Wednesday, 9 March 2011
Ironclad - movie review
Last week I happened to be talking about my beseiged-in-a-fortress fantasies. So that day I got mail from Chris:
Go see Ironclad, Janine. Kate Mara trapped inside a castle with 230 highly trained men and a horde of barbarians outside. Well, ok, not 230, more like 23, but hey, one of them is James Purefoy looking all rough and bearded. Plus there's a giant scandinavian with his shirt off in the horde outside.
Which was enough for me.
Ironclad is a medieval movie about the siege of Rochester Castle by the dastardly Prince John. It actually covers an awful lot of the same ground as the recent version of Robin Hood with Russell Crowe, only on a tiny fraction of the budget and with the significant difference that Ironclad is not shit.
Leave your authenticity hat at home, forgive it the ropey CGI in the distance shots, and it is a tough, engaging fight movie. Good versus evil. Might versus courage. Forbidden desire. A bunch of favourite middle-aged British thesps in costume. All those things I approve of. And James Purefoy in the lead role. I approve of him too.
But be aware that it is really violent. I was frankly aghast that it got away with a "15" certificate: I have a nasty feeling we are drifting into American standards of censorship. Tongues and limbs get severed and in the battle scenes people get hacked up like so much meat. Realistic, maybe. I couldn't have coped at 15, that's all I'm saying.
Of course, the big problem with it fulfilling my fantasies is that the weather is bloody awful. Man, it never stops raining in the Middle Ages. Give me deserts! Give me sun-bronzed warriors!
Damn, I'll just have to write my own besieged-in-a-desert-fortress-by-barbarians fantasy. Oh look: I did. Several years ago. And you can buy it here. Or here. Sunshine (and sweat, and sex) guaranteed.