Schwarzenegger Season: Conan The Barbarian (Dir John Milius, 2h9m, 1982)

Arnold Schwarzenegger, Four syllables to conjure up so many different things. The stilted Austrian accent that's practically become through his countless imitators (The Simpsons' Reiner Wolfcastle, Duke Nuke, two parody rock bands, of which Arnie and the Terminators is by far the better), and inevitably Arnold himself, a parody of itself. A certain, macho, hyper-masculine idea of the movie star-and honestly, of men in general. The bodybuilding, including the memetically amusing Pumping Iron in which Arnold regales us of the power of the pump, which Arnold has returned to in recent years as showman, rather than participant. The early roles, largely silent or monosyllabic toughs culminating in his first starring role in the 1982 adaption of Conan the Barbarian, from which, alongside The Terminator (1984), the colossal hulking figure of the Austrian becomes a pair of shoulders upon which an entire film can balance.


The rest of course, is a blur of history, of ever-bigger action movies, before an ill-fated turn to comedy writes the majority of his output in the latter half of the 1990s off as second-rate, and his eye inevitably strays to loftier ambitions than purely being one of the biggest action stars in cinema. Two stints as the "Governator" follow, in which, like so many sequels, he failed to live up to the hype, before a return to cinema in the underrated all-star vehicle, The Expendables (1 and 2), saw him return to the mantle of one of the best action movie stars around, four decades into his career, which has seen him as bankable, if somewhat above and beyond cinema at this point. But, we're getting ahead of ourselves.

For, between the time he was winning Mr Universe, and the rise of his career as a time-travelling cyborg from the future, there was an age undreamed of. They called it the early 1980s. And unto this, Arnold destined to wear the jewelled crown of California upon a troubled brow. It is I, a film reviewer, who alone can tell thee of his saga. Let me tell you of the days of high adventure! Let me tell you about a mighty sword and sorcery tale, based upon the best selling novels of Robert E Howard, in which the muscle of Schwarzenegger meets the epic yarns of Conan and the Hyperion Age, in which our mighty hero claimed his place among Hollywood's action stars, and paved the way for fantasy movies as a genre, to come! 

We begin...in darkness, before, with booming narration, we are introduced, in the iconic tones of the much loved late Mako (later to voice the equally loved mentor-ish Uncle Iroh in Avatar the Last Airbender), to our narrator, in the form of the Wizard of the Mounds. It is through him that we are introduced to Conan's world, of the quasi-prehistoric world of fantasy of the Hyborean Age. This opening scene is, like the opening crawl of Star Wars, (written by co-writer Oliver Stone), twofold: it not only transports us to Conan's world, but, in broad brushstrokes, maps out what this world is like, and the film wastes no time in presenting its world, with the forging of the sword, the very emblem of this era, and the introduction of the young Conan, with his family.

The world of Conan is an intriguing one, and its adaption is no exception. Certainly, by the 1970s, Star Wars had launched a reappraisal of the fantastical and the heroic; by the mid 1970s, things like Lord of the Rings and the counter-cultural work of Michael Morecock had brought fantasy back into the mainstream, together with a republishing of the novels by the now-defunct Lancer books. Conan's cinematic world, meanwhile, begins to typify what the genre would essentially be, at least cinematically, up until the release of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001); a grounded, gritty, and realistic vibe that would permeate throughout the genre in the intervening years. Compare, for example, Conan, to Excalibur, (1981), and though the tone, of bombastic power fantasy, may be present throughout, the execution is night-and-day, the glitzy, shiny, ultra-clean otherworldly Arthurian myth swept aside (despite Excalibur costing $9 million less) by the grit and grounded and physical Conan.

Conan, certainly left its mark Between Conan and Rings lies nineteen years of films that either evoke, or run counter to Conan's cinematic sensibilities-from the blatant copies (the execrable Kull the Conqueror, Red Sonja, to the campy if enjoyable Masters of the Universe), the knowing winks (Ralph Bashki's underrated Fire and Ice, the final instalment of the original Evil Dead trilogy, Army of Darkness), and those who utterly run counter to Conan, (The Princess Bride, Willow and the darkly brilliant Legend and Ladyhawke, both of which hark back to the more eloquent and stylistic Excalibur).

Our hero's tale, though, has barely begun, and it is here that Milius's background in making macho male fantasies, and his undeniable cinematic eye, meet. No sooner has Conan's father (played by William Smith, one of several actors shortlisted for the role of Conan), introduced his son to the pivotal idea of the riddle of steel, a recurring element in the Conan series, in which the sword, and prowess with it, takes centre stage, than the village is attacked by the forces of snake-cult leader Thulsa Doom, (James Earl Jones.) The charge of the cavalry into the village, to cause utter chaos, and the deaths of Conan's mother and father, is not just a well-shot sequence, but brings both the spectacular durm und strung music of Basil Poledouris, and the cinematography of Duke Callaghan, which co-opts the quick-cut montage of battle scenes from Alexander Nevsky (1938), to add heft to the speed and ferocity of the attack (something the film returns to at its denouement).

The arrival of Doom, Jones at his sonorous and magnificent best, even as a fairly one-note villain, imbued with the then-recent menace of Jim Jones and Jonestown as a insidious and all-powerful cult leader, leads to the death of the boy's parents, (his father torn apart by dogs, his mother decapitated in one of the film's most impressive technical feats, for a film eschewing models for clever perspective tricks and massive setpieces), and the young Conan and his other survivors are forced into slavery. Enter, following an impressively done time-skip, the man himself, Arnold Schwarzenegger, in the flesh. Whilst, in future instalments, Arnold's nigh-indestructibility will become nigh legendary, here he's simply a mortal (ironic, considering he'd already chalked up Hercules), and often finds himself, for all his barbarian power and presence, on the receiving end of much of the film's violence

Conan is promptly pressed from his role, pushing a massive wheel in bleak and arid desert into gladiatorial combat, where, between Milius's smartly shot action and Schwarzenegger's charisma, the warrior soon wins over the crowd, and, in thickly accented German, soon booms, given an education, the first of many quotable lines (this one co-opted from Genghis Khan) that the best thing in life is to "Crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentation of their women." This now cultured warrior, however, is soon set free, and following an encounter with a witch who provides him, via proto-sexposition, proving that HBO never invented the thing in the first place.

Conan meets his first ally, and it is here that the fantasy quest becomes apparent. Thus, our heroes, for Conan and his companion, thief/archer Subotai (Australian surfer Gerry Lopez, dubbed by an unknown, but clearly underpaid actor), quickly come across civilisation, and the third member of their group, the brigand Valeria (Sandahl Bergman), with whom Conan strikes up a relationship, begin their adventure. They quickly break into one of the compounds run by Doom's cult, kill a giant snake, and escape, only to be tasked with a quest to retrieve the daughter of Max Von Sydow's King Osric.

What follows, as Conan first sneaks into Doom's lair, only to be captured and crucified, before being brought back by magic, and leading a second attack on the nefarious serpentine cult leader, rescuing the princess from his clutches, at the cost of Valeria's life. Our heroes regroup and set a trap, leading a desperate last stand against his men, in a booby-trapped maze of rocks that, in brutal fashion whittle down Doom's forces before Conan faces off against his lieutenants, defeats them both, and then takes the fight to Doom, eventually brutally decapitating him in front of his forces, which then dissipate into the darkness in an impressively done montage. Arnold rides back to Osric, and the film cuts to show him as an older man as Mako preludes Conan the Destroyer (a film made two years later, for two million dollars less, with little of the same cast, none of the same directors, and little of the same creative staff), and the film draws to a triumphant close.

Conan the Barbarian is teen escapism writ large, an enjoyably bloody pulpy take on the genre that runs on a certain unapologetic adolescence, from its remarkably violent and grounded fight scenes, to its positively he-Manish protagonist, to its leering, and at some points puerile view on women. Yet, it's also a well-wrought piece of cinema, a smartly cinematic chunk of escapism into a fantasy adventure world, laying the groundwork for nearly the next two years of fantasy cinema, catapulting Arnold Schwarzenegger and Poledouris to fame, and bringing the world of Robert E Howard to vivid, action-packed life.

But, we need to redress the balance. Did Conan launch Arnold into the mainstream as an actor, an avatar for adolescent power fantasy, a veritable manifestation of the artwork of the legendary Frank Frazetta? Absolutely. But to call Arnold out of his depth as an actor in Conan is doing the man a disservice-by 1982, Arnold was not only famous in the world of bodybuilding-the 1977 film, Pumping Iron bridging the gap between the Mr Universe winner and the quasi-legendary "Arnhold", but had won a Golden Globe for Stay Hungry, played a sterling comic foil to Kirk Douglas in The Villain, and made walk-on appearances in tv and in the star-studded if enjoyably naff Scavenger Hunt (which seems to feature every single actor of the late 1970s).

Arnold may have needed voice-coaching to get through his lines, but he undeniably has talent, even this early in his career; he is, for great chunks of the film head and shoulders above the rest of the cast, a warrior at once capable of sardonic retort-his relationship with the warrior-god Crom is antagonistic, graverobbing him and cursing his name before the final battle, whilst the film matches his martial power-Schwarzenegger together with his co-stars would learn to sword fight, and Arnold would go on perhaps the toughest training regime of his career-with his natural charisma. He is, undeniably, the reason this film succeeds, and on his shoulders,carries Conan

So, did Arnold bring the adventures of Conan to life, and a cult film it did become-a hero to many, and the inspiration for many imitators. And having no further concern, he and his companions sought adventure in Hollywood. Many wars and feuds did Arnold fight. A robot from the future he did become, and a mentor to a fellow barbarian, and even a vengeful commando seeking revenge. Honour and fear were heaped upon his name and, in time, he eve became a protector of Earth against alien menace, by his own hand. And this story shall also be told. But for now, Conan The Barbarian is the perfect introduction to Arnold Schwarzenegger's filmography, in which the Austrian plays the legendary literary hero to perfection on grand scale, launching not only his career, but the very concept of the dark fantasy movie.

Rating: Highly Recommended

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