Why so much hype?

One of my all time favorites.

Although it has its amusing moments, in eneral the plot does not convince.

Great story, amazing characters, superb action, enthralling cinematography. Yes, this is something I am glad I spent money on.

Dark, gritty retelling of the King Arthur legend. Not the innocent romantic version everyone is used to, this is complete with blood, gore and magic.Solid plot, great direction. Decent enough performances from the main actors - Nigel Terry, Helen Mirren, Nicholas Clay and Nicol Williamson. Also includes early-career performances from Gabriel Byrne, Liam Neeson, Patrick Stewart and Ciaran Hinds.

If any should find the verbiage of the review impenetrable, then congratulations, you possess the prerequisite disabilities necessary for deciphering the deeper logic of this illogically lauded landmark of cinematic stupidity. But by all means, I do welcome someone to please reasonably enlighten what exactly is good about this movie... And while I wait for pigs to fly -- and before getting onto the intricacies of its incompetence -- I will first, in as pithy a fashion as can be mustered, thoroughly explain precisely what is bad about this movie now: EVERYTHING.I first encountered director John Boorman's 1981 abomination "Excalibur" on VHS as a child of that decade. and without any passion recalled only that it never particularly resonated, aside from its memorable molestation of Carl Orff's fantastic "Oh Fotruna" on the soundtrack. Under the ignorant indoctrination of distance, I eventually succumbed to the assumption within popular consensus that it must be pretty good -- afterall, its status as the finest cinematic translation of Arthurian legend is constantly evoked to the point of having created its very own mini mythos. Upon resent sober reevaluation, I disturbingly found myself at a complete loss as to what could have possibly gained this film such a following of ardent acclaimers. I do not know what necromancy has perpetrated such a mass delusion upon this vocal constituency, but their adoration is patently misplaced. Due to its utter incomprehensibility, as I attempt to critique the wall-to-wall flaws of this film, I will dwell exclusively on the deficiencies that render its ponderous plotting unintelligible rather than dare delve into the details of describing the silly scenes arbitrarily stitched together to resemble its said plot.An incoherent unfocused mishmash of checklist attributes found in Arthurian Lore does not unto itself make for engaging cinematic storytelling, when the needed essentials of solid drama are shunned. I stress the faults within Excalibur's "cinematic language" here, because regardless of its adherence to sequential events, it is the dramatist's very purpose to call upon technique to link those happenings with a rationale that lends them credence, creating a suspension of disbelief for their fantastical nature to nevertheless ring true. Rather than allowing even a summery reading, the movie plays like being granted only the chapter titles and footnotes from a sprawling novel to glean inference from, without sufficient context of the vast content composed between to inform how each random caption connects to a cohesive whole. Any decent yarn-spinner resigns to the responsibility to at minimum entertain, if not edify. Artists enter into intmate bonds of good faith with captive audiences, assuring that their attentive trust is a reciprocal investment that will be rewarded in kind with some recognizable or relevant reflection of life as comformation of a shared humanity and therein pay off the indebted obligation owed for luring their patronage. Absent in Boorman's "Excalibur" is any variant of satisfying narrative tropes; Establishing the stakes for audiences to buy into, through engrossing conflicts, relatable ambitions, and objective goals. The anticipatory tensions and delights derived from setting up character and plot details, dynamics, quirks, traits, and motifs to be revisited in inventive ways. Using dramatic-irony, reversals- of-fortune, tragedies, and triumphs to engage empathy and entice desire toward resolution.In lieu of chivalrous ideals, Boorman lathers on stilted misogynistic posturing, and not much else. As a confirmed admirer of composer Trevor Jones, its with apprehension that I admit his music here provides nothing worth note, having been relegated to incidental ambiance due to the desperate amount of "needle-dropping" of Richard Wagner and Carl Orff -- whose classical pieces were already autonomously great before being desecrated in this nonsense and therefore cannot be applied by commandeered proxy to the picture's credit. Character nuance in thought process and relationship dynamics are non- existent, nor is any action granted even a crudely drawn motivation, therefore the drastically broad yet thin arcs are simply devoid of plausibility. The heavy- handed expositional dialogue is truly ridiculous -- every single word that comes out of a character's mouth is an embarrassingly lame soliloquy stating exactly what is already evident, but not explaining any reasoning for any of its indiscernible merit. For a film that employs many indisputably talented actors, it's quite the shameful accomplishment that every performance is over-the-top and affected with hysterically pretentious theatrics. The costume design, in all its gaudy grandeur, has not the slightest semblance of practicality -- all the knights just lounge around in shiny polished full body armor, while the caricatured buffoon Merlin wizards a meticulously tattered yet pristine jet black robe and nifty platinum skull cap. The production-design is like sets from a cheap stage play. If some trees seem to appear legit, I'm gonna go ahead and just credit nature and God for their surely accidental inclusion within this vulgar vomit. The usually great Alex Thompson's cinematography is all gauzy and unnatural light, with magical moments casting a nauseating "non-diegetic" neon green. At no time do any of the boringly vapid and across-the-board malevolent characters demonstrate a shred of rationality or principal to explain their lack thereof... the same is true for the filmmakers.I've heard the apologist excuse this clumsy pile of drivel because it was supposedly a revolutionary step forward for the fantasy genre in contemporary cinema. However this argument simply cannot hold water, when the fact that "Excalibur" arrived in the immediate wake of fantasy masterpieces like "The Empire Strikes Back" and "Conan The Barbarian" is taken into account. I could go on... but why? John "Borefest" Boorman's irredeemably tedious "Excalibur" is cheap, inane, inept, and flat-out awful.

This film should be seen, as it has good things about it. However trying to cram into a couple of hours the whole story of the king Arthur, shows up the film's limitations. There is simply far too much to tell, and looking at today's dramas like game of thrones, it simply looks dated. There is a quality T V series waiting to be made about the complete Arthurian legend, on the scale of game of Thrones, with a colossal world wide audience of millions and millions. I have yet to see a proper film of the Arthurian legend, having read the Lancing Green book as a kid. What I liked about the book was there was so much of a story to be told, and if it had to be re made as a film, there would need to be at least three.

it is not easy to say why.and the explanation is the last detail for look for. maybe because it remains the most inspired adaptation of a story to well known.but the cause remains always a must define. and it could be, maybe , the mix of Wagner, kitsch and late romanticism. for acting. and for tension. for the great poetry of image. or , only, for the memories about a fresco about a time as fruit of myths. Excalibur remains unique. and this is the only important thing for define it. as a seductive show. maybe, as an experience. about fascination for an ambiguous past. and refuge in a world who seems out of each form of illusion. or reality.