The Sword in the Stone (1963)

The Sword in the Stone is Disney’s classic, though heavily revised take on the legend of King Arthur and his mystical guiding hand, the wizard Merlin. Released in 1963 after being assembled piecemeal over the previous two decades, it was the last animated film released by the studio before Walt Disney’s death in 1966 and also the first to include the music of the Sherman brothers, who would go on to write songs straight into the history books for other popular films such as Mary Poppins, The Jungle Book and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. 

Based on the first of four books by T.H. White (the series referred to collectively as The Once and Future King) and with a screenplay by Bill Peet (already established as a successful writer with the studio), the film tells the story of the young Arthur, known in this version as Wart, who defies the expectations of his foster family in becoming a pupil of the brilliant but frustrated Merlin, going on to fulfil the prophecy of the title and becoming the King of England. The action is primarily focused on the adventures and lessons imparted by the wizard, as Wart learns about the natural order and structures of the world and is eventually elevated to his destiny on the throne by a confluence of circumstances.

With only vague reference to the various legends and stories surrounding the character, Disney’s version of the Arthur myth is a joyful and distinctively postmodern romp through an England beset by a lack of sovereign government, complete with upjumped Lords and Knights with their eye on the throne, and also enough playful magic and philosophy to relate the tale in a way that is familiar, but still engaging for modern audiences. The wizard’s duel between Merlin and Madam Mim is particularly memorable, both for the animated sequences and the witty vigour of the script. 

At 79 minutes, The Sword in the Stone jostles along at a fine pace and leaves the viewer with a sense of wonder and general political awareness with regard to the foundation of Arthur’s reign and the character’s ongoing popularity in the realm of fantasy entertainment. Placed at about the midpoint of Disney’s animated oeuvre of the 20th Century, the film remains a classic of that medium and a fun exploration of the overall King Arthur legend. 

5/5

The Tracker (2002)

Rolf de Heer’s The Tracker is a film concerned with the idea of natural justice and the people who either rightly or wrongly take it upon themselves to see it administered. Shot in the Flinders Ranges in South Australia, the film is a stirring account of four men hunting a fifth, and the things that set them apart, as well as that which they inevitably have in common.

The first of multiple collaborations between de Heer and David Gulpilil, The Tracker begins with a painting of the Australian landscape, a convention that continues throughout the film and is mainly used to represent acts of brutal violence. This choice is clever not only in the way it spares the audience from any overt depiction of traumatic events, but also in helping to break the action up into segments which definitely assists the overall flow of the narrative. As the four men (two police, one deputised local and the eponymous protagonist) track an Aboriginal fugitive accused of murdering a white woman, they are often dwarfed by the landscape in beautiful wide photography which reflects their obvious dependence on one another and their understanding of the surrounding area. Gulpilil in the lead manages to convey power and humility in a subtle and genuinely magnetic performance.

Aside from the cinematography by Ian Jones, which also lingers on the gaze of each character as they traverse the land, the contemporary blues soundtrack (written by the director and regular collaborator Graham Tardif and sung by Australian stalwart Archie Roach) helps to propel the narrative in a direct way which never feels overdone and is yet another unconventional flourish that stays with you long after the final shot. With twists and turns throughout, all of these elements work together to create a formidable and powerful sense of reality within the film.

de Heer’s beautiful and confronting film is one that unfolds slowly and, at just over 90 minutes, is a powerhouse of economic and virtuosic filmmaking. Between the confident and astute direction and the performances of both Gulpilil and Gary Sweet (fantastic in his role as antagonist), The Tracker remains as gripping today as it would have been at the time of it’s release in 2002.

5/5

The King of Staten Island (2020)

Judd Apatow’s The King of Staten Island, written with Pete Davidson and Dave Sirus, is a fictionalised portrait of what Davidson says would have been his early twenties if he hadn’t found stand up comedy as a hobby and career with which he could steady himself and the angst he developed after losing his father at a young age. Similar to Apatow’s Funny People (which told a story that was weaved somewhat from the experiences of stars Seth Rogen and Adam Sandler), TKOSI is the closest the director has come to an homage to the 1970’s and 80’s filmmaking style of Woody Allen, with his own personal brand of gross out humour and ruminations on angry, often aimless young men thrown in to create what is his most mature and well drawn film since Knocked Up.

The story revolves around Scott (Davidson) who has entered his mid-twenties as a slacker with the issue of arrested development after losing his father at a young age in an accident as a firefighter. This element of the script feels very polished and much less self-serious than it could do, as Davidson’s father did in fact die as a firefighter in 9/11. Scott’s world is upended when his sister leaves home for college and his mother starts dating a single dad from the neighbourhood (Bill Burr in a well written and nuanced role), forcing him to evaluate his own trajectory in life and the things he wants from it. As Scott works through his own demons and begins to better understand the relationships and foundations of his life, he’s joined by an exceptional supporting cast (Marissa Tomei, Maude Apatow, Steve Buscemi) who each round out the ensemble and provide him with foils not only to spar with, but also to humanise him as a more realistic character and less a sketch drawn without greater substance, like the characters in Apatow’s feature debut The 40 Year Old Virgin.

The film isn’t perfect, with one plot point near the middle being somewhat tempestuously included in order to move things toward the climax, but overall the script and Apatow’s direction are tight enough to draw us into Scott’s suburban melodrama in a way that we don’t necessarily begrudge the clumsier moments along the way. Special mention must go to the cinematography of Robert Elswit, who imbues the film with a sometimes lofty sense of vagary and youth, and also the lead performance of Davidson. Without his charm and the depth that he brings to the role, this film quite simply wouldn’t hold up, nor be justified in it’s run time of over two hours.

Overall, The King of Staten Island produces mirth in abundance and pathos at the right times, assuring that Apatow remains the reigning auteur in the realm of slacker-stoner dramedy (Kevin Corrigan, I love you and I always will). Davidson’s work as a writer and actor is also encouraging in the hope that he’ll continue to develop as a performer and an intelligent vessel for audiences to flesh out their own humour and anxieties, whether they join him with a spliff or choose to remain sober.

4/5