It’s a dirty job to be mean about something that tries so hard, with barely a shred of cynicism, to be as good natured and entertaining as Jack The Giant Slayer, but I guess somebody has to do it.
Opening with a fairytale reading so similar to the Hellboy: The Golden Army prologue that it borders on plagiaristic, Jack The Giant Slayer accidentally sucks the joy out of a timeless kids fable by trying to infuse it with darker and more complex elements – elements it didn’t really need and elements you didn’t really want, so by the time you realise you’re being fed lumpy and unnecessary exposition you’ve probably already missed it.
Hands up anyone who remembers what they were told in the first ten minutes. No? Yeah, me neither.
Well, strangely enough, after this failed attempt to beef up the Jack and the Beanstalk mythology the film descends into fey medieval pantomime territory with all the style and sophistication of a second rate BBC television miniseries. Tents? Check. Flags? Check. Chickens? Check. Fire breathing entertainer in a bustling market place? Check.
Yet while permitting such worryingly old-hat production design clichés director Bryan Singer also seems to be suffering from Peter Jackson Fever (a real medical condition in Hollywood), therefore most of the dialogue has had to be dubbed-over in the Additional Dialogue Recording (ADR) stage so as to suck the spontaneity out of all its performances and every shot that opens a new scene has to swoop in on a crane – preferably over a babbling brook or a conveniently placed piece of set dressing.
But beyond the slightly distracting nods to dear old P.J. a strong visual signature is noticeably lacking. Singer has never had the most consistent or striking visual style, in fact I’m doubtful I could pick one of his films out of a line-up, but you can usually tell that he tries hard to add some flare to proceedings, whether or not he succeeds.
Jack The Giant Slayer is an example of when he doesn’t.
As mentioned above the overall look of the film is pretty flat in a low-budget TV production sense, as are the special effects that even a video game developer might send back with detailed notes for improvement; but elsewhere the writing is beyond abysmal and not helped by the bad ADR work and the film’s two lifeless leads (Nicholas Hoult and Eleanor Tomlinson) who both look and sound as though they could do with a hot meal to boost their energy levels and pad out their walking-skeleton physiques.
Fear not, though, as aid comes in the form of the film’s supporting players, in particular Ewan McGreggor as a pompous knight who seems always on the verge of anachronistically shouting out “chocks away!”, Ian McShane who’s just great in everything and the far too marginalised for anybody’s liking chameleonic appearance of the wonderful Stanley Tucci.
But whether or not you can digest the stilted dialogue, the occasional wooden performance or the added plot mechanics you’ll still end up grooving along to the basic beats of the classic Jack and the Beanstalk fable with added gross-out humour and gratuity-free action sequences (the final castle siege is mercifully less Battle of the Pelennor Fields and more Diet Helms Deep).
So by failing in its intention to be weighty and edgier than its roots require Jack The Giant Slayer can’t help but be a simple and fun bit of fluff that only lets itself down with some excruciating dialogue, a wet pair of lovebirds and the lack of a strong creative vision.
Basically you won’t be bored, but you’ll want to plug your ears up about five times a scene.
