Lost Classic – John Boorman’s Excalibur (1981)

When it came out in 1981, John Boorman’s Excalibur received iffy reviews. But, since then, his retelling of Arthur’s myth has amassed a loyal following. In some critical circles it is now recognised as the greatest cinematic rendition of Britain’s ultimate saga.

Boorman’s aim was to provide a definitive depiction of the major characters and events associated with the Arthurian cycle. He wanted to distil the different versions of Arthur’s life and to incorporate the many disparate subplots and strands concerned with his fabled knights. By doing so, Boorman turned a set of stories into a single tale adaptable for film.

The New Yorker film critic Pauline Krael called the dialogue “near atrocious” but, much like Star Wars, it is an eminently quotable movie which indelibly impresses itself onto the viewer’s memory. If proof is needed of this, the four friends I saw it with have been quoting it incessantly since we watched it last week. This might be in part due to the actors’ peculiar accents and cadences, but what higher compliment is there to a writer than to be regularly recited days later?

This is not to say Boorman deserves all the credit. He was also lucky to lead a cast of theatrical giants. At the time of filming, many of those performers were not yet famous but they still possessed the appeal and presence we celebrate today. Patrick Stewart, Ciarian Hinds, Gabriel Byrne and Liam Neeson were each destined to become household names and Boorman decidedly benefitted from their obscurity by having their major talent make minor contributions.

The main roles were also filled impressively. Nicol Williamson’s Merlin is an always arresting and often absurd old soothsayer, Nicholas Clay plays the honest and handsome Lancelot with a rare heroic energy and Helen Mirren imagines Morgana as a Lady Macbeth, who instead of asking scheming spirits to “unsex” her, uses her sensual powers to devastate her enemies.

It is, however, the 35-year-old Nigel Terry (Arthur) who deserves the highest acclaim. His development from a drooling squire to a world-weary warlord is plausible, and the strange and awkward accent of his youth convincingly matures into the magisterial voice of a mythical monarch. Terry’s Arthur, unlike others, is aware of his own symbolism. He understands his actions are worthy of emulation and so he fights to inspire, saying near the end “I must ride with my knights to defend what was, and the dream of what could be.”

There are definitely problems and there is no denying that Roger Ebert was right to call it “a mess”. The film races through; Arthur’s origins, the death of his father, his evolution, Lancelot’s treacherous romance with Guinevere, Arthur’s incestuous procreation with Morgana, Merlin’s disappearance, Sir Perceval’s quest for the Holy Grail, Arthur’s redemption, and, most dramatically, Arthur’s death at the hands of his bastard son, Mordred. That is a lot to rush through.

Yet, in 140 minutes Boorman somehow ensures complete immersion. The enchantingly cartoonish costumes keep the lazy eye engaged. The aggressively choreographed action scenes inevitably arouse a cheap interest. But it is music that makes this film as much as any performance. Trevor Jones’ use of Wagner’s leitmotifs fosters a romantic fascination which enlivens the imagination. The combination of iridescent armour, ethereal melodies and expert performances was as captivating an experience as a reading of the original literature.

Excalibur elegantly modernises an ancient myth and beautifully immerses the audience into a time no historian can find, a time we all feel an affinity for, a time we know but will never see, a time of King Arthur, when in the words of Merlin, “death was but a dream.”