Conan The Barbarian Review

Jason Momoa is bloody tall and covered in muscles. As such, I rather hope he doesn’t read this review, track me down and flay me like the filthy pig-dog I am, because it’s not going to be pretty. That said, when Momoa introducedConan the Barbarian at the Empire Big Screen event/festival/shindig, he did seem like a rather likable and good-humoured guy so perhaps he wouldn’t flay me too nastily. It’s just a shame his film doesn’t share the aforementioned traits.

After several minutes of narrated mumbo-jumbo about evil warlords and masks made of bones and barbarian hordes and etc, we are introduced to a very hairy Ron Perlman, who faced with his dying pregnant wife on a battlefield does as any right-thinking barbarian chief would and performs a snap caesarean and thus Conan is born and held aloft for all to see (there’s a lot of holding things aloft going on in this film, usually accompanied by manly bellowing).

Years later, Conan’s village is destroyed and Ron Perlman killed by Stephen Lang who wants a bit of the aforementioned bone mask that will give him the power to revive his dead wife and rule the world or something, but only if he tracks down Rachel Nichols and sacrifices her. He also has a weird witch for a daughter (played by Rose McGowan) who isn’t very nice and has a dodgy haircut. Anyway, so when his dad gets killed, Conan runs away to grow up and become Jason Momoa and a sort of freedom fighting Robin Hood character, but with a big boat. After freeing several female slaves from the Valley of the Inexplicably Naked Boobs, Conan spots one of Lang’s former cronies and an opportunity for revenge.

Conan is not a special movie. Okay, so you won’t be expecting The Godfather or Apocalypse Nowor You, Me and Dupree, but even with suitably lowered expectations, Conan is still poor. If you’re planning to see it for the action, violence and gore, you’re still likely to be disappointed. None of the set pieces are particularly memorable and the violence is rather tame, frankly. Everything in the film looks like it was begged, borrowed or stolen from every C-list action flick from the last twenty years or so.

Momoa lacks the charm he demonstrated in the flesh and the steel from roles such as Khal Drogo in Game of Thrones and the rest of the cast are forgettable. Also, [insert oft-repeated grumble about pointless 3D and how dark that makes everything look, especially in the crypt-set final scenes which might as well be in black and white]. Additionally, the film is sexist, lacks a sense of irony and is almost entirely humourless. Well, almost. There is a funny bit when Conan cuts off someone’s nose and they shout, ‘aargh, my nose!’ But that’s it.

To offer some small pieces of praise, there are a few nice locations and a faintly interesting sequence where a sword is made, but that is about your lot. And if you’re planning on parting with cash to hear one unintentionally funny line, see a couple of nice bits of scenery and see a sword being made, then you need tracking down and flaying like the filthy pig-dog you are.