The film Luther is absolutely first-class as far as acting and actors is concerned; sets, props, costumes and the like are accurate down to the seams: everything is there ready for a BIG take-off. But then, enter the scriptwriters, director and cinematographer, who fail to ignite the fuse - or rather, spray sedatives over it all.
It's like watching that famous Elvis TV appearance from the 50s, where everything from his chest down was kept off camera: all the thrills are kept down. Instead, the film is satisfied with surfing the surface of what could had become a gut-felt, passionate drama: the paradox of being a spiritual drama that never stirs the soul.
Instead of the filmmakers aiming a full frontal attack on our glands, guts, nerves and hearts, we end up with a pretty bloodless CD-ROM dictionary kind of experience. Yes, the characters talk and move in their historical setting, but we don't go out and weep for them afterwards. Yes, we understand Luther's motifs, but we never *taste* the drives, the passion, the wrath the anger, the struggle. Yes, we *learn* the whole story in a nutshell, but we never *feel* it.
Frigid scriptwriting is one of the problems. Static directing is another, not to mention the pretty uninterested cinematography, which is best compared to a Volvo: safe, posh, shiny - and dull.
Imagine what James Cameron could have done with this, for instance (compare early quasi-documentary Titanic movies with the Cameron Titanic and you see what I mean).
Add to that a score that keeps every attempt to infuse some sort of dynamical span of conflict-to-climax firmly planed down to one even continuum of like-minded action, and you feel a certain frustration about what this film could have been. Now, it's a rosebud that dies before it blossoms, not because of any lack of inherent potential, but due to simple malnourishment.
However, mitres off for the w-o-n-d-e-r-f-u-l little side role played by Sir Peter Ustinov, bless his soul. Someone else here wrote that he absolutely stole the movie, and I cannot but agree. The scene where he receives the German Bible is worth going out and buying the DVD alone!
FINAL GRADE: good ingredients, poor cooking.
It's like watching that famous Elvis TV appearance from the 50s, where everything from his chest down was kept off camera: all the thrills are kept down. Instead, the film is satisfied with surfing the surface of what could had become a gut-felt, passionate drama: the paradox of being a spiritual drama that never stirs the soul.
Instead of the filmmakers aiming a full frontal attack on our glands, guts, nerves and hearts, we end up with a pretty bloodless CD-ROM dictionary kind of experience. Yes, the characters talk and move in their historical setting, but we don't go out and weep for them afterwards. Yes, we understand Luther's motifs, but we never *taste* the drives, the passion, the wrath the anger, the struggle. Yes, we *learn* the whole story in a nutshell, but we never *feel* it.
Frigid scriptwriting is one of the problems. Static directing is another, not to mention the pretty uninterested cinematography, which is best compared to a Volvo: safe, posh, shiny - and dull.
Imagine what James Cameron could have done with this, for instance (compare early quasi-documentary Titanic movies with the Cameron Titanic and you see what I mean).
Add to that a score that keeps every attempt to infuse some sort of dynamical span of conflict-to-climax firmly planed down to one even continuum of like-minded action, and you feel a certain frustration about what this film could have been. Now, it's a rosebud that dies before it blossoms, not because of any lack of inherent potential, but due to simple malnourishment.
However, mitres off for the w-o-n-d-e-r-f-u-l little side role played by Sir Peter Ustinov, bless his soul. Someone else here wrote that he absolutely stole the movie, and I cannot but agree. The scene where he receives the German Bible is worth going out and buying the DVD alone!
FINAL GRADE: good ingredients, poor cooking.