Apocalypto reviewed by Sam Osborn
I've never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Mel Gibson. But if I had, I think I'd see Apocalypto as a filmic manifestation of himself: passionate, intense, and just a little absurd. You can tell how Gibson approaches his films, Apocalypto in particular. He charges at them like a ticked-off Toro in the bullfighter's ring. He immerses himself completely in the story's culture, going to painstaking lengths to bury us in details even when the story's as shallow as a Honduran puddle in the dry season. But I admire a filmmaker like him. There's a kind of purity in his style that insists upon long, epic, immersive pictures. Not to mention they're more violent than Mad Max on amphetamines.
Like the upcoming Children of Men, Apocalypto drops us by the collar into a civilization not our own and doesn't bother with exposition. But since the men are thongs and the women are topless, it doesn't take long for us to figure out we're in the midst of Mayan rule. Our hero is Jaguar Paw (Rudy Youngblood), a wily young man whose father has shown him the ways of the forest and the skills of the hunter. His wife, Seven (Dalia Hernandez), and their son, Turtles Run (Carlos Emilio Baez), live humbly in the village with all the rest, working and listening to the prophetic tales of the elders. This fine, happy life collapses though, as the Mayan kingdom begins ravaging its own villages for sacrifice to the gods. Take my explanation with a grain of salt however, because none of this clearly explained in the film; it's just what we manage to extrapolate from the man painted in orange lopping off heads. Anyway, while Jaguar Paw's village is being razed, he manages to lower his wife and son into a deep, unexplained hole, hiding them from the massacre. And even as he's being strung to the rest of the village's survivors and led to the acropolis for sacrifice, Jaguar Paw must plan his escape so he can rescue his family from certain death at the hands of a rainstorm.
Like his other films, Apocalypto is a simple contraption. Its surrounding details, as thick as they might be, still betray the simplicity of its story. And at its heart, Apocalypto is little more than a rowdy chase film. A good 90 minutes of it finds Jaguar Paw sprinting barefoot through the forest with a band of hunters closing in behind him. And so it's not hard to understand Touchstone's original July release slating for the film, as it probably will appeal to young men as much as to the Academy. But as Braveheart and Passion of the Christ have proved, simplicity isn't a problem for Mr. Gibson.
Either is violence, apparently. Braveheart shocked us early on with a swift beheading, and Jesus took lashings so brutal that Roger Ebert named Passion of the Christ the most violent film he had ever seen. So for Apocalypto, which pulls focus on one of the most vicious civilizations in history, violence is an obvious requisite. But, as usual with Gibson's work, the indulgence with violence brims upon excessive. It's not that I believe Mr. Gibson to be a sadist; but rather I think he has no other way as a director to channel his audience's emotions. It seems to be a weakness of his; one that puts characters second fiddle to blood and guts. Granted, in Apocalypto, a certain level of brutality is absolutely required for us to believe in Gibson's Mayan world. But there are times when the film just revels in the bloodshed.
If nothing else though, Apocalypto is earnest. From the visualsby Dancing with Wolves veteran Dean Semlerto the decision to use a nearly dead language, and to the casting of all no-name natives, Gibson has lunged at this picture with all his might. And for the most part, it works. But somewhere along the 150 minute freight train of a picture, we may have picked up a few splinters.
Samuel Osborn
I've never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Mel Gibson. But if I had, I think I'd see Apocalypto as a filmic manifestation of himself: passionate, intense, and just a little absurd. You can tell how Gibson approaches his films, Apocalypto in particular. He charges at them like a ticked-off Toro in the bullfighter's ring. He immerses himself completely in the story's culture, going to painstaking lengths to bury us in details even when the story's as shallow as a Honduran puddle in the dry season. But I admire a filmmaker like him. There's a kind of purity in his style that insists upon long, epic, immersive pictures. Not to mention they're more violent than Mad Max on amphetamines.
Like the upcoming Children of Men, Apocalypto drops us by the collar into a civilization not our own and doesn't bother with exposition. But since the men are thongs and the women are topless, it doesn't take long for us to figure out we're in the midst of Mayan rule. Our hero is Jaguar Paw (Rudy Youngblood), a wily young man whose father has shown him the ways of the forest and the skills of the hunter. His wife, Seven (Dalia Hernandez), and their son, Turtles Run (Carlos Emilio Baez), live humbly in the village with all the rest, working and listening to the prophetic tales of the elders. This fine, happy life collapses though, as the Mayan kingdom begins ravaging its own villages for sacrifice to the gods. Take my explanation with a grain of salt however, because none of this clearly explained in the film; it's just what we manage to extrapolate from the man painted in orange lopping off heads. Anyway, while Jaguar Paw's village is being razed, he manages to lower his wife and son into a deep, unexplained hole, hiding them from the massacre. And even as he's being strung to the rest of the village's survivors and led to the acropolis for sacrifice, Jaguar Paw must plan his escape so he can rescue his family from certain death at the hands of a rainstorm.
Like his other films, Apocalypto is a simple contraption. Its surrounding details, as thick as they might be, still betray the simplicity of its story. And at its heart, Apocalypto is little more than a rowdy chase film. A good 90 minutes of it finds Jaguar Paw sprinting barefoot through the forest with a band of hunters closing in behind him. And so it's not hard to understand Touchstone's original July release slating for the film, as it probably will appeal to young men as much as to the Academy. But as Braveheart and Passion of the Christ have proved, simplicity isn't a problem for Mr. Gibson.
Either is violence, apparently. Braveheart shocked us early on with a swift beheading, and Jesus took lashings so brutal that Roger Ebert named Passion of the Christ the most violent film he had ever seen. So for Apocalypto, which pulls focus on one of the most vicious civilizations in history, violence is an obvious requisite. But, as usual with Gibson's work, the indulgence with violence brims upon excessive. It's not that I believe Mr. Gibson to be a sadist; but rather I think he has no other way as a director to channel his audience's emotions. It seems to be a weakness of his; one that puts characters second fiddle to blood and guts. Granted, in Apocalypto, a certain level of brutality is absolutely required for us to believe in Gibson's Mayan world. But there are times when the film just revels in the bloodshed.
If nothing else though, Apocalypto is earnest. From the visualsby Dancing with Wolves veteran Dean Semlerto the decision to use a nearly dead language, and to the casting of all no-name natives, Gibson has lunged at this picture with all his might. And for the most part, it works. But somewhere along the 150 minute freight train of a picture, we may have picked up a few splinters.
Samuel Osborn