If it's January, it must be time for another Nicolas Cage film. The actor is quickly surpassing Robin Williams and Robert DeNiro in the "never turning down a script/gotta pay the bills" career choices, and Season of the Witch is his seventh title in the last two years -- with at least three more on the way in 2011. While still capable of being quite effective (he was great as Big Daddy in Kick-Ass and as the titular rogue in Werner Herzog's reinterpretation of Bad Lieutenant), it seems that, recently, all he's been doing is adding his dwindling Oscar cred to a series of subpar projects.
Cage's latest, a scattered period piece centering on the supernatural and the Dark Ages, definitely has its moments. It's not as bad as the vomit-inducing Van Helsing, but it definitely suffers from many of the same 'good vs. evil' idiocy.
Two otherwise honorable knights -- Behmen (Nicolas Cage) and Felson (Ron Perlman) -- decide that slaughtering heathens in the name of God is not why they signed up for The Crusades. Going AWOL, they are discovered in a plague-ridden city run by a dying Cardinal (Christopher Lee). Given a chance to avoid the penalty for treason, they agree to transport a woman accused of being a witch (Claire Foy) to a mountain top monastery, there to be tried for her crimes.
With the help of a naive altar boy (Robert Sheehan), a con artist guide (Stephen Graham), a grieving warrior (Ulrich Thomsen) and a secretive priest (Stephen Campbell Moore), they cage the gal and head off on the unruly, disease-soaked landscape. Along the way, they learn that this young lady may indeed be the reason behind all the black death. Once they get on the road, however, they discover that she might be much, much more.
If only Season of the Witch weren't so boring. If only director Dominic Sena had found a way to mix a little Army of Darkness snark into this otherwise somber spook show. Sure, Cage and Perlman banter back and forth like non-erotic male companions in a screwball comedy, but it's not enough to wipe the stain of self-righteous seriousness off this mess. From the moment Behmen and Felson have their war crime epiphany to the trailer-spoiled arrival of a demon, our stars joke while everything else around them sounds like bad lessons in indistinct dogma. Before we know it, wolves are shape-shifting, wounds are oozing, and our heroes are attacked by zombie clergy. Should be a hoot, right?
It's not. One of the biggest problems with Season of the Witch is its inability to decide on a tone. Cage and Perlman believe they are making one kind of movie. Everyone else signed up for a dull dissertation on witchcraft and Satan. The supporting players don't help, each one given their mechanical role in the routine plotting before seeing their predetermined cinematic fate sealed. And then there is Ms. Foy, perhaps the most underwhelming spell-caster this side of Sabrina. She never comes across as a real threat. Instead, she is given little to do except look helpless and snicker. How horrifying!
A kitschy, camp quality might have helped. Instead, Season of the Witch waffles and then withers. Gods and monsters just shouldn't be this stuffy and stilted -- and to make matters worse, the anticlimactic ending is a mangled mishmash of theology and fake theatrics. Calling up the fires of Hell should really be more fun. While not the worst film in Cage's recent rash of paycheck opportunities, it is indicative of how far the once mighty have now fallen...and it's far.
Cage's latest, a scattered period piece centering on the supernatural and the Dark Ages, definitely has its moments. It's not as bad as the vomit-inducing Van Helsing, but it definitely suffers from many of the same 'good vs. evil' idiocy.
Two otherwise honorable knights -- Behmen (Nicolas Cage) and Felson (Ron Perlman) -- decide that slaughtering heathens in the name of God is not why they signed up for The Crusades. Going AWOL, they are discovered in a plague-ridden city run by a dying Cardinal (Christopher Lee). Given a chance to avoid the penalty for treason, they agree to transport a woman accused of being a witch (Claire Foy) to a mountain top monastery, there to be tried for her crimes.
With the help of a naive altar boy (Robert Sheehan), a con artist guide (Stephen Graham), a grieving warrior (Ulrich Thomsen) and a secretive priest (Stephen Campbell Moore), they cage the gal and head off on the unruly, disease-soaked landscape. Along the way, they learn that this young lady may indeed be the reason behind all the black death. Once they get on the road, however, they discover that she might be much, much more.
If only Season of the Witch weren't so boring. If only director Dominic Sena had found a way to mix a little Army of Darkness snark into this otherwise somber spook show. Sure, Cage and Perlman banter back and forth like non-erotic male companions in a screwball comedy, but it's not enough to wipe the stain of self-righteous seriousness off this mess. From the moment Behmen and Felson have their war crime epiphany to the trailer-spoiled arrival of a demon, our stars joke while everything else around them sounds like bad lessons in indistinct dogma. Before we know it, wolves are shape-shifting, wounds are oozing, and our heroes are attacked by zombie clergy. Should be a hoot, right?
It's not. One of the biggest problems with Season of the Witch is its inability to decide on a tone. Cage and Perlman believe they are making one kind of movie. Everyone else signed up for a dull dissertation on witchcraft and Satan. The supporting players don't help, each one given their mechanical role in the routine plotting before seeing their predetermined cinematic fate sealed. And then there is Ms. Foy, perhaps the most underwhelming spell-caster this side of Sabrina. She never comes across as a real threat. Instead, she is given little to do except look helpless and snicker. How horrifying!
A kitschy, camp quality might have helped. Instead, Season of the Witch waffles and then withers. Gods and monsters just shouldn't be this stuffy and stilted -- and to make matters worse, the anticlimactic ending is a mangled mishmash of theology and fake theatrics. Calling up the fires of Hell should really be more fun. While not the worst film in Cage's recent rash of paycheck opportunities, it is indicative of how far the once mighty have now fallen...and it's far.
