You 3.5 Readers.
Grab a vine and swing your ass on over to my review of The Legend of Tarzan.
I’ve had a hankering to catch this flick ever since the trailers came out. It looks beautiful and it is. The African landscapes, CGI animals, high stakes man vs. gorilla battles – it’s worth putting your butt in a theater seat for two hours.
The film itself suffers from schizophrenia. The Hollywood suits apparently decided that a straight up origin story would be a no go and God bless them, because just as I don’t need to see Bruce Wayne’s parents shot for the 1000th time, I don’t need an in-depth film about Tarzan’s backstory either.
Though it isn’t as well known, we get the gist. British family is shipwrecked off the coast of Africa. Young boy is raised by gorillas and becomes Tarzan, King of the Jungle.
(Millennials, I know you’re all rushing to your social media to declare that this movie is evidence that Harambe didn’t need to be shot and that if left to his own devices, he would have raised that kid that fell into his enclosure to become a mighty warrior. Stop. Just stop. Stop embarrassing yourselves.)
Anyway, the story begins with Lord Clayton (formerly known as Tarzan) at a time where he has returned to England and accepted his noble title and all the wealth and honors that come with it. He’s played by Alexander Skarsgard so all you ladies who enjoyed watching him take his shirt off in True Blood, here’s your chance to get a taste of what you’ve been missing.
He’s married to Jane, played by Margot Robbie. Robbie actually does some bonafide, legitimate acting in this movie which depresses me because the more her career takes off, the less likely I’ll see her jumblies on screen ala Wolf of Wall Street ever again.
Bah, it’s the same old song and dance. At first, all the actresses are tripping over themselves to show the world their good and plenties and then once they get a little fame the goodies go on lockdown forever.
The short version – Clayton and Jane are lured to the Congo under the pretenses of a diplomatic mission. American diplomat George Washington Williams (Samuel L. Jackson) joins them and mostly serves to be that guy the audience can relate to. He can’t believe that Tarzan can do half the shit he does and neither can we.
Alas, the villain, Leon Rom (Christoph Waltz branching out from playing evil Germans to play an evil Belgian this go around) has other plans.
The aforementioned schizophrenia comes in because while the film is about Tarzan’s return to the jungle, it’s a big ass flashback fest, where we’re treated to recurring glimpses of the past that led Tarzan to the path he’s on now.
Lots of action. Visually pleasing. Really, you have nothing better to do this weekend. If you’re reading this blog you need to get out more so start by going to see this.
Or stay in and rent Wolf of Wall Street because to the world’s collective chagrin, Margot’s days of going buff on film are over.
It really is a shame the effect that fame has on photogenic jumblies.