Viking Night: Flash Gordon
By Bruce Hall
February 1, 2011
BoxOfficeProphets.com

You know his name is Flash. It says so right there on his shirt.
Most consumers have no problem loving a huge budget blockbuster. Movies that are meant to appeal to the widest possible audience usually do just that. But some films have a narrower vision, or simply contain more complex meaning than meets the eye. They aren't always art, and they aren't always even very successful. But for a devoted and eccentric few, they're the best entertainment money can buy. Once, beginning with Erik the Viking, a group of dedicated irregulars gathered weekly in a dingy dorm room to watch these films and discuss how what pleases the few might also appeal to the many. Time has separated the others in those discussions so that I alone remain to ponder the wider significance of cult cinema. But while the room is cleaner and I no longer have to skip class to do it, I still think of my far off friends whenever I hold Viking Night.

Don’t worry, Jets fans. Big Ben might be going to the Super Bowl but your quarterback has bigger fish to fry. I’m not talking about Mark Sanchez; I’m talking about a guy who can actually pull off a throw into press coverage at the goal line. I’m talking about Flash Gordon. That’s right, Flash Gordon, King of the Impossible! Right now, one of two things is happening. You either have no idea what I’m talking about or you’re rolling your eyes trying not to remember one of the biggest box office failures of the past 35 years. Either way that’s too bad, because you’ve either missed out or you’ve missed the point. I’ve always had a problem with the way we tend to judge films primarily based on box office rather than whether the thing accomplished an aesthetic goal. Hollywood is a business, of course, and the bottom line is the bottom line. But making movies is also an art – and what makes a work of art successful is whether or not it connects with its intended audience.

When it doesn’t, sometimes it is the artist’s fault but occasionally you have to blame the peanut gallery, too. Sometimes a film has trouble hitting the target because it is so exceptionally unique and incomparable it is almost doomed to fail from inception. If there’s one thing rank and file moviegoers appreciate it is familiarity, and when they have no point of reference for something they usually have trouble identifying with it. This is the legacy of Flash Gordon, a movie so unlike anything you’ve ever seen that you’ll want to hate it immediately. But if you can let go of your cynicism and embrace what makes it so special, I promise you’ll have the time of your life. In fact, there are times when I’ve wondered what it would be like to quit my job and just watch this movie over and over again until I pass out. Stay with me, and you’ll find out why.

By 1980, the movie business was in a state of change. The unprecedented success of Star Wars meant that every studio with more than one camera was trying to figure out a way to get on the sci-fi bandwagon. The results were profound; Star Wars itself (1977) was breezy fun, but grounded in a universe we could all understand. Superman (1978) proved that a superhero film didn’t have to be bad to be good. Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979) managed to become almost as popular as it was pretentious. Alien (1979) was a dramatic, frightening, awe inspiring opus to everything that makes great movies great. And then there was Flash Gordon.

Producer Dino De Laurentiis managed to convince Universal that the young sci-fi resurgence was ready to support a pricey, tongue-in-cheek homage. He was wrong and the result was financially disastrous, but you can’t blame them for striking hot iron. Star Wars successfully captured the lighthearted tone of an old radio epic, but that film’s look and feel was modern and accessible. Flash Gordon held nothing back, with writer Lorenzo Semple, Jr. and production designer Danilo Donati instructed to party like it was 1939. Their creation emulated the primitive nature of old school story-telling right down to the ham-fisted dialogue, outrageous villains and wildly colorful sets and costumes. The effects sported a deliberately low budget look, and the plot contained so much cheeky homoerotic subtext that it’s almost hard to believe the PG rating. But the film’s decadent, over-the-top style was a relic and the idea of delivering such a meticulously designed and intentional tribute to the past was something audiences simply didn’t understand.

That really is unfortunate, because rare is the film that so successfully nails its source material. Even rarer is the film that so completely transports you into another universe that you find yourself staring at the screen agape with the reverence of a child. It’s more than just a story – it’s an experience. And speaking of story, this one is lifted straight from World War II era canon, and therefore could just about fit on a cocktail napkin. The Earth is under attack by a strange alien force that’s destroying the atmosphere. Flash Gordon (Sam Jones) and the lovely Dale Arden (Melody Anderson) are on board a plane when a freak firestorm forces it down, right through the front door of the famous Dr. Hans Zarkov (Haim Topol). Naturally, Zarkov is the only scientist on earth who understands the true nature of the crisis. Naturally, he also happens to be bat guano insane. And naturally he forces Flash and Dale into his home made rocket, blasting them all into a parallel reality where they hope to find the source of the attack.

If you’re having trouble accepting all of this, please don’t worry. The clunky setup is mercifully brief, and I guarantee it’s the last time you’ll look at your watch for the next 90 minutes. The pace picks up as our travelers arrive in the fantastic kingdom of Mongo, an extravagantly colorful place that looks like Joel Schumacher’s birthday. They discover that Mongo is populated by a handful of eccentric races; all kept at war by their despotic ruler, Ming the Merciless (Max Von Sydow). Ming subjects the Earthlings to unspeakable horrors, and soon Flash and his friends realize that the only way to save the Earth is to unite the warring races against Ming and fight together for freedom. The ending is never in doubt, nobody important gets hurt and in the end, we all learn a valuable lesson about friendship, loyalty and overuse of primary colors.

But what’s more important is that Flash Gordon is such relentless, zany fun that if you’re in the right frame of mind you just can’t help but fall in love with it. Flash Gordon is homage in every sense of the word, fully evocative of the old radio shows your grandfather might have loved as a boy. I tend to think that people who dislike this film or have avoided seeing it are making the mistake of taking it seriously. How can you, when Ming’s henchmen show up to take on Flash dressed in red Lycra jumpsuits and gold lamé man-thongs? How can you not love it when the all powerful Ruler of the Universe questions his visitors, and Flash defiantly identifies himself as starting quarterback of the New York Jets – a team that was 4-12 the year this movie was filmed? I won’t go so far as to say Sam Jones was well cast as Flash because he really is a terrible, terrible (not a misprint, I meant to say it twice) actor. But this only makes Flash’s childlike bewilderment seem even more realistic and somehow appropriate. After all, the man spends most of the movie looking handsome and getting captured; he succeeds because he’s a likable guy, not because he knows what he’s doing. He’s less a buffoon or a hero than he is just a guy with a heart of gold who doesn’t know how to quit. You couldn’t hate him if you wanted to.

And how can you not love rock super group Queen and their melodramatic space-opera soundtrack? How can you not adore Timothy Dalton as Prince Barin, cranking up those formidable stage acting chops all the way to eleven? It's as if he had no idea how silly it all was. Or perhaps thanks to his Shakespearean past, he's just used to wearing green tights and reciting incomprehensible dialogue. There’s the incomparable Max Von Sydow as Ming, literally chewing on discarded strips of 35mm film in every scene. And then there’s Brian Blessed as Vultan, who nearly steals the show every time he’s on screen. I suppose he decided that when you’re wearing leather underwear, giant foam wings and carrying a plastic ray gun, you might as well just have a good time with it. In other words, this isn’t a Ridley Scott joint – this is pure make-believe unlike any film ever made except perhaps The Wizard of Oz. This is a story about the impossible; the important thing isn’t who your characters are, or even where they come from. It’s what they do in the now that makes them heroes; how they react at the moment cartoonishly improbable threats first unfold.

This is fantasy of the most innocent kind; if you could get into the mind of a ten-year-old boy and film his idea of a hero saving the universe, this movie is pretty much what you’d come up with. That’s the way you have to watch it, with the forgiving wonder and openness of a child. That’s the beauty of storytelling; simple tales based on fundamental concepts with swashbuckling heroes and outrageous villains inspire others to one day create their own worlds. More than anything, this is the wonderfully corny essence of Flash Gordon. He isn’t modern and nuanced, brooding and filled with self doubt. He’s a delightful anachronism, a hero from another time. He’s a relentlessly optimistic, all American guy with a straightforward set of values: Never lie, always do the right thing, always protect the innocent. He’s Tim Tebow with a ray gun and a rocket ship. And if I ever find myself trapped in an alternate universe opposite a maniac with a disintegrator ring and a wardrobe like the Emperor of China, there’s only one guy I want on my side. He’ll stand for all of us, and he’ll save every one of us. He’s miracle - Flash Gordon, quarterback of the New York Jets and Savior of the Universe!