Surely one of the greatest conundrums of the twentieth century is this: if movies set in the fantasy genre usually live or die on the lushness of their visuals and Ridley Scott is one of cinema’s greatest visualists hands down, then why the hell did Legend suck so bad when it pranced into theatres back in 1985? It’s a fair question, albeit not one that nostalgia-drugged fans of 80s sword and sorcery movies generally wants to hear, but whether it’s because Scott fell foul of studio’s capacious whims much in the same way he did with Blade Runner two years earlier (there’s currently are four versions of Legend doing the rounds with around three endings between them and at least two compleyely different scores), or it’s because the director became so enamored of the world he created that the plot and characterizations simply withered and died due to neglect, Legend remains something of a bizarre curiosity to this day. But, after many winters past, has time finally been kind to a movie that’s prioritized Tom Cruise’s lack of trousers and Tim Curry’s rubbery, demon trapezius muscles over any true substance?
The big-hearted Princess Lilli has been sneaking into the depths of the enchanted forests of her enchanted kingdom in order to slum it with Jack Of The Green, her woodland dwelling twentysomething crush who attempts to woo her by allowing her to lay her pretty eyes upon the most magical animals in creation, Unicorns. However, unbeknownst to these loved up, doe-eyed idiots, the demonic entity known as the Lord Of Darkness has commanded Blix, the most odious member of his goblin army, to track down and kill the horned stallions using Lilli’s innocence as bait and thus bemeing about an age of eternal darkness.
Blix successfully takes out the stallion with a poison dart and eventually drags the mere off in chains to be sacrificed by his master at a later date (no rush, eh?), but as a distraught Lilli follows them back to Darkness’ gothic bachelor pad, Jack is enlisted by androgynous, creaky voiced forrest elf Honeythorn Gump, petulant willow-the-wisp, Oona and a couple of Dwarves in order to save the Unicorn and lift the sudden ice age that has befallen the land.
While Jack and his band of weirdos fend off swamp witches, dungeon dwelling ogres and the fact that Jack is running around in in the dead of winter with his legs out, Darkness reveals himself as a little more horny than your average devil when he strives to woo and romance Lilli with a goth makeover and the promise of eternal power.
Can Jack rescue the last Unicorn and save the universe and has Lilli really been seduced by Darkness’ sick muscle tone into becoming a succubus of evil?
‘ve attempted to love Ridley Scott’s Legend for many years for the simple fact that his vision of a fantasy realm is absolutely stunning in a way that feels utterly faithful to inpenetrable European folklore that feels way more unpredictable than traditional, sanitized, American fare. There’s also the added bonus that some of the concepts the movie tries to nonchalantly put across as being mildly eccentric, actually turn out to be an endless stream of undiluted bonkers that’s just as likely to unintentionally amuse as it does beguile. For a start, Scott absolutely makes this lush, fantasy world an absolute nightmare for anyone with allergies as pollen visibly chokes the air in every daytime shot; a wayward dwarf wearing steampunk armour has a chicken claw for a hand for reasons that I’m assuming were edited out; Lilli is almost seduced to evil by dancing with a malicious dress that merges on her, mid-twirl, in a lighting quick change of outfit that would make Lady Gaga green with envy; our hero is attacked by a half-snake-half-witch named Meg Mucklebones who proceeds to respond to Jack’s terrified platitudes like a green, slimy cougar.
Simply put, Legend is completely and utterly off its fantasy tits – but for all of its visual chutzpah and staggeringly gorgeous visuals, it fails to connect on any level other that “oooooh, that’s pretty”. Its all well and good that you can literally pause any frame at any time and it could be a tripped out Jeffery Catherine Jones painting made flesh, but the fact that it’s utterly impossible to give a shit about out human characters. While Ferris Bueller’s Mia Sara, struggles to register when having to share the screen with the resplendent form of Tim Curry’s Darkness, Tom Cruise is so hideously miscast as a tree-hugging, pants-free hero who can talk to rabbits, it’s simply too distractingly funny for words. Watching him try to do that wide-eyed, Luke Skywalker shit is frankly painful and most likely the reason that the actor has mostly avoided varying his roles to this day.
Also, either due to studio meddling or the fact that Scott’s editing style stubbonly refuses to let the movie breathe and numerous, broad choices (everyone is dusted with more sparkly glitter than Edward Cullen sunbathing and actual, honest to god bubbles are pumped through the air during some scenes giving everything the feel of a shampoo ad) are more likely to produce eye rolling chuckles rather than genuine wonder.
However, when Legend shoves it’s more traditionally-shaped leads to the side and focuses fully on the inhuman cast, there’s barely another 80s fantasy film that can match it for sheer majesty. I’m primarily talking about Rob Bottin’s truly breathtaking makeup that transmogrifies Tim Curry into a muscled, preening, demon that has huge ebony horns erupting from his crimson skull and the actor, also responsible for Dr. Frankenfurter and Pennywise The Clown, fully takes this super beast to sneer town as he wraps his fangs around his villainous dialogue. Elsewhere, Bottin also provides Scott with stunning makeups for Meg (actually played by Bottin-regular Robert Picardo), Blix and numerous other creations that he dutifully photographs gorgeously.
However, while I’ll double down on what I said at the top of the review and stick by my statement that Legend is tough to love, its uncontrolled resplendence also makes it impossible for me to fully write it off either, its style simply too out there to ignore in good conscience. In a nutshell: no matter how much it annoys you, you just can’t stop ogling at the goddamn prettiness of the thing.
Regardless of your feelings, Legend is no Blade Runner, no Gladiator, no Black Hawk Down and is certainly no Alien either, but due to countless aspects that both enthrall and annoy in equal measure, Legend stubbonly refuses to be ignored thanks to its glorious imagery and the curious over exposure of Tom Cruise’s thighs.
Definitely not a legend, but it’s certainly no leg-end either – and by that, I obviously mean arse.
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