IMMORTALS

IMMORTALS (Rated R for graphic violence, sexual content, nudity):  I don't know which came first, the outlandish vid games with their wild confrontation excesses & sci-fi extravaganzas or the big screen-featured CGI stuff that push the envelope ever farther.  This loud, brash, well over the top example is just more of the same - huge on production values, miniscule on acting talents & plot.

Here we have a comic book examination of Greek mythology - sort of - an updating of "Clash of the Titans" without its impressive cast.  It's all director Tarsem Sing's show (He prefers to be called simply "Tarsem.") - a blood-soaked, eye-popping extravaganza that runs its 110-minutes on high octane speed, inserting opulent images of Grecian rugged coastlines, palaces & egregiously costumed people who minute after minute suffer stabbings, beheadings, garrotings, incarcerations, eye gougings, emasculations, hangings and a number of other inventive pleasures.  It's stomach churning fun aplenty - the identification imprit of Tarsem - that, along with his penchant for grand, imaginative settings.

Henry Cavill (pumped up to play Superman in an upcoming film) stars as Theseus, a humble stonemason who vows revenge against the tyrannical King Hyperion (Mickey Rouke in his most evil make-up to date, calmly munching on nuts as he prepares to do dastardly things).  Theseus rounds up a posse, including a special slave (Stephen Dorff) and a visionary priestess, who provides the one, brief obligatory sex scene (she beds a badly wounded hero) (Freida Pinto), to put an end to the king & restore peace to the land.  Oh, and somewhere along the way the Trojans in short short skirts & Dali-esque helmets join in.  It all winds up in an expected colossal all-hell-breaks-loose battle.  You don't have to know Greek history to guess who wins.

It's common knowledge that studios with ban critics from previews when they suspect the worst.  As is true in most every case, this one is classic.  The initial reviews would not have been kind.

One must decide somewhere along the way whether the dialogs, set pieces and costumes, which vary wildly from improvised to outrageously imagined, are brilliantly creative or laughingly ridiculous.  To be consistent with the entire out-of-control opus, I opted for the latter.  (Grade: D+)