Tristan and Isolde - Austin American-Statesman movie review

'Tristan & Isolde' is epically bad

By JOHN DeFORE
Austin American-Statesman

Actor James Franco is a chiseled, good-looking dude who, after doing a fantastic job as the irresistible bad kid in the high-school TV series "Freaks & Geeks," was a credible candidate to star in a James Dean film bio. In the "Spider-Man" franchise, he's fine as a sullen rich kid whose late pop was Spidey's nemesis.

Twentieth Century Fox

'Tristan & Isolde'

1 out of 5 stars

Director: Kevin Reynolds
Starring: James Franco, Sophia Myles, Rufus Sewell, David O'Hara, Mark Strong
Run time: 126 minutes
Release date: Jan. 13, 2006
Rating: PG-13 for intense battle sequences and some sexuality.
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But as anyone who saw last year's "The Great Raid" can confirm, Franco has a way to go before audiences will believe him as a leader of men. In "Tristan & Isolde," we're asked to accept him as the No. 2 man in a medieval movement to gather the tribes of England into one mighty nation.

Good luck with that, kid.

"Tristan" has slightly lower ambitions than Wagner's famous opera. Filmmaker Kevin Reynolds (the guy who set "Robin Hood" to a Bryan Adams ballad) is hoping his tale of star-crossed passion will sweep middle-school girls off their feet and keep their dates awake with some swordplay. Unfortunately, Reynolds isn't much at shooting action sequences, and occasionally even has difficulties framing a pretty picture.

The story he's starting with is a strong one, even in Cliffs Notes form: English boy dies at war with Ireland; Irish princess (Sophia Myles) brings him back to life; they understandably fall for each other. Boy doesn't know she's the princess, so it's not his fault when in a tournament he accidentally wins her hand to be his king's new queen. Boy is loyal to his newly married king, but his love is strong. This isn't going to end well.

Given the film's middlebrow marketing goals, it hits just about the right level of mediocrity — until the camera turns to Franco, which as you might guess from the title, is fairly often. Franco flounders. Knowing his lines but incapable of projecting them credibly, he skulks around like a Tiger Beat pinup transplanted to Camelot.

That might be exactly what the filmmakers have in mind, but it's not much fun for anyone expecting some small degree of gravitas from a tale weighty enough for grand opera.