Silly but fun '10,000
B.C.' follows a well-trodden trail into the Stone
Age
Came
a time, saith the old tales, when the great ice sheets
retreated and early man advanced upon the earth —
a new man, named Homo Hollywoodus for the stylishness
of his dreadlocks (extensions by Trog) and for the
perfection of the teeth of his women (caps by Dr.
Gnar of Beverly Hills). And, lo, these new people
did hunt the woolly mammoth and the ‘‘spear-toothed’’
tiger and did follow much too closely the plot laid
down by the great shaman Mel Gibson in ‘‘Apocalypto.’’
And they did call this new movie ‘‘10,000
B.C.,’’ and it was awfully dopey but also
kind of fun.
Now, verily, there have been earlier sagas of Homo
Hollywoodus, notably ‘‘One Million B.C.’’
in 1940 and ‘‘One Million Years B.C.’’
in 1966, and they, too, did figure beautiful cavewomen
with good skin and non-period cleavage. But I said
to you that ‘‘10,000 B.C.’’
is not a remake except in silliness of spirit, and
I also say to you that I have looked upon Camilla
Belle as Evolet and can say that, yea, she ain’t
no Raquel Welch.
But let us talk of brave men: D’Leh (Steven
Strait), a hunter of the Yagahl tribe in the remotest
mountaintops, where only the mammoths come, of reasonably
convincing computer-graphic aspect. His name, say
the marketing gods, is the German word for ‘‘hero’’
spelled backward, so does that not indeed make it
so? With the coming of four-legged demons from the
south — suspiciously Arabic marauders on horseback
foreseen by Old Mother (Mona Hammond) — the
blue-eyed Evolet is taken prisoner along with others
of the Yagahl, and D’Leh waxeth wroth, for he
loves Evolet even more than his white spear. (Which
is a totem of power, so getteth thy mind out of the
gutter.)
And thus a band of manly men set forth on a heroic
quest, among them D’Leh, the aging warrior Tic’Tic
(Cliff Curtis), whose name causeth much giggling in
the audience, the young rival Ka’Ren (Mo Zinal),
and Baku (Nathanael Baring), hereafter known as The
Kid. And, verily, the earth’s continents must
have been closer together, since it was possible in
those days to travel from snowy peaks to jungle rainforests
to barren desert sands as if these climes were no
farther apart than subway stops.
And
it should be noted, too, that the Yagahl speak English
in stiff archaic fashion, much as I am writing, and
that the African tribes encountered by them speak
an ancient movie tongue called Oogabooga. And if you
say, fie, this cannot be, I say woe betide he who
cometh to such a film expecting paleoanthropological
accuracy or political correctness, for he will returneth
home sorely vexed and out 500 bucks.
Now you will look upon this movie and say, critic,
it is a bad movie. How can it not be so when our hero
falls into a pit of sharpened stakes and striketh
none and indeed befriends a trapped saber-toothed
tiger — he of massive but bogus CGI —
by speaking gently unto it?
How can a film that features a poorly shot attack
by giant tree-climbing killer chickens be said to
be good? Which rippeth off the ending of ‘‘Apocalypto,’’
pyramid and all, such that the great shaman Mel Gibson
could sue?
And I saith to you, verily, it is a bad movie, with
foolish racial politics, and indeed it may someday
be spoken of as the worst of the year 2008. But I
also saith to you that I had a strangely good time,
and whether that is from laughing at ‘‘10,000
B.C.’’ or laughing with it I knoweth not,
although I strongly suspect the former.
And it should be pointed out that Roland of the clan
of Emmerich, who hath fashioned this tale, hath not
ascended once more to the level of ‘‘Independence
Day’’ but hath instead settled comfortably
in the Valley of the Saturday Matinee B-Movie, a land
once inhabited by giants named Roger Corman and 1950s
special-effects magician Ray Harryhausen, whom the
giant killer chickens doth seem to honor in their
stop-motion jerkiness.
So, yea, it is a stinker. But it is prophesied that
in six months time you shall come across ‘‘10,000
B.C.’’ in the land of Pay-Per-View. And
you shall say: ‘‘Pass the popcorn.’’