Ah, no worries, Rodia. I'm not easily offended. I'm a thick-skinned m00b. :mrgreen:
Which probably means that I should, in complete M00b Style, now tell you that you are totally and horribly wrong while I am so very much right, and then close by advising you to abandon your foolish ways and stop disagreeing with me and everything.
But let's not do that.
Oliver Stone's Alexander is not a Hollywood film. It is no popcorn flick. It is not the Hero Kicks Butt film audiences (may) expect. It is not linearly told, and thus has an unusual, unaccustomed air to it. It features a long psychedelic sequence. It is full of Greek mythology and metaphors. It is character-driven, yet its characters are all flawed, tragic, messed up by their feelings, ambitions, longings. Its dialogues are more those of an ancient Greek drama than a 2004 film. It is unconventional, ambitious, experimental, daring, and yet utterly real. It doesn't offer easy answers, it doesn't accept easy solutions. Stone doesn't show us the mythical Alexander, the god-like conqueror that Plutarch, Callisthenes, Ptolemaios have invoked in their writings, the shining leader of an army that defeated every other army of the known world. He shows us the man, and it is no pure coincidence that his film is called "Alexander", not "Alexander the Great".
By leaving out everything that happened after Philip's assassination and before the Battle of Gaugamela, Stone doesn't show us much of what exactly made Alexander "great" - we don't see the destruction of Thebes, the banning of Charidemos from Athens, how the typically Macedonian (and literally invincible) configuration of Alexander's army came about; we only get to watch him in two of his countless battles; we see him at the height of his success at Gaugamela, and then we witness his decline as his fellow Macedonians grow more and more discontent over his decisions. This is a gutsy decision on Stone's part, and what it does is allow him to deeply explore Alexander's psyche in the following; he doesn't dwell on Alexander's rise to greatness, instead he focuses on how his ambition clashes with reality, his shortcomings, and his lifelong search that was as much a search as an attempt to escape. In a strange way Alexander was a haunted man; as king of the Macedonians he was expected to go farther, defeat more enemies, and conquer more land than his forefathers did. He did so willingly and most successfully, and yet... Stone's Alexander wasn't great because he won all those battles and conquered 90% of the world; he was great in spite of this. But it has taken its toll. And that's what Stone's film is about.
Speaking of Gaugamela - that must be the most accurate (and real to the point that it became unsettling) battle sequence ever seen on screen. And after a second viewing I have made up my mind, I like it better than the Ride of the Rohirrim.
I didn't know who the hell was fighting who, even though it should be obvious, considering the different dress-code of both armies.
You didn't know who the hell was fighting who because 2,300 years ago, most of the people on that battlefield didn't know either. That's how battles went 2,300 years ago, and in most aspects they haven't changed much over 2,300 years. For a clear Good Guy vs. Bad Guy scene, I recommend some Bruckheimer.
Oliver Stone's style of moviemaking is not "this happened, and then this happened, and later this happened". It tends to get slightly chaotic at times, and he sometimes can't suppress his love of messing with people's heads, but he always has a point. The older he gets the more stream-of-consciousness-y his films become (not exactly on plot level as rather on a metaphysical level of meaning and depth) and I CANNOT WAIT to see the films he will make in ten, fifteen years' time. So no, his Alexander is not a typical hero flick of "he did this, and then he did this, and then he was liek awesum liek, whoa". It is as much a biopic as a psychodrama by a highly experimental director, it doesn't care about and thus defies conventions, and that's what makes it a difficult and polarizing film. I guess you either love it or hate it.
Some examples:
The dialogue.
The ancient Greeks loved themselves some drama. They invented tragedy, dramatic theater, the technique of dramatic monologues. The film's dialogue is reminiscent of Greek tragedies; it is often melodramatic, verbose, always forthright. Like the dialogue in Greek plays. The speeches are long, sweeping, and theatrical. Like the speeches in Greek plays. The film doesn't feature "modern" dialogue, and this was done for a reason, and all those in the audience giggling over Alexander's words to Roxane about how a man searches all over the world and finally finds love (while getting out his treasured copy of the Iliad), for example, didn't get it.
The hero.
Alexander is an uncomfortable hero. He has issues with his parents, seems psychotic, cries, gets drunk, shows delusions of grandeur, screams in frustration, and kills a man in rage. While some of his traits were expanded and artistically interpreted by the script writers, the basics are real. He used to regularly drink himself into unconsciousness, he killed Kleitos in anger and spent three days in bed after that, he was suicidal at times, thought himself a god. And Alexander the Crying Hero is another nod to ancient myths, much like the dialogue: Odysseus spends a large part of the Odyssey crying over his fate, the great Achilles cries on several occasions in the Iliad and is inconsolable after Patroclos' death; Herakles spent a lot of his time weeping, etc. Stone's Alexander is no modern hero.
The homosexuality.
Holy crap, has this raised some furious debate. I must admit I don't get why. Alexander loved men AND women, period. It's a fact. In his day and age, all men did. His lifelong "affair" with Hephaistion made him an unconventionally boring specimen of Macedonian manhood, if anything, because he didn't have several male lovers over the course of his life (as the rest of men in Greece and Greek influenced countries did) but only one for as long as he lived.
And I think it would have been easier to just print a flashing disclaimer into the copy, saying "Remember, everyone, Alexander is actually bisexual." Because we are reminded of this revelation every few minutes. And yet, so in love, Al concentrates on a Vangelis-accompanied hero-speech while his lover writhes, out of focus, in the background, and dies.
Hm. There are three or four scenes in a three-hour movie that hint at his love for Hephaistion. Not exactly what I'd call "every few minutes".
And lastly, Hephaistion's death scene: The real Alexander wasn't in the room when Hephaistion died. He had had him put in his own room so he could be close to him, but left briefly as the doctors told him that Hephaistion wasn't dying. When the message reached him that he was, in fact, dying, Alexander couldn't make it back to the room in time.
By having stand Alexander at the window looking out with Hephaistion dying in the background, Stone seems to incorporate this fact. Yet in this scene he also portrays Alexander as someone who has lost touch with reality; Alexander's speech and the juxtaposition of Hephaistion's death in the background is an artistic device. Alexander speaks of the future, their sons playing together like they themselves did when they were young, the both of them conquering Arabia in the following spring, etc., while Hephaistion dies, unnoticed by Alexander. By that time his dreams and his vision are already entirely incompatible with reality. He has lost it. Literally. After coming all this way from Pella to Babylon, in his final days his grasp on reality doesn't even suffice to have him realize that his friend and lover is dying while he is daydreaming. In the end, Alexander was defeated by the myths he was trying to build around himself.
Okay, I'll stop here because uh, long.