (2004/2007)

Posted on April 16, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #18
Wolfgang Petersen | 188 mins | DVD | 15 / R

A lot of people didn’t like Wolfgang Petersen’s big budget version of The Iliad. I can’t remember the specific criticisms any more, other than that some friends who’d read the poem found this to be simply laughable. Personally, I quite enjoyed it — it may not be classic art like its source, but the theatrical cut of Troy was a more than passable example of swords-and-sandals entertainment. If not an epic, despite its running time, it was quite fun.

This director’s cut adds almost half an hour of new material, which is about a 15% increase in length — enough to justify a new number here, I feel. That said, I can’t spot most of what’s new, undoubtedly because the last time I saw Troy was in the cinema almost four years ago. Rose Byrne’s character seems to get more screen time, which in turn helps flesh out Achilles; and, based on what it says in IMDb’s trivia section, Trevor Eve’s role has also increased. He’s still a minor character, but as an advisor to King Priam the reinstating of his scenes means there’s more politics on screen. And I believe there’s some extra nudity too — quite why that couldn’t be in the R-rated theatrical cut is beyond me, but there you have it.

What this reveals is that, on the whole, Troy hasn’t changed much. If you know it well enough to spot the differences then you surely already like it, in which case I expect you’ll like this cut too. Despite the length and additions (which, in some extended cuts, can throw things out of kilter) it feels well paced, taking time to build character and plot in between the action sequences. Some of the characters have (relatively speaking) complex motives and actions — I expect we have Homer to thank for that — while several of the action scenes are fairly impressive — due more to the Hollywood production team.

If you didn’t like Troy first time round, I doubt you’ll be swayed now. Some of the script is very clunky, dragging the performances down with it, and if you didn’t like its level of faithfulness then that hasn’t improved either. Mind you, compared to the 1997 TV version of The Odyssey, which opens with a twenty minute version of this tale, Troy seems like high art.

This score is one higher than I gave the theatrical cut (not reviewed here). I’d attribute this more to generosity and lowered expectations than the added material.

UPDATE (7/7/2014)

I recently re-watched the theatrical version on TV by ‘accident’, and was considerably underwhelmed — though, as noted above, I rated that one lower before, so technically nothing’s changed. Anyway, a few of my thoughts from that re-watch can be read here.

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