The Big Whatsit

Trawling the sales the other day, I picked up the two-disc special collector’s ultimate, etc, edition of Conan the Barbarian for under three quid. I haven’t seen the movie since I was a child, and yes back then it was probably via the dubious charms of a Betamax top-loader.

What I remember about it is vague, and in fragments. I can certainly recall mine father moaning about ‘stretching the boundaries of fantasy’ when James Earl Jones turns into a snake, and the bit where a young Conan is forced to spend his days pushing a giant wheel, until the years pass, the boy has become an adult and he’s worn a groove into the ground beneath him. The reason for not watching it since then probably has less to do with the movie itself than the succession of cheaply made bobbins that followed, or came out at around the same time. The Beastmaster… Krull… The Sword and the flipping Sorceror… Some critics might have it that there’s a certain charm to these flicks. I think they’re generally awful, and that goes for the rather perfunctory sequel to ‘the Barbarian’ and Red Sonja, which inflicted 90 minutes of Brigitte Nielsen onto  an unsuspecting world.

However, the original Conan film, now celebrating its 25th year of existence, deserves to be elevated above the detritus. I enjoyed seeing it again, though the plot is rather silly and incredibly a fresh-faced Arnold Schwarzenegger is by no means the worst actor on display. Sure, the effects might have dated a little, but these aren’t as appalling as you might imagine, thanks partly to a large budget, and also because the use of pre-CGI animation is kept to a grateful minimum. In general, John Milius and his team get Conan about right, feed him just enough story to keep the focus squarely on his bare torsoed fighting ability, and place him in a setting that genuinely evokes an ancient and lost civilisation.

The first obvious reason for the film’s success is the hulking presence of its star. In his first major Hollywood role, Schwarzenegger was still largely unknown outside bodybuilding circles and looks perfect as the massive Conan. By all accounts, he told the director that he had no interest in adding to the part, and was happy to be told what to do at all times, leading to a character free of idiosyncrasy and a star’s vanity. Conan doesn’t say much. Nor does he have to – the sword does his speaking for him – as the big man is surrounded by some venerable voice actors. What matters is his highly developed physique. I can’t think of a better instance of casting for Schwarzenegger, apart from when he took the part of the Terminator. He’s made for Conan, and it’s not surprise that in physical representations since, the barbarian has been copied loosely from the Austrian’s example.

In 1982, everyone knew James Earl Jones best for providing the solemn tones of one Lord Darth Vader. Yet Jones – here saddled with one of the more ridiculous hairstyles seen in moviedom – is equalled by Mako, who adds to his performance as a cheap magician with the role of narrator. Given the job of introducing the legend of Conan and wrapping up his adventure, Mako’s larger than life voice work is spot on. As for Darth, he has both the build and the vocals to fit the character of Thulsa Doom, the film’s main baddie. When addressing a crowd of followers, he’s impressive enough to provide a commanding presence, and even has two vicious henchmen to do his dirty work.

The script for Conan doesn’t contain welters of dialogue, and it’s music that fills the gaps. Basil Poledouris provides a score that is both epic in tone, and evokes a world lost to the passage of time. Heavy on horns and drums, the music is belted out, and helps to give the film its mythical tone. Also worthy of note is the gorgeous choreography, thoughtful costumes and the majority of the design work, which gives everything a sense of location. The village of Conan’s childhood looks every inch a peasants’ hamlet, all thatched roofs huddled against the snow. The ancient throne room into which your man falls looks amazing, the skeleton king adorned in finery that has long since fallen to decay and cobwebs. Our hero’s last stand, which takes place in a ruined temple of standing stones, is just like the sort of long abandoned sacred place you might find on the island of Gozo, whilst the lair of Thulsa Doom has a distinct Eastern influence.

All of which said, it isn’t brilliant, and you can see why the fantasy genre went into decline until Peter Jackson showed an interest in Tolkein. For a start, the acting is uniformly horrible. This doesn’t matter so much in the case of Arnie, who doesn’t have to do a great deal other than appear impressive when swinging a broadsword. His love interest, played by Sandahl Bergman, might look the part, but has to provide the acting muscle and doesn’t measure up. The same goes for Gerry Lopez, who seems to hide every facial expression under his Scouse moustache. As a story, Conan moves ponderously. Sometimes, when the camera is admiring the wild vistas or lingering over the barbarian’s chiselled pectorals, you can almost forgive it for liking what it sees. But this happens far too often, slows down the action and demonstrates there probably isn’t enough narrative to sustain the running time. Perhaps it’s all down to the script, written in part by Oliver Stone. Not known for his sense of jolly humour, Stone’s screenplay takes its subject a little too seriously, almost reverentially in fact, giving us a silly scenario that is played absolutely straight. There are moments of fun, such as the infamous camel punching sequence (the camel goes down obligingly), but these are few and far between. Even Mako’s character – intended to be the comic relief – isn’t all that funny, and let’s be honest watching a movie like Conan that doesn’t know how to laugh at itself is always going to be a bit of a trawl.

But somehow, these problems can be overlooked as the film’s visual virtuosity shines through. At its heart is an actor who would in time become one of Hollywood’s biggest players. Watching him as Conan, it isn’t easy to see Schwarzenegger turning out to be so huge over the following two decades, but his natural charisma and the ability to look good in naught but fur-lined underpants is clear enough.