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arysteiaA truth, perhaps not universally acknowledged, but well known to me, is that films I initially hate with the passion of a thousand supernovas improve on second viewing. And so it was with Troy. Here, then, is my time delayed, more sanguine review. I focus on themes and characterisation, but there will be some spoilers.
Overall, as a spectacle, the film succeeds magnificently. The pitched battles are breath taking, the duels, as they should be, heart breaking. If I’d known less about the source material I think I might have enjoyed it more, but my complaints are not, I believe, the wholly petty nit-picking of an Iliad purist scorned. Rather, I’m instinctually and sub-consciously aware of Troy as the centrepiece of a vast agglomeration of myth, legend, epic and tragedy. It’s the nexus for a whole cultural ideal. In that sense, I’m willing to compromise on plot, but I feel more anguished at major changes in character portrayal. I think I’m in good company – the Greeks themselves never blushed at tragedians changing the plot for effect, but they hated it when they changed the characters, see for example Orestes by Euripides, which was excoriated by Aristotle for making noble characters behave badly.
The Acting
For the most part the actors put in creditable performances. The mishmash of accents was not entirely successful, but in general my criticism is reserved for the way the characters were written and directed, rather than the way the actors played them.
Brad Pitt buffed up beautifully, and his (or his stunt double’s?) magnificent athleticism gave a very strong sense of Achilles as the consummate warrior. The sheer physicality of the young demigod was not in doubt, and the grace and power he brought to his almost balletic fight scenes was convincing. His physical beauty conformed to expectation, and the oft-bared body was appreciated by the bulk of the audience, myself no exception. Close-ups on his face, however, did make me think for the first time that he’s showing his age. Achilles was considerably younger. His accent was a little strange, but by and large stayed within the range of tweaked British schoolboy English deemed de rigueur for American actors in historical productions. The odd incredibly posed profile-stare into space was ridiculous, but I’m prepared to blame it on the director rather than the actor.
Eric Bana was wonderful as Hector, helped no doubt by the way the part was written – his was the only character that made me sigh, and think yes, that’s exactly as I’ve always imagined him. His Australian vowels were largely submerged, and his physical appearance, particularly his filial resemblance to Orlando Bloom, worked well. I particularly liked the look of despair on his face when he realised that his strategic advice, as a fighting general, was being ignored in favour of omens and portents from the old men and priests.
Orlando Bloom played Paris well – in many ways it was a thankless part, and comparisons with another fine boned archer are, I think, unfair. The fact is, Paris *was* beautiful, slight, and a bowman rather than an infantryman. He got some bad lines, but don’t shoot the messenger. His slightly feminine look conformed perfectly to my conception of the effete Trojan princeling, and his strong resemblance to Eric Bana helped sell the relationship between the brothers powerfully. Seeing Paris cower at Hector’s feet was one of my favourite scenes, and one I could entirely believe.
Sean Bean as Odysseus was a delight as always, stealing the show in a minor part. He conveyed more with a look and a stroke of his chin than other actors with full-on histrionics.
Peter O’Toole put in a masterful performance as the aged Priam. A great king, a proud father, but above all an old man. The ransom scene when he came to beg for Hector’s body was the emotional highpoint of the film.
Diane Kruger is about as good an actress as most models, ie not very, and further handicapped by her limited grasp of English. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I guess, but I also found it odd that the face that launched a thousand ships was less attractive than that of her sister-in-law, or indeed her paramour.
Rose Byrne put in an adequate performance as Briseis, but one poisoned for me by her doe eyes and the passionate hatred I bore her (largely fictitious) character and the role she played in the drama.
Singled out for dishonourable mention:
Garrett Hedlund managed to pull off the worst Patroklos I can currently imagine. If another actor could do worse, I don’t want to see it. Admittedly he wasn’t given much to work with – the part was horribly underwritten and undersold, and by virtue of his demotion from friend and lieutenant to protege instantly rendered prone to adolescent whining, but in this one case I found the acting equally to blame. Four people in my row at the multiplex (two were with me, admittedly, but two were strangers) shrieked out “What a simpering ninny!” or words to that effect the first time they heard him speak. His accent was so appalling and nigh on unintelligible that I asked my neighbour if he, like Diane Kruger, was German. I then felt somewhat chastened when informed he was from the mid-west United States.
The Plot
The actual story told was the least of my complaints. I’m really not so passionately overcommitted to every detail of the Iliad that I died inside every time artistic licence was taken with the story. A film is not an epic poem, a multiplex isn’t the king’s megaron, and a mass audience isn’t a classics seminar. People died who should have lived, so be it. The plot demanded it. Menelaus didn’t deserve it, but it was a great scene, one of my favourites. Agamemnon did deserve it, and it was a nice foreshadowing of his real fate at the hands of his wife Klytaimnestra. Ajax, meh, enough said. People lived who should have died. Astyanax, thank goodness. I don’t think I could have stood to see the baby thrown from the ramparts, even if he did have an abnormally large head. Paris... Now this did annoy me. It was too much like twu wuv rewarded, and the prospect of him and Helen living happily ever after made me nauseous.
The Redeeming Power of Heterosexual Love
I believe it was Pseudy who came up with the brilliant one line moral of this film: heterosexual love kills. If only it were so. Sadly, it also gave Achilles his one moment of “peace”, and allowed Paris and Helen to flee burning Troy and live happily ever after. I knew that this was not, by any freak chance, going to be a film that celebrated homoerotic bonds, but I wasn’t expecting to be quite as sledge hammered by the *redemptive* side of the love of a good woman either. My commerce graduate friend, who’s never read the Iliad, isn’t into slash or fandom of any sort, and has no axe to grind, commented, “They really went all out to remind us everyone was straight, didn’t they?”
My complaint is not that homoerotic content was lacking, I guess it was still there as subtext if you chose to look for it. Some viewers found the introductory mock-battle between Achilles and Patroklos intensely so. I didn’t, but fair call if you did. I resent, rather, that in the writer’s/director’s care to avoid the implication that anyone was less than straight, the heart was removed from many *non-sexual* male relationships. It was the evisceration of Achilles’ and Patroklos’ *friendship* that bothered me, not the absence of any implication of a deeper relationship between the two. I knew we weren’t going to get it, wasn’t disappointed, and didn’t miss it. What I missed, bitterly, was the unbreakable bond between a soldier and his comrade, best friend, and brother-in-arms.
This was true not just for Achilles and Patroklos, though I felt its loss most keenly there, but for all the soldiers and kings. Diomedes and Sthenelos were missing in action, ditto Sarpedon and Glaukos. Ajax was missing his little brother Teucer who he used to shelter under his shield. All the legendary friendships were gone, and the film lacked heart because of it. War is hell, but you get by with a little help from your friends. I concede the point that you couldn’t reasonably fit them all into an already long film, but that just it makes it more important that you show *one* strong relationship as indicative of the whole.
Instead, all emotional bonds in the film were *by* men *for* women. We had woman as status symbol/chattel (Helen and Menelaus), woman as grand romantic ideal (Helen and Paris), woman as wife (Andromache and Hector), woman as mother (Thetis and Achilles), woman as lust object/victim (Briseis and Agamemnon; Briseis and the soldiers), woman as inspirer of gentler, kinder feelings (Briseis and Achilles) and finally woman as redeemer (again, Briseis and Achilles). It’s the last two that drove me to despair – precisely because it’s Patroklos who inspires the kinder, gentler side of Achilles (whether or not you believe them to be lovers), and Achilles is redeemed by his own realisation that he’s as mortal as Hector and will suffer the same fate. In each case it’s another man – a friend, an enemy – who bring it about.
Set Design/Costumes
Overall, I loved the look of the film. The classicist in me was bemused by the Minoan feel of Troy, when that civilisation had fallen to the Mycenaeans centuries before, but the tree trunk pillars and elaborate palace complex looked so good I decided to let it go. I loved the fact the set designers used archaic rather than classical sculpture to symbolise the gods in the temples – entirely appropriate – though I thought the constant reference to Apollo as the Sun God was a little weird, even a touch Egyptian. The sun was added to his portfolio (filched from Helios) comparatively late in the game, and at this time his responsibility was very much that of prophecy. In fact, he’s referred to most often in the Iliad as the Mouse God, a reference to his ability to send plague (a nice touch was the plague reference in the abandoned Greek camp at the end of the film). My aunt commented that she thought the Spartan court looked oddly Saxon with the wassailing lords, whereas my eye had been caught by the Arabesque dancing girls. Still.
A girlfriend from varsity days sent me a caustic email complaining about the Trojans’ tie-dyed outfits, but I thought they were beautiful. I’ve heard numerous queries from all corners about the skirts and midriff tops worn by Achilles and others – my guess is that they’re Minoan too, based on the costume worn by the Priest King in the fresco of the same name at Knossos. Accurate stylistically, if not chronologically.
Lastly, there was a very strange combination of Homeric figure-eight shields, classical round hoplite shields, and rectangular Roman ones. And there really shouldn't have been standards and standard bearers in the Greek army. Ah, so be it. The battle scenes were exciting enough that I’ll let it pass.
The Passage of Time
My other major complaint would have to be the passage of time, or lack thereof. The “greatest war the world has ever known” was over in two weeks? Twelve days of which was taken up by Hector’s funeral? I think not. After all the build-up, the *war* seemed so anti-climactic. This, more than anything, deprived the story of its epic quality. Troy was a siege. The Trojans suffered years of misery and deprivation – imagine the claustrophobia of being forever imprisoned within your walls. It was also a war of attrition – a constant daily grind for the Greeks, far from their homes and families. Exhaustion and despair were rife in both camps by war’s end. It was for this reason, and acknowledging that without Achilles Troy could never be taken by force, that the wooden horse was conceived. A final end to an agonising stalemate.
Again, the constraints of film make this difficult, but one of my friends suggested that it would have been better to start at the end of the war, and tell the tale of Helen and Paris via flashback. I'm not enamoured of the flashback as a rule, but I think in this case the use might have been warranted.
Characterisation
Like their ashes, buried in one urn, and their souls, stalking the Isles of the Blest together for all eternity, it's impossible to separate out Achilles and Patroklos when considering character portrayal in this film. Patroklos' near vanishing act from the story had me writhing in my seat, not just because he's always been my favourite character, but also because it robbed Achilles of his primary motivation. The Iliad is, above all, the tale of Achilles' rage, and even viewing this film as a separate entity, I found it very hard to understand Achilles without it. Or should I say, without grounds for it. Because the rage was there (in somewhat neutered form), we all saw it. He declined Hector's plea for mercy, and dragged him behind his chariot. But why? Watching the final duel between the two great champions, I'd actually forgotten (amazing myself) the dragging was to follow. When he lashed Hector's feet to the axle, I actually thought, "Oh God, they're putting this in". Because I hadn't felt Achilles' grief, which was so intense as to drive Antilochos (the bearer of bad tidings) to hold his hands, lest he try to kill himself. I'd seen it, but I hadn't *felt* it. This whole section of the film was entirely lacking in heart. At no moment did I feel, as I wanted to, that the world had just ended.
Hector dies, not because he killed a boy, but because he killed the only thing apart from fighting which made Achilles' life worth living. Patroklos dies, not because he's a pouty, indulged *boy*, eager for battles and glory, but because he's the softer, gentler side of the warrior. The softer, gentler side of Achilles himself. The feelings he brings out in Achilles are exactly those that he himself represents. He wants to protect people, and he can't stand to watch the Greeks die. He goes to the battle to save his friends, and Achilles *lets* him go because he can't deny him. It's guilt as well as grief at work after that. And rage over a friend easily trumps rage over a slight.
Making Patroklos a boy, and a whiny one at that, was a disservice to the character, and to the concept of the fighting man itself. In a sea of heroes, Patroklos represents the *pity* of war. Himself a warrior, and a great one, though not so great as his friend, he is the hero who can be moved to tears at the sight of his friends dying, the one who will not be ashamed, even when Achilles rebukes him for it.
Achilles himself was problematic for me. I disliked him intensely on first viewing, warmed to him on second. My initial perception, however, lingered, namely that he was soulless and violent, unmotivated in his rage, selfish, self absorbed, in short, not particularly heroic. The Homeric perception of the hero is very different to our own, and does revolve to a large extent around personal ego, but he still has ties to the community. Achilles is rebuked in the Iliad specifically for failing to fulfil his obligations to his dependants. His anger at his own slighted honour is fair and right, but can only be nursed for so long.
Achilles is, of course, a prince himself, and I cannot understand why the writers chose to portray him as a mercenary. Less than a god, but more than a man, Achilles is separated from other men by more than his prowess on the battlefield. That sense of alienation is key; Achilles did, after all, utter the wish that all the Greeks might die so he and Patroklos could sack Troy alone. He was never less than honourable, however, and would have scorned to enter Troy by a trick. Of all the plot changes, this was most egregious – that Achilles was in the wooden horse. The only reason a stratagem was required was because Achilles was dead, and force would no longer be enough. I bow to commercial reality, and accept that Achilles had to survive to the final scene, but a happier compromise would have been to have him lead the detachment which entered the city on foot after the gates were opened, leaving the horse to Odysseus. This is, after all, the man who said "I hate him as I hate the gates of hell, that man who says one thing while holding in his heart another". I'd already abandoned hope, however, when he fought the Thessalian champion in the opening scene. Achilles was *from* Thessaly, and would never have fought for Agamemnon against his own people. A tiny point, but one which showed such poor research skills, or concern for detail, on the part of the writers.
Largely because of this, my sympathy was entirely with Hector. The closest I came to pitying Achilles was when he wept over Hector's corpse, acknowledging their brotherhood, but Hector made my heart bleed the whole time. It was interesting that he said to Achilles, "I gave the boy the honour of a proper burial" when he specifically didn't, fighting to keep the body and despoil it as Achilles would his own, but I was so enamoured of him by then that I didn't mind. Likewise, his genuine love and concern for Paris, while somewhat at odds with his Homeric anger at him for causing the war and the wish, expressed, that the Trojans might have stoned him, was completely realistic and believable within the confines of the film, and so much more consistent with his general character, considered holistically.
I liked and empathised with Odysseus more than I’ve been able to in years (at least since reading Philoktetes) – a wise man, a minor king, bowing to political reality but wanting to do what was best for his men. Interestingly, he was the only character who ever spoke about doing what was best for Greece.
Agamemnon was magnificent, within the confines of the part as written. He'd lost the traces of humility and good nature which redeem him in the Iliad, but for all that was convincing in his arrogance, his greed, his lust and his casual cruelty.
Menelaus was convincing too. Not exactly as I have imagined him, but believable as a man wounded more in his pride than his heart, struggling to reconcile his personal need for vengeance with his brother’s ambition.
Priam was a tour de force, a once great king and warrior, old now above all. Set in his ways, reliving past glories, unwilling to sacrifice his younger son to avert a war, instead he sacrifices his elder son in a vain attempt to win it. Pity him, in the final scenes, a broken man watching the destruction of his family, his home, his whole country, all that he has worked for and achieved. Admire him, in the ransom scene, when he dares to enter the Greek camp by night to ransom Hector. Stand in awe of him, when he kisses the hands that killed his son. This scene is pure Homer, brilliantly written, brilliantly acted.
Briseis, on the other hand, was a nightmarish amalgam of female characters from the poem and surrounding myth. The eponymous Briseis when causing the rift between Achilles and Agamemnon, Chryseis the priestess of Apollo, Cassandra dragged from the temple and abused by the men, Klytaimnestra when killing Agamemnon.
Allusions
Lastly, I loved what I thought were allusions to other scenes from the poem, or to other sections of the epic cycle. A friend told me over dinner that I was giving the scriptwriters too much credit, and maybe so, but a happy chance is still pleasing. The reference to plague at the end was a harking back to the outbreak of plague, symbolising Apollo's wrath, which starts the whole action of the poem. Achilles' desecration of Apollo's temple, which would otherwise have been one more black mark against his character, reminded me of the variant of Troilos. The youngest brother of Hector and Paris, (non-Homeric) prophecy foretold that Troy would never fall if he lived to see his twentieth birthday. Time was of the essence, therefore, and Achilles did what he had to do, when he got the chance. Which was, unfortunately, in the precinct of Apollo's temple.
Likewise, the death of Achilles while rescuing Briseis brought strongly to mind the variant where Achilles fell in love with Hector's sister Polyxena, and was killed by Paris while speaking to her. I'm not a great fan of this story, which is a late addition, but I do like the way they meet. Agreeing to ransom Hector for his weight in gold, Priam finds the reserves of Troy depleted by the war and unequal to the task. The women of Troy do their part, throwing their jewellery into the scales, and Polyxena leans over the wall to do the same. Her eyes lock with Achilles', who in romantic fashion takes her bracelet and declines the rest of the treasure. This connection I did like, unlike her other character accretions.
And finally, the quotes. Calling Agamemnon a sack of wine fell rather flat, but my inner fangirl squee-ed when Agamemnon said to Achilles, "Of all the warlords the gods love, I hate you the most". One of my all time favourite lines.
Taken as a whole then, there's a lot that I like, but also a lot that I don't, and the things that I don't like were so important in the scheme of things that they outweighed much of the good. I've seen it twice, I'll probably see it again, but above all I'm disappointed, because the flashes of brilliance show what might have been.
Overall, as a spectacle, the film succeeds magnificently. The pitched battles are breath taking, the duels, as they should be, heart breaking. If I’d known less about the source material I think I might have enjoyed it more, but my complaints are not, I believe, the wholly petty nit-picking of an Iliad purist scorned. Rather, I’m instinctually and sub-consciously aware of Troy as the centrepiece of a vast agglomeration of myth, legend, epic and tragedy. It’s the nexus for a whole cultural ideal. In that sense, I’m willing to compromise on plot, but I feel more anguished at major changes in character portrayal. I think I’m in good company – the Greeks themselves never blushed at tragedians changing the plot for effect, but they hated it when they changed the characters, see for example Orestes by Euripides, which was excoriated by Aristotle for making noble characters behave badly.
The Acting
For the most part the actors put in creditable performances. The mishmash of accents was not entirely successful, but in general my criticism is reserved for the way the characters were written and directed, rather than the way the actors played them.
Brad Pitt buffed up beautifully, and his (or his stunt double’s?) magnificent athleticism gave a very strong sense of Achilles as the consummate warrior. The sheer physicality of the young demigod was not in doubt, and the grace and power he brought to his almost balletic fight scenes was convincing. His physical beauty conformed to expectation, and the oft-bared body was appreciated by the bulk of the audience, myself no exception. Close-ups on his face, however, did make me think for the first time that he’s showing his age. Achilles was considerably younger. His accent was a little strange, but by and large stayed within the range of tweaked British schoolboy English deemed de rigueur for American actors in historical productions. The odd incredibly posed profile-stare into space was ridiculous, but I’m prepared to blame it on the director rather than the actor.
Eric Bana was wonderful as Hector, helped no doubt by the way the part was written – his was the only character that made me sigh, and think yes, that’s exactly as I’ve always imagined him. His Australian vowels were largely submerged, and his physical appearance, particularly his filial resemblance to Orlando Bloom, worked well. I particularly liked the look of despair on his face when he realised that his strategic advice, as a fighting general, was being ignored in favour of omens and portents from the old men and priests.
Orlando Bloom played Paris well – in many ways it was a thankless part, and comparisons with another fine boned archer are, I think, unfair. The fact is, Paris *was* beautiful, slight, and a bowman rather than an infantryman. He got some bad lines, but don’t shoot the messenger. His slightly feminine look conformed perfectly to my conception of the effete Trojan princeling, and his strong resemblance to Eric Bana helped sell the relationship between the brothers powerfully. Seeing Paris cower at Hector’s feet was one of my favourite scenes, and one I could entirely believe.
Sean Bean as Odysseus was a delight as always, stealing the show in a minor part. He conveyed more with a look and a stroke of his chin than other actors with full-on histrionics.
Peter O’Toole put in a masterful performance as the aged Priam. A great king, a proud father, but above all an old man. The ransom scene when he came to beg for Hector’s body was the emotional highpoint of the film.
Diane Kruger is about as good an actress as most models, ie not very, and further handicapped by her limited grasp of English. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I guess, but I also found it odd that the face that launched a thousand ships was less attractive than that of her sister-in-law, or indeed her paramour.
Rose Byrne put in an adequate performance as Briseis, but one poisoned for me by her doe eyes and the passionate hatred I bore her (largely fictitious) character and the role she played in the drama.
Singled out for dishonourable mention:
Garrett Hedlund managed to pull off the worst Patroklos I can currently imagine. If another actor could do worse, I don’t want to see it. Admittedly he wasn’t given much to work with – the part was horribly underwritten and undersold, and by virtue of his demotion from friend and lieutenant to protege instantly rendered prone to adolescent whining, but in this one case I found the acting equally to blame. Four people in my row at the multiplex (two were with me, admittedly, but two were strangers) shrieked out “What a simpering ninny!” or words to that effect the first time they heard him speak. His accent was so appalling and nigh on unintelligible that I asked my neighbour if he, like Diane Kruger, was German. I then felt somewhat chastened when informed he was from the mid-west United States.
The Plot
The actual story told was the least of my complaints. I’m really not so passionately overcommitted to every detail of the Iliad that I died inside every time artistic licence was taken with the story. A film is not an epic poem, a multiplex isn’t the king’s megaron, and a mass audience isn’t a classics seminar. People died who should have lived, so be it. The plot demanded it. Menelaus didn’t deserve it, but it was a great scene, one of my favourites. Agamemnon did deserve it, and it was a nice foreshadowing of his real fate at the hands of his wife Klytaimnestra. Ajax, meh, enough said. People lived who should have died. Astyanax, thank goodness. I don’t think I could have stood to see the baby thrown from the ramparts, even if he did have an abnormally large head. Paris... Now this did annoy me. It was too much like twu wuv rewarded, and the prospect of him and Helen living happily ever after made me nauseous.
The Redeeming Power of Heterosexual Love
I believe it was Pseudy who came up with the brilliant one line moral of this film: heterosexual love kills. If only it were so. Sadly, it also gave Achilles his one moment of “peace”, and allowed Paris and Helen to flee burning Troy and live happily ever after. I knew that this was not, by any freak chance, going to be a film that celebrated homoerotic bonds, but I wasn’t expecting to be quite as sledge hammered by the *redemptive* side of the love of a good woman either. My commerce graduate friend, who’s never read the Iliad, isn’t into slash or fandom of any sort, and has no axe to grind, commented, “They really went all out to remind us everyone was straight, didn’t they?”
My complaint is not that homoerotic content was lacking, I guess it was still there as subtext if you chose to look for it. Some viewers found the introductory mock-battle between Achilles and Patroklos intensely so. I didn’t, but fair call if you did. I resent, rather, that in the writer’s/director’s care to avoid the implication that anyone was less than straight, the heart was removed from many *non-sexual* male relationships. It was the evisceration of Achilles’ and Patroklos’ *friendship* that bothered me, not the absence of any implication of a deeper relationship between the two. I knew we weren’t going to get it, wasn’t disappointed, and didn’t miss it. What I missed, bitterly, was the unbreakable bond between a soldier and his comrade, best friend, and brother-in-arms.
This was true not just for Achilles and Patroklos, though I felt its loss most keenly there, but for all the soldiers and kings. Diomedes and Sthenelos were missing in action, ditto Sarpedon and Glaukos. Ajax was missing his little brother Teucer who he used to shelter under his shield. All the legendary friendships were gone, and the film lacked heart because of it. War is hell, but you get by with a little help from your friends. I concede the point that you couldn’t reasonably fit them all into an already long film, but that just it makes it more important that you show *one* strong relationship as indicative of the whole.
Instead, all emotional bonds in the film were *by* men *for* women. We had woman as status symbol/chattel (Helen and Menelaus), woman as grand romantic ideal (Helen and Paris), woman as wife (Andromache and Hector), woman as mother (Thetis and Achilles), woman as lust object/victim (Briseis and Agamemnon; Briseis and the soldiers), woman as inspirer of gentler, kinder feelings (Briseis and Achilles) and finally woman as redeemer (again, Briseis and Achilles). It’s the last two that drove me to despair – precisely because it’s Patroklos who inspires the kinder, gentler side of Achilles (whether or not you believe them to be lovers), and Achilles is redeemed by his own realisation that he’s as mortal as Hector and will suffer the same fate. In each case it’s another man – a friend, an enemy – who bring it about.
Set Design/Costumes
Overall, I loved the look of the film. The classicist in me was bemused by the Minoan feel of Troy, when that civilisation had fallen to the Mycenaeans centuries before, but the tree trunk pillars and elaborate palace complex looked so good I decided to let it go. I loved the fact the set designers used archaic rather than classical sculpture to symbolise the gods in the temples – entirely appropriate – though I thought the constant reference to Apollo as the Sun God was a little weird, even a touch Egyptian. The sun was added to his portfolio (filched from Helios) comparatively late in the game, and at this time his responsibility was very much that of prophecy. In fact, he’s referred to most often in the Iliad as the Mouse God, a reference to his ability to send plague (a nice touch was the plague reference in the abandoned Greek camp at the end of the film). My aunt commented that she thought the Spartan court looked oddly Saxon with the wassailing lords, whereas my eye had been caught by the Arabesque dancing girls. Still.
A girlfriend from varsity days sent me a caustic email complaining about the Trojans’ tie-dyed outfits, but I thought they were beautiful. I’ve heard numerous queries from all corners about the skirts and midriff tops worn by Achilles and others – my guess is that they’re Minoan too, based on the costume worn by the Priest King in the fresco of the same name at Knossos. Accurate stylistically, if not chronologically.
Lastly, there was a very strange combination of Homeric figure-eight shields, classical round hoplite shields, and rectangular Roman ones. And there really shouldn't have been standards and standard bearers in the Greek army. Ah, so be it. The battle scenes were exciting enough that I’ll let it pass.
The Passage of Time
My other major complaint would have to be the passage of time, or lack thereof. The “greatest war the world has ever known” was over in two weeks? Twelve days of which was taken up by Hector’s funeral? I think not. After all the build-up, the *war* seemed so anti-climactic. This, more than anything, deprived the story of its epic quality. Troy was a siege. The Trojans suffered years of misery and deprivation – imagine the claustrophobia of being forever imprisoned within your walls. It was also a war of attrition – a constant daily grind for the Greeks, far from their homes and families. Exhaustion and despair were rife in both camps by war’s end. It was for this reason, and acknowledging that without Achilles Troy could never be taken by force, that the wooden horse was conceived. A final end to an agonising stalemate.
Again, the constraints of film make this difficult, but one of my friends suggested that it would have been better to start at the end of the war, and tell the tale of Helen and Paris via flashback. I'm not enamoured of the flashback as a rule, but I think in this case the use might have been warranted.
Characterisation
Like their ashes, buried in one urn, and their souls, stalking the Isles of the Blest together for all eternity, it's impossible to separate out Achilles and Patroklos when considering character portrayal in this film. Patroklos' near vanishing act from the story had me writhing in my seat, not just because he's always been my favourite character, but also because it robbed Achilles of his primary motivation. The Iliad is, above all, the tale of Achilles' rage, and even viewing this film as a separate entity, I found it very hard to understand Achilles without it. Or should I say, without grounds for it. Because the rage was there (in somewhat neutered form), we all saw it. He declined Hector's plea for mercy, and dragged him behind his chariot. But why? Watching the final duel between the two great champions, I'd actually forgotten (amazing myself) the dragging was to follow. When he lashed Hector's feet to the axle, I actually thought, "Oh God, they're putting this in". Because I hadn't felt Achilles' grief, which was so intense as to drive Antilochos (the bearer of bad tidings) to hold his hands, lest he try to kill himself. I'd seen it, but I hadn't *felt* it. This whole section of the film was entirely lacking in heart. At no moment did I feel, as I wanted to, that the world had just ended.
Hector dies, not because he killed a boy, but because he killed the only thing apart from fighting which made Achilles' life worth living. Patroklos dies, not because he's a pouty, indulged *boy*, eager for battles and glory, but because he's the softer, gentler side of the warrior. The softer, gentler side of Achilles himself. The feelings he brings out in Achilles are exactly those that he himself represents. He wants to protect people, and he can't stand to watch the Greeks die. He goes to the battle to save his friends, and Achilles *lets* him go because he can't deny him. It's guilt as well as grief at work after that. And rage over a friend easily trumps rage over a slight.
Making Patroklos a boy, and a whiny one at that, was a disservice to the character, and to the concept of the fighting man itself. In a sea of heroes, Patroklos represents the *pity* of war. Himself a warrior, and a great one, though not so great as his friend, he is the hero who can be moved to tears at the sight of his friends dying, the one who will not be ashamed, even when Achilles rebukes him for it.
Achilles himself was problematic for me. I disliked him intensely on first viewing, warmed to him on second. My initial perception, however, lingered, namely that he was soulless and violent, unmotivated in his rage, selfish, self absorbed, in short, not particularly heroic. The Homeric perception of the hero is very different to our own, and does revolve to a large extent around personal ego, but he still has ties to the community. Achilles is rebuked in the Iliad specifically for failing to fulfil his obligations to his dependants. His anger at his own slighted honour is fair and right, but can only be nursed for so long.
Achilles is, of course, a prince himself, and I cannot understand why the writers chose to portray him as a mercenary. Less than a god, but more than a man, Achilles is separated from other men by more than his prowess on the battlefield. That sense of alienation is key; Achilles did, after all, utter the wish that all the Greeks might die so he and Patroklos could sack Troy alone. He was never less than honourable, however, and would have scorned to enter Troy by a trick. Of all the plot changes, this was most egregious – that Achilles was in the wooden horse. The only reason a stratagem was required was because Achilles was dead, and force would no longer be enough. I bow to commercial reality, and accept that Achilles had to survive to the final scene, but a happier compromise would have been to have him lead the detachment which entered the city on foot after the gates were opened, leaving the horse to Odysseus. This is, after all, the man who said "I hate him as I hate the gates of hell, that man who says one thing while holding in his heart another". I'd already abandoned hope, however, when he fought the Thessalian champion in the opening scene. Achilles was *from* Thessaly, and would never have fought for Agamemnon against his own people. A tiny point, but one which showed such poor research skills, or concern for detail, on the part of the writers.
Largely because of this, my sympathy was entirely with Hector. The closest I came to pitying Achilles was when he wept over Hector's corpse, acknowledging their brotherhood, but Hector made my heart bleed the whole time. It was interesting that he said to Achilles, "I gave the boy the honour of a proper burial" when he specifically didn't, fighting to keep the body and despoil it as Achilles would his own, but I was so enamoured of him by then that I didn't mind. Likewise, his genuine love and concern for Paris, while somewhat at odds with his Homeric anger at him for causing the war and the wish, expressed, that the Trojans might have stoned him, was completely realistic and believable within the confines of the film, and so much more consistent with his general character, considered holistically.
I liked and empathised with Odysseus more than I’ve been able to in years (at least since reading Philoktetes) – a wise man, a minor king, bowing to political reality but wanting to do what was best for his men. Interestingly, he was the only character who ever spoke about doing what was best for Greece.
Agamemnon was magnificent, within the confines of the part as written. He'd lost the traces of humility and good nature which redeem him in the Iliad, but for all that was convincing in his arrogance, his greed, his lust and his casual cruelty.
Menelaus was convincing too. Not exactly as I have imagined him, but believable as a man wounded more in his pride than his heart, struggling to reconcile his personal need for vengeance with his brother’s ambition.
Priam was a tour de force, a once great king and warrior, old now above all. Set in his ways, reliving past glories, unwilling to sacrifice his younger son to avert a war, instead he sacrifices his elder son in a vain attempt to win it. Pity him, in the final scenes, a broken man watching the destruction of his family, his home, his whole country, all that he has worked for and achieved. Admire him, in the ransom scene, when he dares to enter the Greek camp by night to ransom Hector. Stand in awe of him, when he kisses the hands that killed his son. This scene is pure Homer, brilliantly written, brilliantly acted.
Briseis, on the other hand, was a nightmarish amalgam of female characters from the poem and surrounding myth. The eponymous Briseis when causing the rift between Achilles and Agamemnon, Chryseis the priestess of Apollo, Cassandra dragged from the temple and abused by the men, Klytaimnestra when killing Agamemnon.
Allusions
Lastly, I loved what I thought were allusions to other scenes from the poem, or to other sections of the epic cycle. A friend told me over dinner that I was giving the scriptwriters too much credit, and maybe so, but a happy chance is still pleasing. The reference to plague at the end was a harking back to the outbreak of plague, symbolising Apollo's wrath, which starts the whole action of the poem. Achilles' desecration of Apollo's temple, which would otherwise have been one more black mark against his character, reminded me of the variant of Troilos. The youngest brother of Hector and Paris, (non-Homeric) prophecy foretold that Troy would never fall if he lived to see his twentieth birthday. Time was of the essence, therefore, and Achilles did what he had to do, when he got the chance. Which was, unfortunately, in the precinct of Apollo's temple.
Likewise, the death of Achilles while rescuing Briseis brought strongly to mind the variant where Achilles fell in love with Hector's sister Polyxena, and was killed by Paris while speaking to her. I'm not a great fan of this story, which is a late addition, but I do like the way they meet. Agreeing to ransom Hector for his weight in gold, Priam finds the reserves of Troy depleted by the war and unequal to the task. The women of Troy do their part, throwing their jewellery into the scales, and Polyxena leans over the wall to do the same. Her eyes lock with Achilles', who in romantic fashion takes her bracelet and declines the rest of the treasure. This connection I did like, unlike her other character accretions.
And finally, the quotes. Calling Agamemnon a sack of wine fell rather flat, but my inner fangirl squee-ed when Agamemnon said to Achilles, "Of all the warlords the gods love, I hate you the most". One of my all time favourite lines.
Taken as a whole then, there's a lot that I like, but also a lot that I don't, and the things that I don't like were so important in the scheme of things that they outweighed much of the good. I've seen it twice, I'll probably see it again, but above all I'm disappointed, because the flashes of brilliance show what might have been.
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Date: 2004-05-19 06:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-19 08:58 pm (UTC)