Troy is a sort of historical fiction deal telling about, well, the battle of Troy. You know, that whole thing with Helen of Troy - er, Sparta - and Achilles and all that. Go read The Iliad if you don’t know that story, or maybe take some high school history.
So I don’t need to explain the story to you any more than I would need to explain the plot of something like, say, Titanic. Helen of Troy? Check. Ridiculously huge battle scenes? Check. Trojan horse? Check. Achilles heel? You got it.
All that’s left to discuss is what I thought.
Brad Pitt plays a pretty good Achilles, though I couldn’t help but see Val Kilmer as Madmartigan from Willow. He was a reasonably believable fighter; I liked him. I admit I kept waiting for someone to cut his heel in every battle, though. Maybe knowing too much about the plot of a movie isn’t such a good thing.
Diane Kruger (no, I don’t know her, either) played Helen. Now, I thought Helen of Troy was supposed to be some major legendary beauty. Granted, they explore some more political reasons for the Trojan War here, but that doesn’t change the fact that, while Kruger is sort of cute, she’s no legendary beauty.
Even given all of that, I could have just settled back and watched an epic battle, but when Briseis, the cousin of the Trojan prince (played by Rose Byrne, who was just as good looking, if not better, than Helen), has a knife at Achilles’s neck, then he spouts some “wisdom-riddled” one-liner and she basically flips over onto her back and they do it. What?! Sorry, folks, you lost me there. This isn’t some Bond film, so I can’t just let that go. If I wanted cheesy sleeping with the enemy, I’d go rent that.
I’m glad I saw it, but more from the perspective of “three hours at a movie is way better than three hours at work.” I’m glad work paid for it, too. Had I put in my $8, I’d have been pissed off.
Like my coworker sitting next to me said during the film, “Hey! There are people in that horse! Don’t let them in!”
Save this one for the dollar beer-and-pizza theater. You’ll thank me later, when you’re drunk and stuffed with pizza.