The Beastmaster

It is borderline impossible to believe this came from the same director as Phantasm, John Dies At The End, and Bubba Ho-Tep. I can't believe a director who brought such weird, wild stories to life could also be responsible for this piece of plain white bread on a paper plate. If you've seen any sword-and-sorcery story, you've seen Beastmaster. Chosen one, village destroyed, swears revenge, yadda yadda yadda. Because of the arcane nature surrounding his birth -- he was magically transported into the uterus of a cow before birth, don't ask -- he has the ability to communicate with animals. I think. It's only implied. So, he has travels with two ferrets, an eagle, and a tiger they painted black because ... just because. Find a few randos on the way to bring along and boom, you got yourself every Conan knock-off you've ever heard of. All this movie really has to show for itself as new and different is the animal thing, so, if Conan but also Dr. Doolittle is your thing, Beastmaster is here to serve. But even then, don't, because this movie is so damned boring. Direction is flat and listless. Reportedly, the budget was nine million, but it sure isn't on screen, unless you count the helicopter shots used to simulate the eagle's vision when it flies. There's some pretty shots of the California wilderness, but I could see those with a Google Image search. The story, as I mentioned, is boilerplate in the extreme. The only surprise whatsoever is that the big bad guy dies with twenty minutes left to go, so there's this whole epilogue with a battle against people you forgot about from the beginning of the movie that just show up for a useless epilogue that only serves to bloat this movie's running time way past the point of rationality. This thing is two hours long, and feels that and more. There is more fat in this movie than on Jabba The Hutt's ass. And that's two hours you get to spend with some of the worst acting. Rip Torn is the main villain, and he is all over the place, his volume and intensity jumping up and down at random, even within the same sentence. John Amos is a sidekick found along the way, and he plays John Amos. He isn't even trying to get into the role, he's just himself. Tanya Roberts was always budget Bo Derek, and that's no different here. Despite this, she's the best actor in the movie, which in this case is like being the felon with the shortest prison sentence. And then there's the lead, Marc Singer. From the neck down, built for this. From the neck up, he has the acting range to play the before picture in a Dulcolax commercial. He seems incapable of showing the right emotion at the right time, and has the range of a subway turnstile. To call him wooden would be an insult to forests. He should be imposing and fearsome in battle and heroic and noble otherwise, driven by a desire for justice. He is none of that. Ever. Not even by accident. The closest he comes to showing emotion is when he gaslights Tanya Roberts' slave girl character (because of course) while she's sunbathing topless (because of course) into thinking his pet tiger is going to eat her; he "saves" her and then gleefully forces himself upon her for a kiss before she shoves him away. Our hero, everybody! And that brings up the last issue with this movie: tone. The phrase "it doesn't know what it wants to be" probably gets overused, even by me, but in this case, it really doesn't know, at a functional level. There is absolutely no blood whatsoever, and the movie is rated PG, which would lead one to believe this is sanitized enough for children ... but there are three topless scenes, the aforementioned sexual assault by our hero, dog murder, and child sacrifice by throwing a toddler into a raging inferno. Fun for the whole family! If this had picked a lane -- hard R with graphic violence and nudity, or soft PG and go campy with it -- it would've been better. Not great, not with Marc Singer, but better. But this? This indecisive half-measure? No. Death by a thousand cuts is really the story of The Beastmaster. Other than some nice scenery and a rather varied score, this movie limps along for way too long on the shoulders of a lead that cannot carry it, through a confused tone and a stock story. There is nothing worth anyone's time in this. It isn't close to campy enough for silly fun, it isn't sleazy or violent enough to be a dad movie, and nobody in the movie seems to be taking anything seriously enough for the viewer to care.