I’ve been waiting to be in a calm, reasonable, orderly frame of mind before writing about Camelot, the new epic mini series on Starz, but, eh, that’s not going to happen anytime soon. My brain is too full of Hild and my body too ravaged by virus. (Okay, it’s a cold. What’s your point?) Here’s a disorganised rant instead.
Camelot has a great setting, some truly fine actors, and built-in marketing*. Also, to use a technical editing term, it’s a big spaghetti mess.
The biggest problem is the story, or lack of it. That is, the writing. For a clue how bad it is, read this snippet from the official website:
In the wake of King Uther’s sudden death, chaos threatens to engulf Britain. When the sorcerer Merlin has visions of a dark future, he installs the young and impetuous Arthur, Uther’s unknown son and heir, who has been raised from birth as a commoner. But Arthur’s cold and ambitious half sister Morgan will fight him to the bitter end, summoning unnatural forces to claim the crown in this epic battle for control. These are dark times indeed for the new king, with Guinevere being the only shining light in Arthur’s harsh world. Faced with profound moral decisions, and the challenge of uniting a kingdom broken by war and steeped in deception, Arthur will be tested beyond imagination. Forget everything you think you know…this is the story of Camelot that has never been told before.
If I were teaching, I’d set this as a rewrite exercise because, damn, even a beginner should be able to do better. (To those of you at home who want to have a go at fixing this: using high-impact words like ‘profound’ and ‘broken’ to hint at story isn’t enough. Readers/viewers need evidence of clear anchor points and an emotional arc. This is about Arthur–and Merlin, and Guinevere. Saying he’s young isn’t enough. Is Arthur a hero or a horndog? Smart or stupid? At this stage, before I’ve watched a single scene, I begin to suspect the writers don’t really know.)
Ten seconds into the first episode I knew we were in trouble. Jamie Campbell Bower, who plays Arthur, stands around with his mouth open like a trout. Perhaps this is meant to indicate breathless emotional engagement, perhaps he has sinus trouble, but it doesn’t inspire confidence. Arthur, the Once and Future King, the man who rallied a kingdom in the Terrible Times Previously Known as the Dark Ages**, should not be a gormless mouth-breather who looks as though he’s been sawn off at the brainstem.
But then we meet Merlin, played by Joseph Fiennes, and I perked up a bit. Merlin, in this reimagination, is a cross between a shaven-headed Hard Man and a wise and mysterious Life Coach. Fiennes is a good enough actor to pull this off–or would be, if he had good, risk-taking writing to build from.
But, no, Michael Hirst and Chris Shibnall, the creators, plump every time for the cheap choice. So, for example, we get gratuitous female nudity. I’m not one to complain about seeing luscious naked women–unless it makes no sense. (The writers don’t even try.) And unless there’s a serious lack of gender parity. (The men don’t show any skin except face and hands in the first two episodes.) In Camelot, all the girlie goodness does is make it clear to the viewer that women are objects and men subjects.
This is most obvious with Eva Green’s part, Morgan, the evil temptress, sloe-eyed and dark-haired (of course–another cheap shot the writers couldn’t resist; Guinevere is blonde). Green is, in my opinion, a truly fine actor, but she’s given nothing to work with here. Morgan is an unevenly and rather sulkily written ragtag collection of tropes and mannerisms. She consorts with mysterious misty things with voices for which she wears conveniently drop-at-a-touch dresses (always, for some reason, see-through). She’s emotionally unstable. She is not in conscious control of her powers.
This women wouldn’t have survived a minute in TTPKDA. I think the writers, in some dim way, understand this. Sadly, their attempt to finesse this inconsistency just makes everything worse. They show Morgan foiling an attempted rape by King Lott (on the battlements, in front of his whole army) by turning it into jolly public sex. He rips off her clothes and she says, Come on, big boy, let’s get it on in front of all your men! Lott then can’t get it up (I assume. It’s hard, no pun intended, to tell because he’s wrapped head to foot in iron and leather, nothing peeking out). He retaliates by dragging Morgan off to a windswept moor and tying her to a (convenient, well-maintained, otherwise purposeless) stake in the middle of nowhere and abandoning her overnight.
I used to earn my living by teaching women’s self-defence. One of the options I taught was (if you can’t run) to ruin the assailant’s power fantasy. So, intellectually at least, the writers were on the right track for Morgan to turn Lott’s rape power trip to consensual sex. But if, in a public setting, a warlord couldn’t get it up, I bet you a gold armring he’d kill his victim out of hand. He couldn’t afford not to in front of his men.
That tiny detail aside, you can’t treat a woman as a thing, a naked sex toy, one minute and then persuade the viewer the next that she’s a powerful, shape-changing sorceress in league with otherworldly creatures. (Why didn’t she summon a demon to eat Lott’s face? Why didn’t she change into something else? Why didn’t she fly away?)
Let me be clear, I’m not saying that women who have been sexually assaulted can never again have agency. I’m saying that a writer can’t take away a woman’s agency when convenient to the plot and expect the viewer to believe it when, without explanation or apparent struggle, it is magically restored. Everything has consequence. These writers are displaying not only a fundamental misunderstanding of gendered sexual violence but of how story works.
Woman-in-jeapardy is no substitute for plot and character development. With this kind of pointless sexual game the writers have just lost the trust of 51% of their audience and, for the rest, destroyed their belief in the story’s antagonist. They don’t understand the basics.
If I were teaching these writers, I’d help them understand the notion of Show and Tell, and when to use which.
They do a lot of telling. The first couple of episodes are littered with As You Know, Bob dialogue that could have been lifted from a day-time soap: Yes, adopted brother of mine, who will come with me to scary places. And Why, hello, magician with a mysterious past whom I don’t trust very much. And Oh, hey there, you brute with a sword, who has armies and doesn’t like my dead dad and can help me take the kingdom.
When they do just show, the scenes don’t make much sense. For example, in episode 3 there’s a scene in which Merlin, tied up by Morgan, says, essentially, Well, I could free myself if I wanted to; but I don’t want to use my magic… And then when Morgan wanders off (why? no idea) he just sort of wiggles free without magic. By just, y’know, tugging vaguely at the manacles. The viewer has no clue what’s going on: Did Morgan do a really bad job? (Subtract a point from the characterisation score.) Is it just lucky coincidence? (Lose a point for plotting.) Did he use his magic after all–if so, why? (Burn and destroy any accumulated trust in the writers’ consistency.) Then there’s the scene in which Arthur and Guinevere stumble across a just-that-minute-dead deer (arrow still poking from it’s chest) that no one, in economically hard times, has bothered to come and collect despite going to a lot of trouble to kill it. I’d discuss the ridiculousness of the following scene in which the boys clearly got so squicked out at the girlie particulars that they couldn’t think straight, but I don’t have the heart to go on. And I haven’t even mentioned the awful anachronisms…
Anyway, after suffering (profoundly, bitterly, brokenly) three hours of this series, I’m convinced that the writers of this big-budget blockbuster epic don’t know what they’re trying to say or to whom. Camelot is a hopeless muddle.*** This kind of crap gives sword-and-pony epics a bad name.
——
* The Arthurian Cycle, part of the Matter of Britain is the English legend. It has huge brand capital. I’m sure it can survive this. (If you want to know how it should be done, read Mary Stewart’s quartet of novels, starting with The Crystal Cave, and then Gillian Bradshaw’s trilogy, starting with Hawk of May. Brilliant stuff, both of them. Go read.)
** Now termed, depending on what school you follow, Late Antique, sub-Roman, or early Medieval Britain.
*** For contrast, see the brilliant clarity of the Game of Thrones Making Of programme: everyone involved is sure as sunrise about their characters and/or mission. I am positively drooling with anticipation.
I have heard only terrible things about it; your takedown is by far the best.
What she said. And since the girlie particulars scene really torqued me, I will point out to all Boy Writers of the world — if you're going to have a character go to the trouble of bleeding a dead deer (never mind that blood doesn't actually flow after death) in order to fake the loss of her own virginity by splotting blood on her marriage bed while her husband is having a pee….
Okay, first, you don't need that much blood, dude!
Second, don't have the lady pour the blood six inches to the right of her rib cage. Yes, it's easier to see there in terms of the camera angle, but that's where her husband was just lying and he is not where the blood came from…
And third, this guy is supposed to love her, and all he does is look at this puddle (puddle!) of blood and smile proudly? Yeesh, I'd at least wondering if she were hurt.
Argh.
I agree! I agree! Thanks for the post. On top of which, once again they make Arthur someone not worthy of being king. Why? It's a mess.
mordicai, thanks.
Kelley, yep, what you said :)
Sarah, I don't know. I wonder if Hollywood (sweeing generalisation) believes in leadership…
I wasn't even aware this was in the works (not having cable at all) but I'm not surprised—it sounds like someone rushed it into production to compete with A Game of Thrones and, once again, thought the window-dressing would carry it.
Makes you wonder, though, how an actor of Joseph Fiennes caliber feels about being handed something like this. (I recall a bit about Peter O'Toole in the wake of “Caligula” where the producer said “Yeah, Peter's a class act—he'll take your money and then tell what a piece of shit your making.”)
The other thing that always dismays me is…this shouldn't be that hard. I mean, hell, it's like all the half-assed versions of Robin Hood that have been made in the last 20 years and no one seems to get why the Eroll Flynn versions is still one of the best.
Mark, it's not hard–if you understand how story works. Sadly, not many people do.
“Forget everything you think you know (as they clearly did, if indeed they ever read enough to know in the first place)…this is the story of Camelot that has never been told before(and for a very damn good reason.)”
And the blood wouldn't just be on the bed, it would also be on the boy parts, as my husband helpfully pointed out.
If you're going to rewrite the story, have a reason (see Douglas Clegg or Marion Zimmer Bradley.)
That said, I do rather like the vine draped, ruined (but fully furnished) Camelot set.
And Joseph Fiennes.
Caryl
Camelot: Blood and Deer
Caryl, I love the set too and Joseph Fiennes and Eva Green (double swoon). Sadly, Camelot is not an equal-opportunity parts-viewing show (what a surprise).
And I agree with the comment that Arthur isn't any kind of leader. Double argh.
Anyone here watch the TV show Merlin? Now there's an Arthur! Wish they'd got him for this series as well, although I would hate to see another good actor subjected to the vagaries of this story.
Shows such as this are why I'm so dismissive of screen writers who infest the Westside here in Los Angeles.
Hmm. Good to know. Not having TV service – cable or otherwise – I sometimes wonder what I'm missing. Going back to my book now.
Szent adds that even as a guy, he can't mistake a nipple for a plot point.
Sorry, we're integrating and a bit more dissociated from each other than usual at times during the process, making communication garbled. What I actually said was, “A naked nipple does not a plot point make”.
Szent, 'can't mistake a nipple for a plot point' is pithier :)
Good rant, Nicola, thanks! Can't comment on the show cos I haven't seen it (it's not on in the Netherlands) but it does rather sound like a load of typical Hollywood rubbish. For a taste of the real Arthurian story you recommend reading Mary Stewart and Gillian Bradshaw's books (thanks for both tips), but what about good old T.H. White? I read The Once and Future King as a kid and loved it. Can still recall scenes and characterisations from this book now (unadulterated by all the Disney crap that followed much later). Or is White just too obvious to mention?
Ragini, White is brilliant! I particularly like the first volume, The Sword in the Stone. It's just not…epic.
I agree! Merlin's Arthur, while the show has its issues, is a KING in the making.
Damn Hollywood. Fucks it up again…
And Nicola, this was LMAO funny. I had to read it twice and I'll be linking all over…
@Nicola – I bow to your wisdom :).
Szent retains Zack and J's love of the complex and polysyllabic :P. Jo was blacked out for 29 years, so missed out on the complexiphilia (may not be a real word, but if you shared a mind with Zack and J, you'd want it to be).
Seriously, how does something that makes it to the screen have such major writing problems? Is it a matter of budget?
I did not see the Camelot you are talking about but remember when “The Mists of Avalon” was made into a movie? Bradley's book was amazing and it was being used in a couple of my women's studies classes in college…and then the movie…such a huge disappointment.
Anon, I remember that–the first impression anyway (didn't stick around for the whole thing). It was miscast, as I recall.
I couldn't watch Merlin. Made it through about 4 episodes whingeing about the inability of anyone in Hollywood to actually bother to find out anything about the Middle Ages. The last straw was Arthur wearing what appear to be jeans under his tunic. Why? Because 'real men' wear pants? So, if Camelot is worse, it must be truly terrible. Which, really, is no surprise.
Wendy, I was able to accept Merlin as a non-specific fantasy set-up, mainly because it's fun.
Camelot takes itself seriously. More's the pity.
Think I'll go re-read Mary Stewart as an antidote.