If I had to write some sort of primer on everything that is wrong with modern cinema, Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time would be the perfect place to look to begin working out a thesis statement. Just on a surface level, there is a colon in the title: never a good sign. Is the story original? No. It’s based on a video game. Colon in the title, adaptation of an existing property, and that property is a video game to boot… that’s three strikes right there and I haven’t even gotten into discussing the film itself. Dig a little deeper and the crap really starts to pile up. Too much unconvincing CG, a completely miscast young actor in the lead role just because he is a name, camera work that lacks the fundamentals of sequential storytelling, a clunky script that could have used about a hundred more rewrites; the laundry list is seemingly endless. I would be hard pressed to find any aspect of Prince of Persia that doesn’t expose it as a thoughtlessly churned out product of a creatively bankrupt studio system. Nevertheless, I will attempt to pontificate on it’s non-virtues a bit further in order to satisfy the morbid curiosity of whomever might want to know a little bit more about Jerry Bruckheimer’s latest producer credit.
The woefully miscast celebrity that I mentioned previously is Jake Gyllenhaal, and here he plays the role of Dastan, a former street urchin turned adopted son of the king of Persia. As the story begins, Dastan and his brothers are leading an invasion on some sort of religious city accused of harboring some sort of ancient version of weapons of mass destruction. Not much is clear. Dastan, uncomfortable with the chances of their battle plan succeeding, leads a small group of guerilla warriors into a side gate in order to infiltrate the city, open up the front gates, and give his brothers a better chance at succeeding. His plan works, he is hailed a hero, and all seems to be well… sort of. The city’s princess, Tamina (Gemma Arterton) isn’t very happy about the invasion, seems pretty ardent about the fact that they have no weapons, and may still have a few secrets that she’s hiding despite all this. During a celebratory ceremony Dastan’s father is murdered, Dastan is framed for the misdeed, and he and Tamina flee the city under threat of death. So, Dastan is now set up with the task of proving his innocence, avenging his father’s murder, dealing with a bratty princess, and figuring out what the deal is with this dagger that he found that everyone seems to want to take from him.
A good number of my complaints about this film and what it represents are evident right there in that first siege scene. Big stunts are relegated to computer-generated facsimiles of the characters in jeopardy rather than given to daredevil stuntmen. That can work, if used sparingly, and if the CG work is good enough that it makes you believe. Neither is true in this film. The computer characters are all over the screen, they don’t move like real people, they don’t look like real people, and they take you out of every bit of action that Prince of Persia has to present. A cartoon character that doesn’t look like a real person hanging off of a cliff that doesn’t look like it really exists isn’t suspenseful. Practical stunt work might be. A blatantly cartoon snake slithering over somebody’s unconscious form isn’t scary. A real snake would be. Not only are the computer shortcuts overused in this film, they look flat-out dated and lame. The CG work here doesn’t just look pre Avatar, it looks pre Phantom Menace. In 2010 that is just unacceptable. To top that off, whether the blame lies at the feet of the cinematographer, the editor, or the director himself, somebody here has no idea how to construct an action sequence whatsoever. The action is shot from too many angles, the cuts from angle to angle come too rapidly, and they are placed side by side with no regard for maintaining a coherent sense of spatial continuity whatsoever. If you like abstract images of people doing exciting things, then maybe Prince of Persia could be the film for you, but if you’re the type of person that actually likes to have some idea what the hell is going on in the film you’re watching, then this one is sure to be a frustrating experience.
Perhaps the biggest flaw of the film as a whole is how falsely epic and falsely dramatic the whole thing is presented as being. The music is booming and harrowing from the very first scene. We are presented with big emotional themes, the kind that might be used during the climax of some other movie when a main character is dying, or some great feat that the entire film has been leading up to gets achieved. Here such heavy-handed music is utilized from the first frame. It tries to milk the emotion out of duels to the death before we’ve even met any of the participants. It tries to make a triumphant victory out of a battle that we’ve yet to even understand. Rather than helping add color to scenes that would have been effective on their own already, the music in Prince of Persia tries to manipulate us into caring about things that we have no real reason to have an emotional attachment to. And the music isn’t the only culprit. From the needlessly grave performances of the actors, to the overuse of slow motion, to the clunky dialogue explaining to us just how important everything we’re watching is, this film couldn’t try harder to be an adventure epic and completely fail more. Several times I found myself laughing during moments where comedy wasn’t intended just because of how hard the film was trying to be “kick-ass” and how hard it was falling on it’s face. The only thing here that was remotely thrilling to watch or took any talent to pull off was the acrobatics exhibited when the characters run around on the city rooftops. I’m sure that by now you’ve seen parkour before; it’s a sort of urban freestyle running and jumping, and a pretty hot trend in action choreography to the point that The Office has already made fun of how played out it is. Well, the stunts performed here, in the few cases that they’re being pulled off by real people and not cartoon characters, are actually interesting and entertaining to watch (even if the art form has already become hurriedly played out), but they are surrounded by so much confusing and useless nonsense that it would have been much more fulfilling sitting through two hours of amateur video of parkour enthusiasts noodling around in a modern city than it would have been seeing this film. And how much would you enjoy watching amateur footage of parkour? Not much? Me either: that’s how much Prince of Persia sucks.
A large part of what is supposed to be entertaining in this film, aside from the action sequences, is the banter between Gyllenhaal and Arterton’s characters. Theirs is the classic sort of onscreen romance where despite a clear mutual attraction the characters hate each other on principle, spend most of their time together bickering, and only give in to their urges and come together in the very end. This sort of story arc is very familiar, largely played out, but it’s been gone back to so many times for a reason; it can be very effective. If the acting is good, the chemistry is palpable, the dialogue sharp and well written, then it’s a surefire way to get people fully involved in your romance subplot. Here the dialogue is hackneyed and obvious. The two leads are as dead eyed as large mouthed bass. They have no charm, less chemistry. I couldn’t have cared less about whether or not their near brushes with onscreen smooches were going to finally pay off in the end, and worse you realize every second that you’re watching a film so completely lacking complexity that the ending is never in doubt. Every level of Prince of Persia’s conception is rife with folly, but the film is at it’s very worst when it thinks that it’s being clever. All of the back and forth is delivered with assured winks and grins, but it has no punch, no electricity, and isn’t inspired enough to inspire the smallest of smirks. If Robert Downey and Gwyneth Paltrow trading barbs in the Iron Man series is the modern high mark for romantic bickering such as this, then Gyllenhaal and Arterton fall at the exact opposite end of the spectrum. Arterton looks so lost on screen that I can’t even fathom of the casting process that allows her to anchor as big a film as this. Gyllenhaal is playing his usual dopey and sensitive character rather than adapting at all to the action hero archetype (aside from beefing up physically). The two never feel authentic, but look constantly awkward delivering the mouthfuls of expository dialogue that make up the entirety of the script. They aren’t ever real people living in Persia, they exist as nothing more than a couple of pretty faces play acting for the amusement of the proles.
Some may point to Ben Kingsley in a supporting role as a potential refuge from the anemic performances of the leads, but his character is never interesting or complex. He’s slumming it here, looking completely disinterested, and merely cashing a paycheck in a way that he’s become too familiar with over the last decade if you want to start talking about things like reputations and legacies. The only bright spot in the acting, and probably in the entire film, is Alfred Molina playing a colorful, less than legitimate businessman named Sheik Amar. He seems to realize the cheesiness of the material he’s working with and appropriately swings for the fences with a showy, scenery chewing performance. He’s handed crap to work with, but he presents the crap to you with a knowing shrug of the shoulders that makes it pretty impossible to hold a grudge.
