Good
movies show you, they don't tell you.
If a narrator has to ramble on with background and descriptions -- and
then wraps up the film by telling you why it all matters and how you're
supposed to feel, well, then that movie is flawed.
Oliver Stone's epic "Alexander" is flawed. Despite several
sequences of awesome visual imagination and excitement, Stone still needs
Anthony Hopkins to explain everything about the legendary warrior king
of the ancient world.
Hopkins plays Ptolemy, who fought alongside Alexander the Great as a
young man. As the film opens, he's an aged fellow in Egypt, dictating
a memoir about Alexander. He explains the lad's roots, his motives for
conquest, and his other considerable achievements, while pointing at maps
and ancient illustrations.
We are then shown flashback scenes from Alexander's life -- the young
Macedonian prince being taught by Aristotle (Christopher Plummer), his
love-hate relationships with his complex and often-warring parents, the
roughhew King Philip (Val Kilmer) and the seductive and manipulative Olympias
(Angelina Jolie), Alexander's rise to the throne (now played as a young
adult by Colin Farrell), a few key battles on his seven-year march through
Persia and points further east, his bisexual love affairs, his marriage
to the exotic Roxane (Rosario Dawson) and more, spread out over nearly
three hours.
However, instead of flowing one into the other, the scenes from Alexander's
extraordinary 33 years of life too often come at the filmgoer like turned
pages from Ptolemy's book. They're more like tableaus than parts of a
cohesive narrative.
And although most segments are shown in consecutive order, Stone and
his co-writers have inexplicably chosen to put the death of Philip out
of sequence -- saving his assassination (and the corresponding crowning
of Alexander) for near the end.
Stone and his co-writers seem challenged to explain Alexander's motivations
for his seven-year eastward odyssey of bloody warfare; pointing to a variety
of factors from an aggressively determined mother who wanted her son to
be a god to a gruff father who wanted him to be a man to a philosophical
teacher who wanted him to civilize the world.
Farrell makes a valiant effort as Alexander, but it's a little hard to
get over the dark actor's blond hair. Much more disturbing is the film's
lackadaisical approach to accents. Stone called in all sorts of ancient
authorities to make sure clothing and customs and warfare are all historically
accurate. Then he lets each actor speak with whatever accent he or she
chooses. It makes no sense.
Farrell, who can do a fine flat English accent, speaks in his native
Irish brogue; Jolie assumes some sort of Germanic accent; an unknown actor
emerges from the soldiers to make a key speech in a Scottish tone.
Granted, we don't expect them to speak an ancient tongue (unless they're
in a Mel Gibson movie), but the English should all be consistent.
"Alexander" reportedly cost $150 million to make -- and it's
all on the screen in spectacular set pieces, particularly the lush and
lavish hanging gardens of Babylon. The spectacle of "Alexander"
is undeniable. But so are the film's failings.