Reign of Fire
 (2002)
review by Red Velvet Kitchen

Who doesn’t get excited at the prospect of dragons? You don’t? Did your parents deprive you of a proper childhood? Are you human? Bad dragon experiences in the past a la Sharon Stone’s husband? Nah, you’re lying, everyone loves a good dragon, or preferably a frighteningly destructive one. This idea is central to the appeal of Reign of Fire, that mixture of boyish enthusiasm, impudent excitement at fire-breathing creatures destroying old buildings, extras and the odd name actor, and the sleek sophistication of a dark-hearted anti-Blockbuster.

I shall repeat that, this is not your average Blockbuster. Add a megaphone to that pronouncement. But that’s what makes it such a heroic achievement; not that it’s a masterpiece or a complete revision, but that it challenges the conventions (and more often than not, generic failings) of big names in big concepts and wins. With a hefty $95 million budget, that’s admirably courageous. In place of macho camaraderie and traditional love interests spouting an antique collection of tawdry one-liners and faux-military pomp, we have fascinating and intelligent ideological opposites, masculine tension and aggression, plus real interaction between genuinely desperate people. It’s almost as if director Bowman (a television veteran with The X-Files) has tossed the so-familiar-they’re-practically-clichés weaknesses of most Blockbuster’s (for an excellent example of this indistinguishable crap just see Men in Black 2. In fact don’t) into the inferno that engulfs this film and fished out the dirtier, more realistic remnants from the fire. Everything is unremittingly bleak and this bleakness, along with the impoverished characters, do not sport and dwell in the kind of Mad Max chic you may expect. This is dystopian with a ‘D’ that’s been caked in mud and chased by relentless dragons for years. Messy faces and beards are de rigueur in a stronghold constricted by a gloomy mask of darkness. The main body of the film occurs here, this quasi-Medieval settlement which resembles not a high-tech military base, but one of those anonymous factories swamped with angular steel structures and billowing smoke. It’s a testament to Bowman and his production team that they’ve actually bothered to create this fantastic central set and not frowned and let the post-production team fill in the gaps later on. This is typical of the attention to detail and number of pleasingly inventive nuances which crop-up along the way of a surprising narrative, everything combining a fantasy high-concept with grounded realism.

The first obvious sign is the setting, the not too glamourous 2020 wastelands of Northumberland, UK. Twenty-years after he survived a savage dragon attack that killed his mother and instigated the resurgence of dragons in the world, Quinn (played with an increasingly apt cod-Cockney accent by Christian Bale) fronts an industrial stronghold at constant threat of attack. We learn through voice-over that the dinosaurs were killed out by dragons, and the flying menaces also created the ice-age. They wipe out any sign of life before hibernating and waiting for the world to rebuild before the cycle of terror begins again. Quinn is at breaking point after the latest devastating blow, when a band of American militants arrive claiming they’re dragon slayers. Lead by a Matthew McConaughey dripping with sweaty machismo, the two parties form an uneasy bond and combine resources to seek out the solitary male dragon who is populating the world with all the beasts.

Rob Bowman uses a vivid and illuminating visual style throughout, one that shreds a cautionary and claustrophobic dread-filled atmosphere with swooping, majestic dragons. Colour is completely drained from the film apart from the polar opposites of the omnipresent fire, and the vibrant symbol of optimism in bright red and green fruits and vegetables. The frame is constantly loaded with jagged structures (ranging from crop supports and tank turrets to crudely-made graves) impinging on the characters who glare out from underneath, re-enforcing the idea that it is the humans who are imprisoned as the endangered species, a reverse of most action film dynamics. Amidst the clever visuals are the two key psyches on show; the more aggressive, impulsive Mconaughey and the calculative, wary and sentimental Bale, both fleshing out two aspects of masculinity perfectly; thoughtful steeliness versus macho bravado, or brain versus brawn if you will. The thing is, the tension between the two leads is much more complex than that, and whether we’re in the middle of a rapid-fire set-piece or watching some intense vocal sparring, there’s always that underlying spark between the two. All good action films should somehow explore the notions of masculinity, but Reign of Fire goes that bit further, portraying these clashing ideologies without preference, easy answers or lazy didacticism. Naturally, Izabella Scorupco’s helicopter pilot gets lost amongst the rippling biceps and racing pulses.

The major negative of Reign of Fire is similar to its strength; its position as a sly alternative to the never-too-threatening universe of the Blockbuster. With most film’s that slot into the ‘thriller’ mould (Alien, Hannibal, Psycho, Planet of the Apes etc) the trick is to try and manipulate the audience to the point that they begin to have serious doubts about whether the practically guaranteed happy ending will unfurl, to affect so much that it instils mortal doubts about our heroes and our optimistic expectations. The intention of the thriller is to reach the point when even the predictable and the formulaic seem surprising. Leaving typical featureless action set pieces and cipher characters trailing in its wake, Reign of Fire delivers, but not as much as it could have done. In distancing itself from the rabid crowd, it forgets the major strengths of a good big budget actioner. As a result, it’s only truly thrilling at the climax and lacks that shallow sense of enjoyment that provokes an instant likeability. I’m not suggesting that Reign of Fire loose some grey matter, it’s just often the finest films are intelligent AND dumb in the right places. Throughout there are whispers of a political subtext and themes of loyalty, hope and leadership are decently fleshed out, but the depth of the film is never astonishing, not once is your breath-taken by the sheer verve and invention against convention. The film could always be a little more daring, just that bit more unconventional, without sacrificing the odd cinematic money shot or cheap thrill.

And the dragons? They look very impressive (CG graphics do tend to work better with flying or swimming creatures) but are essentially an expertly-designed background to a human story about survival, empowerment and the value of the future. It really aids the excellent acting and staging of human drama that the dragons are neither idolised nor anthropomorphically portrayed, encircling the famished as the embodiment of struggle, destruction and pestilence. These creatures need to be faceless and unemotional to highlight their enemy; our heroes, and to ensure we have traditional goodies and baddies amongst the multi-layered human tension. The dragons are nothing but a symbol of the pestilence that has afflicted both the scorched planet and wizened look on the struggling people’s faces. Beyond this admittedly spectacular distraction is where you’re money is going.

Overall, Reign of Fire wins by sheer virtue of having the guts to be different, but also entertaining in the old tradition of the more seriously minded monster movie (more Excalibur than Dragonheart). Ignore the crass rock song that fumbles over the end credits and leave the cinema satisfied that at least some multi-million dollar movies can be simultaneously dark and so full of spark.