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D&D puts the "Duh!" in dungeons

by Chris Neal

When we first see Jeremy Irons in Dungeons & Dragons, his eyebrows are brushed skyward with flair, which can only signify one thing—evil.

That's the sort of thing one thinks about while trying to make it through a movie like Dungeons & Dragons—an execrable pile of cowflop, by the way, which you should avoid at all costs. But in case you are, say, kidnapped by the evil scientists from Mystery Science Theater 3000 and forced to watch it, here are some other subjects to ponder while waiting for your opportunity to escape:

Does Jeremy Irons need the money this badly? Our Mr. Irons—who once won an Oscar, incidentally—plays Profion, an evil Mage who's just dying to take over Izmer, a kingdom (half stone, half CGI) currently run by the young egalitarian Empress Savina (Thora Birch). To do so, he sends his blue-lipsticked lackey, Damodar (Bruce Payne), to fetch a scepter which will control red dragons, which are more powerful than green dragons, which are controlled by the scepter the empress has, which Profion also wants. Got all that? Attempting to thwart Profion's plan are the hero (Justin Whalin), his bug-eyed stereotype—uh, I mean sidekick (Marlon Wayans), a young magician (Zoe McLellan), a foxy elf (Kristen Wilson), and a dwarf (Lee Arenberg). The latter does absolutely nothing, but at one point discourses colorfully on the difference between sex with elves and sex with dwarves, which will give the movie's target audience of 11-year-old boys something to think about when they aren't gaping at Wilson's anatomically-correct breastplate.

Anyway, while waiting to cash his check, Irons apparently amused himself by trying to determine precisely how maniacally he could laugh and how much scenery he could chew—which, in turn, may explain why you can't understand half of what he says. Did I mention he has an Oscar?

Who are the filmmakers, and why would they do this to us? After screenwriters Topper Lilien and Carroll Cartwright came up with their arcane plot, they seem to have taken the rest of the day off. The dialogue is gratingly inane, and several of the actors (I'm talking to you, Bruce Payne) insist on elongating and e-nun-ci-a-ting each consonant in a way that really gives you time to analyze its decrepitude. Whalin, at one point, is made to drop to his knees and scream "Nooooooooo!!!!!" I am not making this up.

First-time director Courtney Solomon often insists on pointing the camera away from the action in favor of long reaction shots, an innovative technique that should never be used again, by anyone.

Where have I seen this before? Although ostensibly adapted from the classic role-playing game, much of Dungeons & Dragons is in fact cribbed from other movies. Among the items stolen: the cantina scene from Star Wars; the Ewok village from Return of the Jedi; a Vulcan mind-meld from Star Trek; and—in a 10-minute tour de force of thievery unparalleled in modern film—one scene apiece from each Indiana Jones movie. Even the Indiana Jones films have sources of inspiration—specifically, the adventure serials of the 1940s—but there is homage, and then there is lazy larceny.

What the hell is up with Marlon Wayans? If you were disturbed at all by The Phantom Menace's Jar Jar Binks, you'll have nightmares about Wayans. His character, Snails, is the most cartoonish, squealing, inept Stepin Fetchit to come down the pike since...well, since Stepin Fetchit. After Wayans' first line of dialogue, I half-expected him to bust out with a "Yassuh, Mista Benny!" for good measure.

Attempting to discern why Wayans chose to take this tack with his portrayal is perversely entertaining, but ultimately depressing. This abomination is even more tragic when compared to Wayans' searing performance in Requiem for a Dream, a galvanizing star turn hinting at untapped wells of talent.

If these topics don't keep your mind occupied, try considering why Thora Birch, stunning in American Beauty, here struggles through her lines like she's in a high-school play; why the utterly non-charismatic and uninteresting Whalin was cast as the lead, leaving a gaping hole where the movie's hero should be; why McLellan's character uses her magic twice when we first meet her, then seems to forget all about it when she's in real peril; why the filmmakers can afford lavish computer-generated hoo-ha, but can't get decent fake ears for the elf; and why there are dragons, but not one damn dungeon. As to the ending—and I dare you to make it that far—I'll give a crisp, new one dollar bill to anyone who can tell me what the hell that was supposed to mean.

So many questions. But if anyone asks if you'd care to see this muck, there's only one answer: Just say no.

  December 14, 2000 * Vol. 10, No. 50
© 2000 Metro Pulse