Fantasy Zone: The one where a dragon gets suicide-bombed

 

Title: Dragonslayer

What Year?: 1981

Classification: Runnerup

Rating: That’s Good! (4/4)

 

In the course of my reviews, something I’ve acknowledged again and again is that there are movies that are above my radar. What might be counterintuitive is that this isn’t a personal judgment. I may give good reviews to the most infamous movies ever made, but that’s not because I instinctively hate anything that’s good or popular. On the contrary, some of my all-time favorites are the ones I don’t feel I could do anything with as a reviewer. With this review, I’m finally getting to a definitive case and point, an undisputed classic I have repeatedly held up yet never found space to review, except for a post on the novelization. Here is Dragonslayer, the greatest 1980s fantasy film… at least before Willow.

Our story begins with a magician and his young apprentice Galen in a gloomy castle. A group of peasants arrive, led by a spunky youth who pleads for help against a dragon that has plagued their kingdom. It’s revealed that their kings have chosen appeasement, offering maidens by lottery as sacrifices to the monster. To prove the point, the king’s most trusted warrior arrives and murders the magician. Galen accepts the challenge and makes the journey, discovering on the way that the youth is a woman hiding from the lottery. When his magic appears to trap the dragon in its lair, the kingdom rejoices, except the king, who locks Galen in the dungeon. But of course, the dragon isn’t quite dead, and chaos ensues as it resurfaces. When the king’s own daughter becomes the next sacrifice, Galen must go forth to do battle with the dragon. Can he prevail, or has the sorcerer’s apprentice overestimated his powers for the last time?

Dragonslayer was a 1981 heroic fantasy film directed by Matthew Robbins from a script cowritten with Bill Barwood. The movie was made as a joint production between Paramount and Disney. The film starred Peter MacNicol as Galen and the late Caitlin Clarke as Valerian, with Ralph Richardson (see Tales From The Crypt and Time Bandits) as the magician Ulrich and John Hallam of  Flash Gordon  (d. 2006) as the warrior Tyrian. Effects for the dragon Vermithrax included “go-motion” by ILM’s Phil Tippett (all hail Phil), as well as a life-sized practical/ animatronic rig. A novelization was written by Wayland Drew. The film was well-received by critics and genre fans, including Roger Ebert and Peter Nicholls, but was a commercial failure, earning a box office of $14.1 million against an $18M budget. It was successful as a “cult” film on VHS. Later DVD releases were criticized for censorship and misleading claims about screen formats. Richardson died in 1983, before the release of his last credited film, the 1984 Tarzan adaptation Greystoke. Clarke died in 2004 of ovarian cancer.

For my experiences, this was a movie I first saw on VHS in junior high as an alleged introduction to mythology. The funny thing is, I don’t recall being that impressed with it. It was probably a decade or more before I looked into getting my own copy; I specifically recall choosing a VHS tape over DVD because of complaints and rumors about the latter. I watched that tape regularly for a very long time, and I still don’t knos ifit became a favorite, even compared to undisputedly flawed films like Krull and Conan The Destroyer. What kept it in my mind was how often it was spoken of well (plus a chance encounter with the novel). When I contemplated reviewing it, I puzzled further over how to classify it. It definitely felt like what I have called a “runnerup”, except that there was never really any one film to dominate the field. The very strange thing about the whole early to mid-‘80s fantasy wave is how few were successful commercially or in any other sense. It’s all the more odd that this film in particular would be the most infamous dud, as it actually got to theaters ahead of most of the rest.

In this review and leading up to it, the one thing I have increasingly appreciated is just how solid the film is on virtually every front. For me, this is more grudging respect, as there’s plenty of things that gets on my bad side. I don’t care for the impressionist soundtrack at all, for example, nor the virgin-sacrifice innuendo (ignored in the novel) and haphazardly developed criticisms of Christianity. I have also found the running time and pacing problematic, too long for an old-school creature feature without the depth of an epic. What I most actively irritating is the princess, whom I can’t regard as anything but spoiled and self-centered even in self-inflicted martyrdom. (Then again, Krull has Ken Marshall in the starring role…) Still, I will freely admit these are small if not entirely petty things next to what it does right. As fans have regularly said, this is above all a smart film, and this shows especially in its moral ambiguity. This isn’t a tale of pure-hearted heroes against pure-hearted heroes, nor an amoral vision of barbarians ravaging and ravishing across the landscape. Instead, we have a scenario where everyone has a point, and the hero knows he is fallible. The standouts that redeem the whole movie are Richardson and Hallam, who have an impact far beyond their surprisingly limited roles, enough that I will get back to them.

Then, of course, there is Vermithrax Pejorative, truly the definitive monster. Like many things, what’s easily underestimated is how little we really see. Much of the screen time is the dragon aloft, which paradoxically looks like not doing anything except for the frequent fire-breathing. We get a much better sense of the beast when Galen follows it into its lair, complete with a little extra fun when he encounters the brood of dragonets. What makes it all truly exceptional is the oddly prosaic design (reused in Rick And Morty), in which the wings must be incorporated into all modes of locomotion rather than being put out of the way by the convenient multiplication of wings. (There’s wonky continuity in an early scene when the dragon reaches out with what should really be its hindfoot, but this is a dream sequence.) It further fits the de-romanticization of the dragon; this isn’t a misunderstood thing of beauty, but a big, damn, beady-eyed murdering lizard. (Am I the only one who thinks it looks a little like the Skekses in Dark Crystal?) Still, there is real pathos, especially in the discovery of its young and its final battle with the resurrected sorcerer. My favorite scene of all with the beast is its brief encounter with the cleric, played by Ian McDiarmid before his Star Wars turn, embodying the thematic clash of paganism and Judeo-Christianity better than anything else in the film.

That brings me to the “one scene”, and it had to be the one and only scene between Hallam and Richardson. As the people of Urland make their plea for the magician’s aid, the warrior arrives and gleefully sets about dashing their hopes. Valerian identifies him by name on sight, and there’s a few moments of banter before he comes toe with the magician. When the elderly servant tries to intervene, Tyrian muses, “If he’s ready to lay a dragon in its grave, he has nothing to fear from me.” He continues to needle at the sorcerer, building on the servant’s well-meant words. Finally, Ulrich steps in, with enough dignity to silence the skeptic. He calls for a knife, which Galen throws down. Then, fatefully, the doors slam shut on the apprentice, surely a demonstration that would give even Tyrian pause if he saw it. Then we cut to Richardson as he says cryptically, “You can’t hurt me.” What follows will surely be remembered if you have seen the movie at all, and the one thing worth further note is that it’s the warrior who seems unnerved.

In closing, what I come back to is just what happened to start the ‘80s fantasy wave and keep it going in the face of ample discouragement. On that point, I already laid out my suspicions in reviewing The Black Cauldron (see also Leviathan for the even more improbable “underwater sci fi” niche genre). One studio greenlights a project, another decides to do the same with a similar one under consideration, and so on until nobody can say who really was responsible. The punchline of history is that the blind rush of the fantasy craze generated more real creativity than any number of profitable and properly analyzed “trends”. It might not have led to many films that made money, yet it produced the perfect storm for later film enthusiasts, a bumper crop of films that were strange, unclassifiable, goofy, and yet sometimes beautiful and powerful. That is the legacy embodied in Dragonslayer, and it’s enough to be glad for the whole fantasy boomlet. Because where would we be if Hollywood had to make sense?