King Arthur: The Legend of the Sword

In an age flourishing long before the ascension of technocratic opalescence, wherein which the supernatural and the wayward majestically manifested authenticity, the gifted and the gaunt galavanting and genuflecting, magnificence reliant upon impunity, servility wavering mistrust, an honourable King was nefariously betrayed by his kin, his only son cast adrift with neither warmth nor privilege to suckle, then discovered, and nurtured, by the independent and the forthright, inductively instructed in brawn, conviviality, mischief, loving evaluated through sanctuary, costs wholesomely hyperconnected, impulsive riled frantic mores, one chance still remaining to reclaim his unknown throne, skittishly and jealously revealed, through treacherous enfeebled woe.

Muggles and mages peacefully coexisting in cheerful luminescent palm, until the balance is thrust asunder by those who do not share power.

Fidelity to the old ways survives nonetheless, a dedicated lot sagely educated in myth and legend.

Patiently awaiting.

August sublimity subsumed.

Guy Ritchie's King Arthur: the Legend of the Sword reimagines an English epic by blending the surreal and the sacrificial with athletic cinematic prose.

Through recourse to the bewitching, he shamanistically summons convergent forces, which subterraneanly sanctify a waking vision enchantingly his own.

Snakes aren't evil.

Nature is bold and relevant.

The music and the action and the emotion made me wish I was sitting in an inn in the 5th century constructed of stone with a giant cauldron of stew simmering over a communal fire, our ales robust, our bread hearty, and as the practical and the spiritual became more rapturously entwined, I could almost taste the feast, I could almost consume the vittles.

Young Arthur (Charlie Hunnam) reincarnates the Snatch/Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels aesthetic, as do his feisty companions as they resiliently battle both themselves and the supposed King.

It isn't about armies or sieges, preferring rather to laud cults of personality.

It revolves around Arthur, but there are more than enough well-developed characters to ensure he's part of an influential collective.

He doesn't seem to care much for ruling yet wants to progress as challenges and quests present themselves.

An homage to British First Nations?

To conscientious individuals?

An eclectic international incantation regardless, if not a concentric mysticization, or a definitive indissoluble divergence.

Quite different from contemporary action/fantasy films.

Estuary.