By Sam Graham
Every so often a film is made with more than the usual amount of depth. The kind that give the Film Studies students something to feel superior over (and be glad they aren’t having to watch Citizen Kane again). The most common are Ikiru, Metropolis, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, and there’s always one kid that’ll try to argue that A Serbian Film is subversive high art.
It isn’t.
I’m here today to discuss Conan The Barbarian (1982). Whilst mostly known for its star, Arnold Schwarzenegger, the film has a surprising amount of subtlety to it that’s easily overlooked.
Firstly, it has the distinction of being a very sombre film, which straight away sets it apart from the slew of Sword & Sorcery romps that came in its wake. Krull, Hawk the Slayer, Beastmaster, Fire & Ice. They all have one thing in common which is that they’re all so damn happy. The heroes are plucky adventurer sorts, the big bad is usually of a grandiose, world ending quality, and there’s often a token comedy midget.
Conan (Schwarzenegger) however is a film about misery. It appeals to Frederick Nietzsche’s philosophy in that pain, struggle and strife are the sculptors of better people. The film even opens with his famous ‘that which does not kill us makes us stronger’ quote.
For those who haven’t seen it, Conan’s entire tribe are killed by Thulsa Doom (James Earl Jones) for reasons that are never made aware to him. His father is killed, his sword is taken, and his mother is beheaded in front of him. Conan is enslaved, where he comes of age in fighting pits. He becomes a champion of the pits and is rewarded with formal combat training. Then, this caged animal is freed; sent out into the world to do as he pleases. He instantly sets about revenge. He finds love and loses it at the hands of Thulsa Doom, sharpening his resolve.
But Conan is not the plucky, Errol Flynn hero that Hawk and Colwyn are. Conan is a stoic man. He never speaks his emotions, but rather, he emotes them. His motivations and feelings are written on his face and portrayed in his actions. Only once does he say what he truly feels inside when he asks his God for help, and even then doesn’t give a toss if he listens or not. I have heard criticisms of this film, stating that Conan is emotionless and that Arnold portrayed him too woodenly. I say, he keeps his emotions beneath the surface, where they cannot be used as weapons against him: something someone having grown up fighting and killing would train themselves to do. In battle, emotions lead to reckless snap decisions. Calculation is the key to victory.
There is one scene I wish to discuss that is rife with symbolism. It often gets overlooked as just something that makes Conan look like a badass- which to be fair, it does.
After the battle of the mounds, after killing Thulsa Doom’s men and then killing Rexor- the man who murdered his father- Conan takes the broken shards of his father’s sword. This was forged in the opening scene and is smashed by Conan as Rexor (Ben Davidson) uses it against him. Conan holds it out in one hand, his own sword in the other, and facing the burial mound where his lost love, Valeria (Sandahl Bergman) was cremated, he performs the same bow he made when he won in the fighting pits.
This is possibly the most important scene in the film. How this scene isn’t gushed over by Film Studies lecturers is beyond me.
Look at the elements to this scene.
- His father’s sword, now destroyed by Conan
- His own sword
- The burial mound
- The bow
These are the key elements to Conan’s existence. His entire being up to that point are defined by those things. They sculpted him. Take any one of those elements away and you change the man drastically. They are the melting pot from which Conan emerged.
By smashing his father’s sword, Conan shows that he has grown beyond it. He is his own man now. He has understood the Riddle of Steel and has stepped out of the shadow of past events. But there is one more thing he must do.
He comes face-to-face with Thulsa Doom who tells Conan that he is responsible for shaping his destiny; that killing his family and his tribe sparked a chain of events that led to that moment. Had that not happened, Conan might have become someone very different.
Conan considers this. He does not say a word, but we see the conflict on his face. He doubts himself for a moment; questions the validity of Doom’s words. Is Doom responsible, or did Conan forge his own path? Doom may have killed his parents and sold him off, but he was the one who fought time and time again, whose sheer force of will drove him.
In that instant, Conan rejects Doom’s claim over his life and kills him. Revenge is sated. Afterwards we see Conan sitting contemplatively, perhaps wondering what his life will be now that his life-long quest is over.
And that adventure will (hopefully) also be told.
Enjoyed this piece? Then 'like' The Crusades of A Critic on Facebook. Sam also has a Tech Noir novel, 'An Inside Joke', which can currently be viewed here; his first novella 'Iron Country' is available to buy here; a horror short story, 'We Must Never Found Out', published here; and finally, another short horror story 'Eagal' available to buy here. Phew.
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