CONAN THE BARBARIAN
1982

Conan The Barbarian is the premiere prehistorical magic-sword swinging, snake-demon killing, camel-punching revenge movie of the 80s. Intruding on a fur-loin-cloth-clad area previously trod upon only by caveman films, the Hercules pictures and the Sinbad movies. This is the first adaptation of the stories of Robert E. Howard, who wrote many, many Conan books while sequestered in his mom’s basement, for others to read in their mom’s basements. The film is rated R and does have some bloody battle action, although not as much gore as some modern R-rated films (which I believe was the studio’s doing.)
In the beginning of the film, you see Conan’s whole village killed and his mother decapitated (just offscreen) by big bad voodoo daddy Thulsa Doom, played by the always-imposing James Earl Jones. Conan grows up a slave, and his physical talents tested when he is trained as a gladiator. Asked what is best in life, Conan replies in his thick accent, “To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women.”
Freed by his drunken master, Conan finds his way to a temple of Doom (always wanted to say that!) and kills a giant snake, along the way picking up a colorful cast of companions, and a ladyfriend, to boot. (Sandahl Bergman, an athletic blonde who later appeared as the villain in Red Sonja.)
James Earl Jones lends some acting gravitas to the proceedings, and instead of a Max Von Sydow type, they actually got Max Von Sydow, briefly, when he sends Conan and crew on a quest to find his kidnapped daughter. Beloved Japanese-American character Mako also has a supporting role as The Wizard. Contrast those well-known pros with the wooden but cut Arnold and his sidekick, Subotai (played by a non-actor, Gerry Lopez. Lopez was just a surfer buddy of Milius’, who had read the books and didn’t have to act too much, as he was basically playing himself.)
The future governator would later become a better actor than on display here, but he’s still got plenty of charisma to B.S. his way through the role. And he doesn’t have to do much more than look impressive, which he does well (this was shot just a few months after his 1980 “surprise” comeback Mr. Universe win, with Arnold doing an intensive daily workout of sword fighting, running and horse riding, in addition to his usual weight work.)
The life lessons Conan’s father teaches him have to do with his tribe’s god, Crom, couched in some macho pseudo-mystical rubbish regarding “the enigma of steel”. “You can’t trust women, men, beasts…This steel sword you can trust.” He later finds the sword of Crom in a cave and uses it to gain his revenge. Contrast this earthy machismo with the nihilistic death cult of Thulsa Doom, who asks the question, “Don’t you want to find emptiness, brother?” Conan even gets crucified, in a great big dumb scene that will have everyone but animal rights activists cheering. More action sequences follow…if you want to hear much more about the stories’ symbolism listen to director John Milius’ commentary track. Milius was also the writer/director of 80s cold war the-commies-are-coming cult flick Red Dawn.
Conan has a cheesy sex scene where you can’t really see much but naked backs, apparently the first such scene for both actors. Speaking of awkward, Mako’s larger-than-life voiceover narration is ridiculously serious, as if we might forget for a moment that we’re watching an epic!
The film’s overwhelming orchestral music themes are expressed in really sappy heroic overkill, with the plaintive bleats of (I believe) an oboe, and the chants of a chorus of voices going “Oh oh oh oh”, attempting to lend that epic quality to the proceedings. Which is not necessarily a bad thing here, as subtlety is not the film’s keyword. Great art direction and set design and costumes distinguish this from other later Sword and Sorcery films…and modern audiences will get a laugh out of the ghost scene, with dated early 80s digital “movie magic” portraying some spirits floating around an almost dead Conan. With a nice end set piece on a huge temple staircase, designed by Ron Cobb, the guy who did Alien and Aliens. Milius ain’t no Kubrick, but is a decent craftsman, and the film’s assured use of the wide screen process is noticeable and really adds some weight to the film, and again hammers home the epic nature of all this enjoyable hoo-hah. If you are lucky enough to see this on a big screen, it will probably be about fifteen minutes shorter than the director’s version on the DVD, also not a bad thing, as it does drag a bit toward the end.
The year 1984 saw a less-successful PG-rated sequel, without Milius and Jones, but with Arnold paired with non-actors Grace Jones and Wilt “The Stilt” Chamberlain! Their odd performances were so conventionally “bad”, you never saw much of either of them ever again, and were, of course, embraced by true trash fans as unique and authentic examples of unfortunate “acting” in Hollywood films.
Did I mention the word Epic?

-Hysteric Eric