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| Samuel L. Jackson and Alexander Skarsgard |
The Legend of
Tarzan is a wee bit different from your typical 21st century blockbuster and for that,
to be honest, I am quite grateful. It’s an old-fashioned kind of movie that
made me nostalgic for the films my 10-year-old self would go and see with my
father. A briskly constructed, efficiently told, thud and blunder adventure
which does pretty much what it says on the tin.
If I had been sitting in The Princes in Springburn
watching this 50 years ago I would have been pretty happy. As it is, half a
century on, I’m still reasonably content with an entertaining slice of hokum.
I’m a big Edgar Rice Burroughs (ERB) fan in
general and a Tarzan fan in particular; one of my fondest possessions is a 1920
edition of Tarzan of the Apes, the
first novel in the series. I read all the ERB books I could get hold of and
even though I enjoyed the Mars and Pellucidar stories, Tarzan was always my
favourite.
I’ve also seen all of the Tarzan movies and the TV
show and I appreciate the way this version roots itself in ERB’s world. It’s
not the traditional origin story – although you can’t not touch on that –
instead we are in a tale that owes as much to Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar as it does Tarzan of the Apes.
There are other nods too, such as the presence of
the Mangani; these are the great apes who raised the young John Clayton. And
there is also the famous Tarzan yell. Sensibly it happens off screen here
because I always thought it looked faintly ridiculous.
The story begins with Tarzan and his wife, Jane,
having left the jungle and taken up his ancestral home in Greystoke Manor. The
British government, in a diplomatic tussle with Belgium over the future of the
Congo and its mineral rights, want Tarzan to accept an invitation from the
Belgian king to go on a fact-finding mission to the area.
Lord Greystoke is not a diplomat but, in a nice
nod to contemporary culture, Tarzan is a celebrity so of course it makes sense
that he should go. The whole thing is a trap, naturally, orchestrated by the
evil Leon Rom who has agreed to deliver Tarzan into the hands of his sworn
enemy in return for the fabulous jewels of the Lost City of Opar. Well d’uh!
The outcome of the film is never in doubt but with
stories like this it is the journey rather than the destination which is
important. The Legend of Tarzan makes
all the right stops; Tarzan himself is built like an athlete not a bodybuilder,
Jane is suitably independent, the villain is appropriately dastardly, and
Samuel L. Jackson turns up as the film’s post-colonial conscience.
The Legend
of Tarzan is also the first film to suggest why Tarzan is Lord of the
Jungle. He has a sense of majesty and what the Romans called imperium. He doesn’t
talk to the animals but he has a natural authority but more importantly an empathic
understanding which encourages them to help.
All of this leads to some very satisfying set
pieces, even if the CGI is a little overdone in places. Alexander Skarsgard is
a splendid Tarzan and Margot Robbie a Jane who is more than a damsel waiting to
be rescued. Few people do dastardly better than Christoph Waltz and it’s nice
to see Samuel L. Jackson commit to a character for a change instead of one of
his stock collections of characteristics.
At 110 minutes the film is positively sylph-like
compared to the modern bloated blockbuster. There is also a very obvious
attempt to make this version family-friendly with most of the overt violence
removed; the result is a film that at times goes from brisk to choppy thanks to
the editing style.
I didn’t mind that too much to be honest. I am
reconciled to the fact that this probably won’t kick off a franchise but I am
perfectly content with what they have served up here.
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