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Fear of Film |
Movies you didn't see in the theater
Chaucer Revisited
by Art Livingston
A Knight's Tale (2001)
Written and directed by Brian Helgeland
Rated PG-13 (for action violence, some nudity and brief sex-related dialogue)
My hope for this column is to build a trust that will lead our readers to rent worthwhile films that they may not have otherwise considered which are compatible with a Chestertonian worldview. Though A Knight's Tale may well make most of our readers wince in distaste during its first few minutes, please, please soldier on, because anyone who sticks with it will not be disappointed. This film is riddled with anachronisms, unhistorical detail, and current patois. Normally this would be enough to damn it. For example, when the characters should be squared off to engage in some elegant 14th-century dance steps, instead everyone starts cavorting to David Bowie's "Golden Years." Geoffrey Chaucer is an itinerant writer (unlike the historical fellow), but he also has a gambling problem. "Chaucer's the name; writing's the game," he informs us. And we run into a feudal culture at its height, not in its last stages.
Slowly, I caught on to what the filmmakers had in mind. Only until recently have people paid much attention to minute historical accuracy, and our ancestors would have thought it blatant pedantry to do so. As late as the 18th century, actors trod the boards in performances of Joseph Addison's Cato while being bedecked in periwigs. Similarly, the real Chaucer cared so little for such accuracy that the laws of chivalry bind an ancient Trojan like Troilus. And then the truth dawned on me: this story is being told the medieval way, just as surely as clocks strike the hour in Julius Caesar—without regard to historicism.
Also medieval, and somewhat ironic, is that the story has both the simplicity and guilelessness of a Canterbury Tale. (By the way, Chaucer owes gambling debts to a Pardoner and a Summoner. Hmmm...) On the one hand, the tale has the arc of a medieval romance, but on the other hand it is also one of the best sports movies ever made, even if the sport be jousting.
The plot is straightforward, but fascinating. A knight dies during a rest period at a tournament. William, his squire, decides to put on his armor and finish the match in disguise so as to win the prize money. He does win, having been prepared by years of sparring with the deceased, and persuades his fellow servants to pool resources so that he can continue competing. It's risky—the law permits only men of royal birth to compete—but a chance meeting with a buck naked Chaucer (he has lost much more than his shirt at wager), we watch the rebirth of William as Sir Ulrich von Lichtenstein of Gelderland after Chaucer agrees to forge "patents of nobility" in exchange for food and clothes.
Through many twists and turns William becomes famous, wins the love of a beauteous damozel, receives disgrace when a villainous knight discovers the truth and has him arrested, is saved (by the Black Prince no less), and unhorses the dastard who caused him to be put in the stocks—and also gets the horse as well, not to mention the girl. Not bad work in 132 minutes.
A good story, well told. Highly recommended and all that. The great director, Howard Hawks, once said that the best films have two great scenes and no bad ones. A Knight's Tale has two scenes that elevate it above even many other films that are worth seeing—the one in which William courts Jocelyn (his damozel) and the one in which he transcends (this is not too strong a term) his disgrace.
In a sequence akin to the famous equivalent in Cyrano, William plagiarizes a flowery love letter. The next time the girl meets him, she asks for poetry. His education not being much above his raising in Cheapside, William tries valiantly to woo her, but few women, I think, would be won over with lines like, "Your breasts are below your head." At this point she rightfully demands poetry "now." He protests that he is about to go out and win the tournament for her. Then follows a most Chestertonian exchange:
If you would prove your love, you should do your worst. Instead of winning to honor me with your reputation, I want you to act against your normal character and do badly. Lose! Losing is a much keener test of your love. Losing would contradict your self-love and losing would show your obedience to your lover and not yourself.
Against his better judgment, William complies and suffers brutally. A thing worth doing is worth doing badly indeed.
The other timeless sequence, the discovery of William's humble origins
and its aftermath, is the culmination of the action. William refuses to
run because "I am a knight." He is beaten, ridiculed, and pilloried. A
lesser film that would then use clichéd imagery to suggest how
the character is "like Christ." Here William suffers in imitation of Christ,
and with quiet dignity. And then the audience realizes a marvelous thing
has occurred. By also imitating knighthood, William, through habit, has
become a true knight in reality. Geoff and his friend fight the crowd
until... But rent the film and see one of the most satisfying deus ex
machinae one is ever likely to encounter. 