THE NAVIGATOR: A MEDIEVAL ODYSSEY
A film review by Shane R. Burridge
Copyright 1996 Shane R. Burridge
The Navigator: A Medieval Odyssey (1988) 92m.
New Zealand director Vincent Ward had some difficulty getting this, his second feature, off the ground despite critical acclaim for his debut VIGIL. Story is seen through the eyes of Griffin (Hamish McFarlane, who does too much earnest yelling for my liking), a boy living in an isolated, snowbound village in 14th-century Cumbria. His older brother Connor (Bruce Lyons) has just returned home to bring news of the plague decimating the surrounding lands. Fearing the wrath of God, an expedition is sent from the village to place, by way of an offering, a cross atop a church on `the far side of the Earth' (New Zealand). Griffin claims he has already seen the journey (if not lived it) and serves as the party's navigator - although what he is navigating is not only space but also time and consciousness.
Ward jumps the gap of six hundred years and the distance of half a planet assuredly, but his unfixed narrative, interrupted by repetitious flashbacks (which, since Griffin is using them to map their future path, are simultaneously flashforwards), is less comfortable. This is a film based on an idea: Ward has a beginning and an ending, but no strong narrative meat in the middle. The party's odyssey is over before it can reach the epic quality of a true odyssey. THE NAVIGATOR does not concern itself much with the spirit of adventure (which would serve this particular story well) but instead sticks to the more appropriately medieval doom-laden concerns of God, death, and prophecy. I'm glad at least that Ward didn't turn his time-travel story into the kind of culture-shock cliche that depends almost entirely on anachronism gags. I also like the way he keeps the nameless city (ostensibly Auckland) deserted and empty of all activity save that of the machines and vehicles that prowl the shadows like nocturnal scavengers. His approach reinforces the notion that everything Griffin is seeing is a dream (it's like an ultra-sober WIZARD OF OZ - it's even bookended with black and white sequences and features a journey to a magical city), but what prevents us from dismissing his story as imaginary is the accuracy of his visions. Griffin sees highways, television, a submarine, and even a glimpse of a second potential apocalypse - the 20th century's nuclear update of the plague. This is Ward's nod to New Zealand's strong anti-nuclear stance at the time, one which did not find favor with the US military and caused much public debate.
Film has ambition and imagination, but still appears incomplete. You might come out of this feeling that something is lacking. But you have to admire Ward for sticking to his vision and producing something other than the black comedies and urban/rural `social' dramas that had the NZ film industry in a stranglehold. His keen visual eye and deft smoke-and-mirrors approach proves that a real director can still make a class act out of a modest budget.
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