THE BROTHERS LIONHEART
A film review by John Walker
Copyright 1993 John Walker
Screenplay: Astrid Lindgren
Director: Olle Helbom
Music: Bjorn Isfalt, Lasse Dahlberg
Copyright 1977, AB Svensk Filmindustri
Dubbed, video version, Almi TV Production, Pacific Arts Video.
Running time in the 1992 Suncoast video catalog is listed at 120
minutes. The version I rented (also Pacific Arts) was at
least 10 minutes shorter.
My form of "rating": If it were first run, I'd try to see it at
least a couple of times at standard prices, and again more at
the dollar shows. I'll *try* to buy the tape. (See note
below.)
<>
THE BROTHERS LIONHEART is a moving, exciting--and
entrancing--Swedish film for children. It's about the adventures of
two brothers--one no more than ten, the other no more than twenty--as
they fight tyranny and evil in another world.
At points, its production values may lessen the impact for some.
Its cinematic approach may weaken its impact for others. Some parents,
however, may be wary that it will have too *great* an impact on some
kids--which might have happened in the case of at least one alleged
grown-up. (You'll have to read the spoiler at the end to fully see
what I mean, though.)
Warning: Ultimately, this film can be accused of being--dare I say
it?--*sweet*. Watching it, some of you would spend a fair amount of
time writhing on the floor, gagging.
Good--you can use the exercise.
Note on purchasing: The Suncoast catalog listed this at $14.95, but the
local store told me today that it had been dropped. I'm going to have to
hope they find a copy in the warehouse or try to track down the
distributor.
<>
Astrid Lindgren is the author of the Pippi Longstocking tales,
about a "magical miss," pig-tailed and freckle-faced. Well, after
seeing THE BROTHERS LIONHEART, for which Lindgren wrote the
screenplay, I have begun to wonder whether the Pippi Longstocking tales
are quite the simple stories of pluck and independence I have heard
about.
However, the box cover says that this is from a book by her that
is quite different from the Pippi tales. (I'm going to have to get
hold of the book.)
The blurb on the cover makes it seem that this will be a nice
straightforward fantasy adventure for kids.
The brothers Lion--Karl and Jonathan--travel from our
world through mythical valleys with monsters to match,
and turn into the Brothers Lionheart.
(Don't look for it in Scheuer or Maltin's descriptions of films.
It seems to be video-only in the U.S.)
The story begins in a Swedish city some time, judging from the one
automobile shown, in the 19-teens. That we're in for something a bit
different from the blurb is indicated in the first minutes of the
film. In voiceover, Karl (nicknamed "Crispy") Lion (Lejon) introduces
himself and his brother Jonathan (Jonatan), and tells us that "It was
the day I learned I had to die soon."
(Assuming that "Skorpan" is the Swedish for the English "Crispy,"
then Crispy is played by Lars Soderdahl. Staffan Gotestam plays
Jonathan. [Umlaut above the "o" in each name.])
Karl is the younger brother and something is killing him, leaving
him coughing all the time. We're never told what it is, but not much
more than five minutes after telling that he has to die, Crispy will
report *Jonathan's* death. When their house catches fire, he's killed
jumping from the upper floor saving Crispy.
Crispy's hope is that Jonathan told him truly about "Nangeola."
(Someone more familiar with Swedish myth may wish to correct my
spelling of Nangeola. I'm flying on pronunciation alone--it's a hard
"g", could be a "k".)
What's wrong, Crispy? Why are you upset?
Brother Jonathan, you know I'm going to die?
Yes. Yes, I know.
'Tisn't fair. It's horrible--that anyone has to *die*
before the age of *ten*.
You know what, Crispy? I don't think it's all *that*
horrible.
Of course it's horrible--buried under all of that earth.
It's only the *outside* of you lying down there. What's
inside of you flies away to another land, somewhere *else*.
Where to?
To Nangeola.
Nangeola?
That is, somewhere beyond the farthest star. It's the
land of fairy tales, and songs 'round the fire. Nothing but
exciting things go on all of the day. It won't be like here
at all. Lying in bed, sick and coughing all the time, right?
In Nangeola, you'll be fine and healthy.
Less than ten minutes from the beginning, the film turns from
sepia-tone to color, and Crispy awakens in Nangeola--how long after
Jonathan's death, we don't know.
This is all done speedily, straightforwardly, and economically.
The lives and deaths of Jonathan and Karl are just a prelude. But for
American audiences, this isn't the usual way to get the heroes from the
mundane world to their adventure.
And Nangeola is *not* heaven. Jonathan and Crispy have landed in
Cherry Valley; and yes, it does seem like a pre-Christian description
of the afterlife. It's a medieval-looking world, sunny and beautiful.
Crispy's healthy and fit now. He can swim, and he knows how to ride
horses.
But across the hills is Wild Rose Valley, and it is under the rule
of Tengil, "from the land of ancient mountains," and his black
knights. (I've lost the name of the actor playing Tengil, but he looks
strangely like Buster Keaton--but devoid of all humor or lightness,
never speaking aloud.)
Jonathan will be something of an underground leader, trying to
rescue Orva, Wild Rose Valley's leader. Crispy will follow Jonathan,
and there will be bloodshed and that monster.
<>
Well, if that's a quick sketch of what's in store, how do we
evaluate THE BROTHERS LIONHEART?
To begin, let's take those things that I think will weaken its
impact for some audiences. First, the production values, the
technology.
The filmmakers make extensive of real settings, so the only real
glitch is the monster. High-tech, this isn't. Early GODZILLA is
more like it. But they don't overdo the monster, and it's not too much
to ask that we slightly suspend our demand for technological
perfection.
(A trivial note is that I found Jonathan's thick head of hair to
seem like a wig. But I had the same response to a kid at college.
Some hair styles just don't seem real to me.)
Perhaps more distancing will be the cinematic approach itself.
This is *Swedish*, after all. Take the popular image of a film by
Ingmar Bergman; pretend that he decided to do an exciting, upbeat film
for kids. Well, there'll be a certain *ambiguity* there, won't there?
Scenes of people at a great distance, with their voices floating
to us out of nowhere--even if we like the inheritance from silents,
it's not what we expect from a kids' flick.
(Parenthetically, it makes dubbing a lot more natural. On the big
screen, I prefer subtitles, so I can hear the real voices. If the
picture holds me, I quickly combine the two. On the small screen, and
for kids, I suspect dubbing is lot more practical. I noticed it only a
few times. The speakers deliver things in a lovely Swedish accent,
learned apparently from teachers speaking clipped British English.
Unfortunately, I didn't see any credits.)
<>
On its own merits, however, the unexpected approach is one of the
virtues of THE BROTHERS LIONHEART. It does not so much tell a
story--although it does that, and well--as it weaves an image, a feel.
If we're willing simply to sit back and let it work, it will carry us
along.
The music works in much the same way. It sounds like a hurdy
gurdy, a street organ (popular in the 'teens), with some electronic
accompaniment. (If that sound isn't familiar, an old squeeze-box is
not too unlike it.) The theme is short, modified and repeated over and
over again--not somber, not jolly, sort of minimalist, lending to more
than one feel. It hovers in the background sometimes, then swells over
the scenes where there's no dialogue and we see things at a distance.
The characterizations fit in with the sense of "feel." We see
little recognizable "magic" in Nangeola. People behave the way people
behave, and they have to trudge through to reach their goals. Crispy
does not become a magical hero-child. I certainly have no objection to
the magical hero-child, that's not what this film is about. Crispy
does what is reasonable for a nine-year-old. He's fit and healthy, but
he's still Crispy.
Soderdahl brings it off well. He has a kiddish sort of frown that
seems to tell of both perplexity and a certain stubborness: things are
obviously beyond him, but he's called upon to play his part and he
will. I don't know how much to credit the dubbing, and I don't know
how Soderdahl would do in other roles, but here he seems perfectly
fitted to the character he's playing.
Gotestam, as his brother, has a harder acting task. He plays a
real, but rather stainless hero. I found him most effective in the
scenes where he was close to his brother. At times, the hero role was
just a bit too "written" rather than "spoken." More than once I
wondered if this was replaying some myth, which Swedish audiences would
find familiar. (Contrariwise, the references to the Wild Rose Valley
people's conducting a "resistance" effort sounded too modern. Both
points may owe something to Lindgren's original book.)
Neither actor, by the way, is quite the model that an American
film company might choose. Attractive and appealing, but more like
Central Casting had to get two kids out of a real neighborhood, rather
than having all of New York or L.A.'s acting community at its
disposal.
<>
So far, I think any objections to the film are really objections
to cinematic considerations. You want a high-tech monster, you ain't
gonna get it. You don't like the basic way of doing things, you're
gonna have problems with the flick.
But many kids are perfectly able to slip into and out of the
reverie that is perhaps a necessary part of watching a film like this.
They're probably more flexible in their demands.
But since this is billed as a *kids'* flick, I start thinking of
*parents*. What about the values that the film assumes or encourages?
What *does* the film encourage?
Looking at the action, there is little to criticize: The
characters are moved by loyalty, generosity, love of freedom, love of
kin and country.
Jonathan explains that he must go to Wild Rose Valley to try to
rescue Orva; Crispy doesn't want him to go. Jonathan has to; he is
second in command to the woman who leads the resistance. She's known
by everyone:
Tengil's offered, for the capture of her, dead or alive,
some 15 purebred horses as a reward.
And what's the reward for capturing *you*! Do you have
to do these things when you know they're dangerous?
Crispy, there are some things a man has to do, in spite
of danger.
Why should *you*?
Because if you didn't, you wouldn't be a man at all.
You'd be a little weed.
That's a theme Crispy will repeat again and again: "I won't be a
little *weed*." Certainly an idea many would find laudable.
<>
But, being somewhat paranoid about what some American parents are
worried about, I should note a "sensational" aspect: There's a *nude
scene*!
(Those of you who have seen the movie will *please* not guffaw
*too* loudly.)
The hyper among us may regard this scene as symptomatic of
"Swedish looseness." Just after Crispy arrives in Nangeola, he and
Jonathan fall into the water. Then we have a short scene as they're
sitting by the pond bank fishing, their clothes drying on a tree. It's
all at a distance and no strategic geography is visible to answer any
questions of kid sisters who have not yet been educated on such
details. Nonetheless, I note it for the record.
I found the scene quite touching--as I found practically all of
the interaction between Crispy and Jonathan. My own experience in
communicating with a ten-years-distant sibling was rather less
successful!
The thing I'm strangely afraid of is that in the United States
some conservative parents may focus too much on something like
skinny-dipping.
(I recall that THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST drew fire from
certain quarters because the film pictured Christ as having been
*tempted* by the prospect of sex with Mary Magdalene--even though
*rejecting* the temptation. Those same folks seemed not to object that
it pictured Christ as actually *committing* sin in non-sexual cases.)
Indeed, I worry that some parents might at least *think* about
partial nudity (even to approve of it) while missing something else
more subtle going on here--something about which I myself am
ambiguous.
<>
Remember, they had to *die* to get here.
From a Christian (or Jewish, or Moslem) perspective, there has to
be a certain hesitation about a film that posits a pagan view of the
afterlife. And even a New Ager might be uneasy about encouraging too
"easy" an attitude towards death.
That the film is quietly entrancing may be a virtue for viewing as
an adult. It may be quite otherwise when you're thinking about your
kids watching it.
As a kid, I saturated myself in science fiction and fantasy. But
I can't recall anything that simply wove so sure a web around me that
was posited on *death* as the gate to the world of adventure.
Also, I come from a place where the idea of a kid's being "a
dreamer" carries with it the idea that he won't live past twenty. If I
had a kid, and he was "a dreamer," I'd bloody well prep him on this
film before I plugged it into the VCR. That may be Irish-American
superstition. Tough, I'd talk about the film first.
<>
So, to the extent I have doubts about THE BROTHERS LIONHEART, I
think they reflect the *effectiveness* of the film. It can entrance
those of who will let it do its work. It's touching in places,
exciting in others, and has a clear "reality" throughout.
Beyond that, and to look into my doubts a bit more, I have to get
into the spoilers that follow (and which include a spoiler on the film
RADIO FLYER).
<>
Above, I said that death is the gate to Nangeola. Not totally
comfy on its own.
(It might be less non-comfy if I knew Swedish mythology.)
But the end of the film makes the point even stronger. The battle
against Tengil is won, Jonathan gets hold of the horn that controls the
monster--the dragon Katla. He follows her back to her lair, and she
is killed. But she's scorched him, and now he can't move his legs.
Soon he won't be able to move at all.
His only hope, he tells Crispy, is to get to Nangolema--the world
beyond Nangeola. Their horses are there, it is only their outer bodies
that now lie outside the dragon's lair. So is Mattias, their sort of
adopted grandfather, who was killed in Wild Rose Valley.
Jonathan asks,
Do you remember the fire, how it blazed? And we jumped,
the two of us, with you on my shoulders. And there we were in
Nangeola.
Yes. I won't forget that.
I wonder--if we could jump again like that--both of
us--from way up on that mountain.
Will we be in Nangolema then? You think--we can jump all
the way to Nangolema?
...
Jonathan, I'll help you get there. You did it for me, no?
I must do it for you now.
You're sure you're strong enough, Crispy Lionheart?
Yes. If I sit here with you, it'll be dark quite soon.
I'll be brave. I must be, or I'm just a little weed.
Crispy Lionheart. Are you scared?
No--although--but I'll do it though. Then I'll know. I
won't ever be scared again. Look Jonathan! Jonathan,
Nangolema! I can see the light now! I can see the light!
*We*, however, do *not* see Nangolema. Instead, we see just the
fire light, and beginning to shine through it, a sculpture of two doves
flying; as the camera pulls back, we see it's on a grave stone. And a
voice we've never heard before reads the inscription.
Here lie the brothers Jonathan and Karl Lion
Till the dawn of another day
<>
Good Lord! What are we seeing? Are we seeing merely what we
would see in Sweden? Are we being told that while they have gone from
us here, that "another day" has already dawned in Nangolema?
Or is there no Nangolema? Shall they die *now*? Is Jonathan
effectively asking Crispy to commit suicide?
Or is there no Nangolema because there is no *Nangeola*? Is the
grave all that is real? Has the whole story been Crispy's last dream
before dying?
<>
As the step to Nangolema, the ending is logical and triumphant.
As an open end--where we don't know for sure that Nangolema is
there, but it might well be, the ending is essentially wistful. As an
unwitting plea for suicide, it becomes incomprehensible.
As Crispy's last dream, it becomes heart-wrenching. He has had
his day in the sun, even if only imaginary. Only by finally facing
death, and somehow accepting the doubtfulness of it all, is he ready to
die. It is an eerie counterpoint to the triumphant ending.
Some might say that a comparable ending appeared in RADIO FLYER.
It shows the younger hero racing a home-made contraption down a steep
hill, soaring off a shed roof that acts like a ski-jump, and actually
*flying* his machine--escaping from an abusive situation. Some have
said that this is merely a metaphor or a cover for his dying in the
attempt.
I am one of those who says that he actually flew his contraption
because that's what *appeared on the screen*. He escaped. He was
free--not dead. I can point to *the screen* to back that up. And in a
film, that's where we've got to look.
I am one of those who wants Nangolema to be there. The story
demands it. But in this film, I don't have the screen to back me up.
Ultimately, the screen is silent. If I wish, the screen can
merely repeat what I have been told about events in that Swedish city
in the 19-teens. But Jonathan had told me that Nangolema, like
Nangeola, is there; Crispy has told me so also. If I wish to believe
them, I can do so.
So also, if I wish to render the whole film a dream before death,
I can do so. The gravestone is there.
And if I wish to be in doubt, I can do so.
This is a kids' flick?
John Walker, walkerj@digex.com
.
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