He’s Been A Bad Boy, He’s Been A Bad
Boy-Again-The Very Loosely Film Adaptation Of Homer’s “The Iliad” Bad Boy Brad Pitt's
“Troy” (2004)-A Review
DVD Review
By Alden Riley
Troy, Brad Pitt, 2004
That dude, that max daddy poet who
wrote in weird meter indeed, some hex hexameter thing only poets and English
Lit majors would understand Homer (no known last name or place of residence
although assuredly not homeless in the modern sense) knew how to tell a story, kept
the crowds humming, kept the boys and girls fixated to see what they could
learn about allure and love trampling power, glory and a side order of hubris
which is after all a Greek word.
Yes, that daddy, oops, max daddy
poet whose works were only slightly shorter than the late Professor Alan
Ginsberg, he of Howl angel hipsters
and homoerotic fantasies got the whole thing about the ten major themes in
Western literature right-especially the boy meets girl idea, the hubris of the
gods (God in latter day mono speak) defining some ill-thought out fate for mere
mortals, the mortals taking their own bad ass fates with grains of salt, the hubris and
rage, fury maybe a better word and the seemingly never-ending wars for power,
glory, etc. maybe love in the mix too if Helen was as beautiful as the man
said, the tormented life of the hero-heroine and the like. Good job brother,
good job indeed. How old Homer’s idea translate to the big 21st
century screen is another question as the Bad Boy Brad Pitt-led cast of the
film adaptation of Homer’s epic Troy
bring to a crude point what our max daddy was trying to say on his way to
numero uno in the Western literary canon, the now doomed old white men canon
which has been given short shrift of late. (For no known academic reason except
style and politics because after all you could in my humble opinion make world
literature a “big tent” including all the unjustly forgottens-but later on that
since we are into the roots today).
Here’s the play as old-time film
reviewer Sam Lowell a man locked in his own literary battles with Sarah
Lemoyne, a young up and coming reviewer, was fond of saying in his salad days.
Needless to say, love drove things batty back then, back three thousand years
ago just like today if you can believe the news, fake, alternative, truthful or
otherwise and take a look at what is going on around you. Paris, excuse me if I
don’t run the litany of other aliases he went under especially after he went down
to infamous and unmanly defeat at the hands of his girlfriend’s husband,
Menelaus, king hell king, another Sam Lowell expression, of virtuous and manly
Sparta who was full of that rage, maybe fury is a better word, and swore to
kill the bastard who took his woman away without so much as a by your leave had
eyes for one Helen. Helen, hellion, formerly of Sparta and now address unknown
but suspected to be in a place called Illium and hence the Illiad but who in those days when men, women, gods (God in that damn
mono-speak) worked like seven dervishes to keep the place safe from infidels,
greedy kings and warlords, con men and priests under the name Troy, not Troy,
New York which was only a Dutch sailor’s wonder dream back then if anybody was
living in Dutch land.
The presiding dignity of the fortress
unbreachable King Priam, played in the film, remember to follow the bouncing
ball because we are reviewing a film along the way, by the oldest brother of
Peter O’Toole or maybe father because he had lost a step or seven since he
played Lawrence of Arabia in another
war is hell film and Henry some number in The
Lion In Winter going mano a mano with Eleanor of Aquitaine speaking of
salad days. Priam father to ninety-eight pound weakling Paris who was totally
outmatched by old man Menelaus and his mega-death brother and heir apparent
Hector who as older brothers often have to do finished off Menelaus just in a
nick of time. So Hector he-man and Paris
light on his feet match up in the sibling contest to bring some excitement to
Illium town.
Funny this older brother had it
right when he heard Paris had bewitched Helen, that beauty so they say who
would go on to launch a thousand ships-and not in a good and jovial way like at
a ship’s christening. War ships and plenty manned by rough-hewn sailors who
took their love anyway they could get it under the whip just like Carl Solomon
of Ginsberg hipster dreams and madness. This kidnapping, some say the whole
thing was an early high-end wife-swapping but those harpies have malicious
tongues, of Helen was bad news, was predicted by Mr. Hector, also no known last
name or abode, except that silly Illium, of bringing down everlasting hell and
damnation on the town, would make guys, gods, like Apollo go crazy with ire,
maybe fury is a better word. Proved right but at what cost when senile and nerve-deadened
Priam indulged his freaking younger son and who knows maybe had twilight
designs on her himself if she really was that beautiful. (The gal who played
her Diane Kruger no question an ice queen beauty was built for sweaty nights
and silky sheets but who would soon wear on a man’s nerves with her damn
harping about that bloody lost to her ex-husband now mercifully dead by the
hand of Hector mentioned already).
War, war to the death, like half of
the Western literary canon that would follow this path-breaking epic was all
that could resolve this deadly dispute. Not surprising the leader of the war
party in Greek was Menelaus’ older brother Agamemnon, king of flea-bitten
Mycenae and a guy who lived to breath everlasting hell and damnation on
anything that breathed over in Illium town-wanted power glory and a few good
wenches, slaves to keep his bed warm. Naturally this is only the barest outline
of what got the conflict going and be assured that no way could Hollywood dole
out enough dough to do the whole Trojan War, Trojan remember the other name for
residents of wacky Illium. The cost for the billion extras along would break
Universal or Paramount. The war lasted years as one might expect of guys who
fought with axes, spears, and arrows so this film will only detail the last
gripping episodes where Troy is burned to the ground by the greedy Greek
governors led by brother-less child Agamemnon and that cast of thousands who
roiled the Aegean finding love wherever they could-savage rapine if the
occasion called for it and wenches and shipboard romances if they hit an lively
port.
While the boy meets girl story
drives the film, has to since after all Helen’s face launched that one thousand
ships and the guys who played the Greek kings except the pretty boy kind of
Ithaca who seemed to have some sway over him, the real focus is on the warrior
class, on guys like one Achilles, later in history as predicted by myopic mother
to be known as painful Achilles heel but then a stone-cold killer, a warrior to
put every Marvel Comic cinematic character in the shade, even Captain America
if you can believe that. This Achilles is ranked number one in the world, the
known world which was basically the Greek city-states, Troy, Dutch lands if
inhabited by static dreamers and maybe bloody England since many of the actors
had distinctive British accents and had that sun never sets on the Empire
demeanor.
The problem with being Achilles,
warrior for hire to the highest bidder or if he liked the take, remember played
by modern day bad boy, and bad boy again Brad Pitts, is some ass is always
looking to knock you down, take you down a peg. Or have some hireling do the
dirty work. No question Achilles, another guy with no known last name or
address except the battlefields of whoever has the best deal, had a long run at
number one stone cold killer maybe the legendary Greek psycho but he also had
his sensitive side, that brooding philosophy king in waiting Plato was always
dogging us mere mortals with. Worried maybe about his strange obsession with
bedding vestal virgins especially those who served one Apollo, a god among gods
(God in mono-speak), also with no known last name or place of residence.
Emphatically not worried about his fate, knowing what dear mother had spun her
crystal ball around, knowing too a soldier’s destiny but ready to throw the
dice that glory would come with living fast, dying young and making a good
ashen-strewn corpse. And we still speak his name, speak of the warrior king if
not of his vestal virgin with the unpronounceable first name, also with no last
name although her former residence was One Temple Of Apollo Place. Yeah, that
max daddy Homer sure knew how to tell a story-even in weird meter.
