Wall of Paul

So here comes Robert Zemeckis’ computer-birthed “Beowulf,” and the 3-D process, though not perfect by any means, has improved by light years. But, I tell you what, pick your headaches. This baby, when you get right down to it, is a stabbing-grabbing-roaring-whoring digital effects sequence stretched out to feature length, and if you can endure it without feeling like you’ve been fed head-first through a massive Cuisinart, maybe you should quit that desk job and go buy yourself an Apache attack helicopter.

This is where I would normally convey the plot to you, and I suppose I’ll go ahead and do it again. But, honest to God, do you really care? I could tell you an army of animated Marty Feldmans shoot nuclear missiles out their asses for two hours, and you still might go see it. I mean, come on – it’s in 3-D!! And you can see it in IMAX!! What people really want me to do is review the technology, and, again, I suppose I will, to an extent. But is this what it’s come to, folks?

If you’re familiar with the epic poem, “Beowulf,” you probably already know that it focuses on the titular hero (“Ray Winstone,” and I’ll get to those quotation marks later), who takes it upon his bad, washboard-abbed self to slay Grendel, (“Crispin Glover”) a nasty monster who likes to chow-down on the villagers. And that, more or less, is all ye really need to know.

Since I was already tested on it in high school, I’m not about to re-read the poem to tell you what’s legit and what’s been added for the movie. Suffice it to say that there’s also a lecherous King with a secret (“Anthony Hopkins”), his put-upon Queen (“Robin Wright Penn”), a court bad-guy (“John Malkovich”), Grendel’s mom (“Angelina Jolie,” hubba-hubba-hubba), and a horde of Vikings who drink mead, roar with hearty Viking laughter, and occasionally get impaled, ripped in half, and/or eaten by Grendel.

As for the technology, there aren’t any “performances” in “Beowulf” as such, because the actors were filmed with little sensors attached to sundry parts of their bodies, then had their movements fed into a computer as bits of digital information (thus the quotation marks around their names.) Then the movie was more or less slathered around them like electrified hollandaise sauce.

This gives Zemeckis, especially in the early going, the chance to do ridiculous tracking shots that travel for miles and miles, up and down and around any setting. This sort of thing works to great effect during a pretty thrilling final battle with a winged beast. But it just gets in the way most of the time, like Forrest Gump at the White House.

Nothing is too much for Zemeckis. At one point, when Grendel is attacking the Vikings, a shot actually starts off in a character’s throat, and proceeds from there. As you may know, directors who attempted this in the past were never able to devise a way to shove an entire Panaflex camera into an extra’s esophagus. When somebody finally makes a porno movie using this process – and don’t worry, they will – better pack your bags. The End Times will be near.

The most shocking thing about “Beowulf,” aside from several moments of George Lucas-style ludicrous dialogue, is the violence. And I can’t stress enough that this thing is incredibly violent. Innards spew so often (in 3-D yet) it barely registers after a while.

I just about got up and ran the first time Grendel appeared, screeching like a pus-covered banshee and shaking people around like rag dolls. During a flashback, Beowulf even gets swallowed by a sea monster, then digs his way out...through the monster’s eyeball! Jolie’s absurd sexual allure is a welcome salve during her few minutes of screen time. And note that her feet are actually shaped like spiked pumps. Talk about the ultimate woman.

See it if you must, or if you think you'll be shunned by your peers if you don't. But I'd rather watch real human beings argue across a kitchen table. Poor old silly me.

“Beowulf” contains many, many moments of puke-worthy violence, and instances of rather more beguiling full-frontal Angelina Jolie nudity. Sure, she’s dripping some sort of golden liquid, and her braided hair moves around like a snake, but you know the score. Fans of mucho-macho homoeroticism will also be amply rewarded. I don’t know how on earth this is rated PG-13. That’s just crazy. 114 minutes.

- Paul Tatara