There’s a long debate to be had about what we expect from Netflix films. If they are predominately being seen in someone’s home, with ease of access and a constant flurry of distractions, are they to be held to the same standard as films that must attract people to theaters? Or is there a sliding scale dependent on the kind of film it is? Should The King and The Irishman have higher expectations because of their award season positioning than Netflix’s steady stream of romantic comedies? Or does none of this matter because all films should be held to the same standard regardless?
These questions don’t have a clear answer, but they need to be addressed when evaluating The King, another in a long line of middling productions from the streamer. Many people do seem to have a lower standard for movies they can pop on, pause to make dinner, then pick up again whenever convenient. Like it or not, watching something at home fundamentally changes the viewing experience, and in the same way we used to remark that a film would be perfect for cable on a Sunday afternoon, there’s films that would be a drag in theaters that are perfectly fine on Netflix.
The King rides the line of the latter category, but not the high end one. This isn’t questionably worth seeing in theaters; it’s questionably worth starting in your comfiest chair, dozing off in the middle, and waking up for the big battle. It’s interminably long, has little to say, and plods along in a dull monotone, but hey, Timothée Chalamet has interesting hair, Robert Pattinson does an Accent (yes, that’s an intentional capital A), and those battle scenes are pretty cool. Is that enough for you? It wasn’t for me, but admittedly, it got pretty close.
A King Out Of Focus
You would think a film called The King would have a clear focal point. It should be about the young man poised to succeed his ailing father on the throne, and it does feature that character in pretty much every scene. But it fails to give us a reason why we’re following this dude, who remains an opaque figure caught up in the course of history.
Timothée Chalamet is Henry V of England, a guy who came to power in the middle of the Hundred Years’ War with France. We’re talking the 1400s, when a king had absolute power and the longbow could change the course of a battle. Poor Henry doesn’t want any of that, though, spending his young adulthood in the time period equivalent of hard partying instead of proving himself to his future subjects. He sort of has reasons for this; he allegedly is a peace-loving man avoiding his father’s hawkish policies. Of course he ends up as King and France pushes him into war, and I guess the film is trying to be about how the realities of ruling changes him?
Problem is that the character is completely flat, professing beliefs that he gives up…because? His thought process is lost somewhere between Chalamet’s two facial expressions and and the all-too-familiar manipulations of court, which Henry falls for hook, line, and sinker. Per this version of the story, he’s just a young person in over his head, neither a petulant fool nor a rigid idealist, and that’s not a cinematic character.
The Painful Pace Of Failed Grandeur
Director and co-writer David Michôd isn’t afraid to make this film an epic. He quite clearly had a broad scope in mind, staging big battles and showing an inordinate amount of political maneuvering in order to capture the impact of the period. A very young man was once made King of England, and he changed the course of European history. There’s grand things to be said about that kind of power in the hands of an unprepared person, but Michôd’s film doesn’t actually explore these points.
And that makes its pace simply painful. There’s no other word for it; it’s painful. The movie is over two hours of people doing exactly what you expect them to do, not because you know the history, but because we’ve all heard a story before. An heir doesn’t like his father’s warmongering? He’s probably going to push back against it only to find out that war can come about without your wanting it. It’s such a fundamental story that it’s literally Shakespeare (Henriad, anyone?). If you want to make this story into an epic, you’ve got to tap into the timeless themes that’s made it famous, and with a blank character at the film’s center, it simply can’t do that.
Memorable High Points
Even with all these stumbling blocks, The King isn’t a complete failure. Michôd can stage a battle, show the cost of war, and find little moments where the film suddenly comes to life. The latter is often thanks to Joel Edgerton, whose rascally war veteran provides both calibrated comic relief and moments of real catharsis.
This feel for what the story needed is probably because Edgerton co-wrote the thing, not so much Michôd leading his actor to the right place. In fact, the complete tone-deafness of Robert Pattinson’s showy turn as the the Dauphin of France indicates that Michôd wasn’t keeping the whole thing cohesive, but hey, at least it allowed Pattinson to get weird, if you’re into that (I wasn’t).
Other pieces, like the detailed production design and some excellently choreographed fight scenes show that individuals made some pretty stellar contributions to the film. Those are well worth admiring, but be ready to slog through a lot of filler to do it.
The King: Conclusion
Moments where interest is snatched from the jaws of boredom come just often enough to keep you from switching to one of Netflix’s many other offerings, but it’s not enough to recommend starting The King in the first place.
What did you think of The King? Did you stay awake for the entire film? Let us know in the comments!
The King is available everywhere on Netflix.
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