September 20, 2002 | If
you’re the type of moviegoer who’s
always complaining that “they sure don’t make them like they
used to,” take a gander at The Four Feathers and you’ll
understand why they don’t. A ponderously stiff and thoroughly
unnecessary version of A.E.W. Mason’s
oft-filmed adventure novel about the glory days of the British Empire,
the film offers a couple of reasonably rousing battle scenes, and not
much else.
If you strain your eyes, you might spot
a couple of provocatively relevant plot points – after all, the story pivots on Western forces in
a far-off land, in pursuit of explicitly Muslim foes – that might
explain why director Shekhar Kapur (who also gave us the thoughtfully
revisionist and brazenly entertaining Elizabeth) was drawn to
this moldy material in the first place. But except for a few, fleeting
scenes that subtly criticize, or frankly satirize, the whole notion of “the
white’s man burden,” Four Feathers is scarcely more
enlightened, and far less entertaining, than similar guts-and-glory epics
of the 1930s and ’40s.
Heath Ledger plays Harry Feversham, a British
army general’s
son who has earned an officer’s rank in the Royal Cumbrians and,
more important, won the heart of Ethne (Kate Hudson), the beautiful daughter
of another officer. The year is 1884, a good time to be a British solider
if you’re keen on the idea of fighting for queen and country. But
when Harry’s regiment is ordered to the Sudan to fight the good
fight against “ Mohammedan fanatics,” our hero quite reasonably
has second thoughts about a long-term military career. “I sometimes
wonder,” he tells a comrade, “what a godforsaken desert in
the middle of nowhere has to do with her majesty the queen.”
Doubt leads to drastic action – Harry resigns his commission
just before his regiment ships out – which in turn leads to disgrace.
Harry receives four feathers – the mark of a coward – from
three embittered ex-comrades and his deeply disappointed fiancée.
He responds with a stiff upper lip – well, OK, with a slightly
quivering upper lip, and a couple of teary eyes – but he isn’t
moved to mend his craven ways until he learns that Jack Durrance (Wes
Bentley), his best friend and sometime romantic rival, and other members
of his former regiment are being attacked by rebel forces.
Harry vows to redeem himself by taking
a solo trip to the African desert, disguising himself as a nomadic
Arab – with a beard and make-up
that, alas, make him look more like a grungy, sunburnt Brad Pitt – and
gaining the invaluable assistance of Abou Fatma (Djimon Hounsou of Amistad),
a wily African mercenary.
It doesn’t help much that the performances given by Ledger, Bentley
and Hudson are even more unconvincing than Ledger’s makeup. And
it helps even less that, with its narrative gaps and ragged continuity, Four
Feathers feels a lot like a long movie that was whittled down from
a much longer one.
The filmmakers try to be as politically
correct as they possibly can while still allowing some of the rowdier
British troops to address people of color as “wogs.” But Djimon Hounsou doesn’t really
need any affirmative-action help to steal the movie from the fair-skinned
folks who are its nominal stars. His movements are gravely graceful,
his screen presence is effortlessly magnetic – and his authoritative
line readings abundantly convey fierce pride, quick wit and cunning intelligence.
After Abou saves Harry’s bacon for the 15 th or 20 th time, even
Harry has to question why the big guy bothers. Abou patiently explains: “God
put you in my way. I have no choice.” As a film critic who often
must cope with misfires such as The Four Feathers, I know exactly
what he means.