The Case for Stolen Time

Getting to the screening of Prince of Persia: the Sands of Time proved almost more entertaining than the movie itself:

1) the weather in Wellington was frightful, with frequent yet brief hail storms raining on the central city;

2) I "mislocated" the movie, though I blame the Embassy's website which made me think Prince of Persia was on when instead it was that other controversial movie about middle eastern stereotypes, $ex & the City 2;

3) Readings prices appear to have gone up by 30 cents, to $10.80. My initial reaction startled the person at the ticket office, as I unleashed a tirade of cynicism as, if you add 2.5% to that sum, you get about $11.00 - which is, in my mind, the objective, anticipating the increase in GST and using it as a way to round the total price up. I sense something evil - possibly more evil than anything in Prince of Persia.

Eventually, we sat ourselves before the screen, protected from the elements and in the relative warmth that Hoyts never provided in the winter months (I remember that screening of Pirates of the Carribean 3, freezing experience that it was). It was a full session, with the people next to me finding all the fairly "set" jokes hilariously funny and giggling around in their mirth, so perhaps the combined body mass of the attendees multiplied by any physical exertion involved in laughing acted as extra heating. But I won't dwell too long on that thought.

I knew this was another action offering, providing as much substance and realism as the aforementioned S&TC sequel. Jake Gyllenhaal stars as Dastan, buff adopted brother of the Persian King, who discovers a magical charm that will help him save the kingdom from the evil Ben Kinglsey, while winning him the hand of a beautiful princess, in the form of Gemma Arterton's Tamina. None of them are Middle Eastern, which has caused its own bit of criticism.

But then, those critics, if they come from the region, should be happy, as the movie is fairly rubbish. Fairly quickly into the movie, the voices start getting to you (everyone's random English accent, and of course Gemma Arterton's shrill whining is enough to erode rock - part of the reason there is so many desert shots in the film) and the story becomes almost completely obvious, though I must admit the scale of the ending did surprise me a bit (I won't say more, for spoiler alert reasons). But then, you can tell by the way the film is put together that it isn't really a work of love: Disney may own Pixar, but the CGI of this film looks so obvious it will be appalling on the small screen; and the opening shots are so quick and unadventurous that I can hear the voice of Joss Whedon in my head screaming in directorial pain, lambasting the movie for providing a visual offering less complicated than the most straight-forward scene in the beloved Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

On the plus side, the main actors are all fairly easy to watch (if not listen to) and the gorgeous shots of the warm desert filled a void that the local weather had created. The main action sequences are based on the Bourne-building jumping that has become so popular in action flicks these days (because it is pretty awesome, to be honest), and neither these nor the swordplay scenes look particularly fake (hang you head in shame, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull) which adds a touch of excitement to the fairly humdrum story proceedings.

But overall, the film feels a bit lazy, a bit haphazard. Not in the sets or the performances, but in the script and the direction. The final pre-end credit "message" is a total snore, and a just-before-certain-death kiss had the even the least demanding of the moviegoers laughing in derision. It's not funny or cheesy enough to be a guilty pleasure like the original Mummy was, and perhaps that's partly because Gyllenhaal is an actor that always seems to carry a certain intensity with him, more so than someone like the roguish Brendan Fraser (though that man can definitely do serious; check out Gods and Monsters if you don't believe me). He definitely does the action hero bits well, but please, no Prince of Persia 2, unless he somehow comes to New York to slay a few self-indulgent S&TC shoppers.

Verdict: Prince of Persia pleasant enough way to avoid howling gales and frozen rain, but not a movie I will really consider watching again. I reckon this film would be better viewed on the big screen (though perhaps with ear muffs for the louder scenes and when Arterton speaks) than at home, but don't take that as encouragement to go see it at all. 5 flying daggers out of 10.