There’s something about the thrilling and deadly poetry of fencing that captures the imagination. With its thrusts and parries, its advances, retreats and quick reversals, a good sword fight can encapsulate the whole notion of an epic struggle between good and evil.
When I was five years old, I had only one true ambition. I would have settled for growing up to be Batman, but what I really wanted was to enter a career as a professional swordfighter. My teachers in kindergarten used to complain to my mother that I couldn’t pay attention in class. They concluded that I must be hyper-active, but in truth, I was just too busy imagining myself on a grand Olympic stage, challenging a Goliath-like opponent before thousands of adoring female fans.
I grew up watching the original Star Wars films, and by the time I could speak in complete sentences, I had already conducted extensive study of the intricacies of every lightsaber battle in the trilogy. I longed for more fencing goodness, so when I saw the commercials for Willow in the spring of 1988, I catapulted into a frenzy. Not only was the sword and sorcery epic produced by the visionary George Lucas (oh, how he has since fallen from my esteem), but the trailers promised breath-taking action, gruesome monsters, sinister villains, and endearing heroes.
I can’t quite recall seeing Willow for the first time in the theater, but as I continued to watch it countless times at home on VHS, and recreate its compelling battles in the back yard with metal grilling skewers (parents were a lot more laid back in 80s), the film became an indelible part of my childhood. I rediscovered Willow a few years back, and while it no longer occupies the mythic status it once did in my mind, I still find it to be a charming bit of classic filmmaking.
I suppose it would be charitable to say that Willow features an “iconic” story. But, it would be more truthful to tell you that George Lucas’ story and Bob Dolman’s script borrow heavily from their illustrious predecessors. Willow shamelessly apes plot points and characterizations from The Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Gulliver’s Travels and even the Bible.
See if you can spot the influences in this synopsis.
Bavmorda, an evil sorcerer and queen of Nockmaar, has for years orchestrated a brutal military campaign from her dark and forbidding realm. No one can stand in her way, but a prophecy tells of the coming birth of a child who will destroy her. Fearing the fulfillment of this prophecy, Bavmorda arrests every pregnant woman in the realm and imprisons them in her castle.
When a baby girl bearing the mark of the prophecy is born in the castle’s dungeon, a kindly midwife escapes with her into the wilderness. Pursued by Bavmorda’s ruthless minions and their mutant dogs, the midwife places the child in a basket and sends her floating down a river. The basket comes ashore in the land of the Nelwyns, a race of diminutive, peaceful farmers. A young farmer named Willow Ufgood (Warwick Davis – a frequent Lucas collaborator and the titular character from the cheesy Leprechaun horror movies) and his family rescue the child and take her before their chief consul.
The consul determines that the child must be returned to the land of the Daikinis (regular-sized people). Willow is compelled by his love for the child to make the journey. He’s joined by a small party of townsfolk, including his loyal friend, Meegosh.
Along the way he meets Madmartigan (Val Kilmer doing a really good impression of Han Solo with a sword), an exiled warrior and brigand, who forms a tenuous alliance with Willow. Together they set out to protect the child from Bavmorda’s menacing commander, General Kael (Pat Roach), and to deliver her to the righteous and beleaguered kingdom of Tir Asleen. They are joined in their quest by Fin Raziel, a sorcerer cursed by Bavmorda, and a pair of bickering Brownies (think Lilliputians with a sense of humor) named Rool and Franjeen.
Now, admittedly, no one would accuse Willow of breaking new ground or bucking genre conventions. And, unfortunately, whatever unique aspects of the film’s universe there might be are never adequately developed. Very little time is devoted to building the film’s mythology or establishing each character’s back-story. As a result, the film’s diluted narrative fails to take hold and many viewers may find it difficult to invest in the struggle at hand.
Yet, despite these shortcomings, what Willow does right, it does well.
The production values are top-notch. The gorgeous cinematography, compelling set design, and convincing costumes and props instantly place Willow in a class above the run-of-the-mill fantasy films of the 1980s. The film’s locations, like the peaceful Nelwyn village, the limestone courtyards of Tir Asleen, and the massive throne room of Nockmaar are all masterfully realize; and the uniquely detailed weapons and armor were enough to fuel my boyhood imagination for years. The special effects were groundbreaking for the time, and they still hold up well. If nothing else, Willow is a compelling visual adventure.
In this early directorial effort, Ron Howard shows that he can orchestrate an exciting action sequence. While a lack of extras never fully conveys the epic scale Howard probably desired, every one of the battles in the film is well-choreographed and helmed with a skillful economy. James Horner’s masterful score serves to further elevate the proceedings by perfectly capturing the notions of swashbuckling action and childlike wonder inherent in the script, while still managing to add an air of exotic mystery by incorporating uniquely eastern instruments.
While Willow’s characters may not be particularly unique or novel, they are written and acted well, and the cast perfectly embodies both the humor and the darkness of the script.
Warwick Davis was only seventeen or eighteen years old at the time of filming, but despite his young age, he convincingly plays the part of an earnest farmer and family man caught up in a frightening battle in an unfamiliar land.
Val Kilmer is undeniably charming in his role as Madmartigan, infusing the character with just the right blend of humor, bravado, and reluctant heroism. He has a lovably exasperated chemistry with Davis, and his romance with Bavmorda’s daughter, Sorsha (Joanne Whalley) – while obviously too easily contrived – is silly fun and captures the swashbuckling nature of the characters and the story.
Fin Raziel (Patricia Hayes), who spends most of her time in the form of various animals as the result of Bavmorda’s curse, is an enjoyable, if underdeveloped, character. The Brownies are a lot of fun and they steal most of the best lines and biggest laughs.
Jean Marsh is appropriately menacing as the dark sorcerer queen, Bavmorda, but General Kael is the truly iconic villain of the piece. With his imposing stature, monstrous physique, and frightening armor (complete with a chilling death’s head helmet and facemask), Pat Roach completely owns every one of his scenes. Even though he only has a few lines of dialogue, Kael’s forbidding presence is felt throughout the film.
Parents will likely find Willow to be too dark and violent for young children. Bavmorda and her armies truly convey the blackness of pure evil. There are a number of frightening scenes starring devilish dogs (Dobermans in heavy makeup), nasty trolls, and a giant, two-headed dragon. Both the forces of good and evil employ all manner of magic spells and cryptic chanting, and there is an extended scene featuring the child of the prophecy bound and crying on an altar as Bavmorda prepares a sacrificial ritual. One of Bavmorda’s spells turns her enemies into pigs, and their transformations are rather grotesque.
The movie’s numerous battles aren’t particularly bloody, but they are surprisingly graphic. Many soldiers meet their end at the point of an arrow or the blade of a sword, and the final battle between Madmartigan and Kael is extended and violent.
Despite this grim picture, there is an undercurrent of hope and bravery throughout the film, and (spoiler alert) good does eventually prevail against the overwhelming forces of darkness. Willow’s courage and selflessness in the face of wickedness and apathy is the idealistic backbone of the picture.
I’ll admit that Willow is not the most original film, and it darkly violent tone may exclude some of its target audience, but its heart is in the right place. For any family craving an entertaining and classic story of good versus evil, this just might fit the bill.
Caution Rating: 6
