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In 2009, director Tarsem Singh decided he wanted to tackle the Greek gods on the big screen — and he wanted to do it in a way that combined the style of a Renaissance painting with an action epic. He had an $80 million budget, one of the prickliest and most idiosyncratic movie stars of the 1980s, and Superman himself, Henry Cavill. The end result: 2011's Immortals, one of the most visually striking films of the decade. Zack Snyder's faithful 2006 adaptation of Frank Miller's 300 had proved box office gold several years prior, and the historical context, speed-variable action, and ultra-stylized sequences of Singh's film overlapped a bit with that similar hit — but ultimately, Immortals proved something else entirely.
Singh's vision involved a fresh mix of Caravaggio-inspired frames, outlandish costumes designed by the legendary Eiko Ishioka, and heavy metal album cover-worthy violence. As audiences worldwide flock to the almost sure-to-be billion-dollar event of Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey, Immortals remains a delightful counterpoint and unmatched visual spectacle that's waiting to be rediscovered on streaming.
'Immortals' Turned the Greek Gods Into a Stylish Action/ Horror Film
Veering far away from the classical adventure film template or any potential stodginess that material like this might typically come burdened with, Singh took a unique approach to mythological storytelling that combined grounded performances with psychedelic visuals and design. Its style is so unique that, even in his negative review, Roger Ebert called it "the best-looking awful movie you will ever see."
Take Singh's vision of the Titans, for example. Generally depicted in a classical romantic style as toga-wearing, sculpted humans, the pre-Olympian order in Immortals is a frightening group of black painted, ash-covered, wild-eyed half-men kept standing eternally in a cubical granite prison, biting down on steel rods. Singh's fascination with symmetry, clashing colors, and modern art-inspired design, on full display in his 2000 horror film The Cell, creeps in here, as well.
Ostensibly telling the (completely invented) story of a peasant named Theseus rising up against the tyrant King Hyperion on behalf of an angry cadre of gods above, Immortals is hardly a narrative experience. Mainly, Singh takes the names and very simplest foundations of various gods and monsters, and uses them as paint on his bloody cinematic canvas. Multiple rip-roaring fights feature gods and men alike being skewered, pulverized by hammers, and slashed to ribbons. A god even has their femoral artery pierced. It's purely focused on bloody fun, much in the same way a competent, brainless action film will. While critics widely panned it, audiences anticipating that tone will love it.
The Gods Have Never Looked Better Than in 'Immortals'
Although Immortals features Mickey Rourke and Henry Cavill as leads, the true stars are Singh's painterly eye for blocking and violence, and costume designer Eiko Ishioka. As the villainous Hyperion, Rourke affects a sort of bored menace reminiscent of Phillip Seymour Hoffman's villain in Mission: Impossible 3, while frequently threatening sexual violence. But Ishioka outfits him in a wild variety of extravagant battle helmets, gold masks, and headdresses that make him an even more imposing and flamboyant presence on screen.
The gods are depicted as more human than in other films, dressed in stylish, golden armor that flaunts chiseled six packs similar a la Snyder's 300, but they're mesmerizing to watch in battle. Singh films their actions at full speed, while their enemies are slowed down, to truly showcase the spectacular violence. Blood and entrails hang in the air as whips sing and hammers and tridents are thrown. Singh revels in slow-motion bodily destruction that's as extravagant as the set and costume design.
And when Singh and Ishioka offer their take on the Minotaur, it's similarly inspired. Rather than a straight-up monster, they give us a towering, bellowing man in leather with a thorned, cage-like bull helmet that somehow manages to terrify through sheer brutality as he thrashes Theseus inside an obsidian labyrinth laden with rose petals.
While Nolan's The Odyssey is in another league entirely when it comes to faithfulness to the myths themselves, Immortals makes a fine companion piece. Its visual extravagance and shameless focus on bloodshed as an aesthetic mark it as the last truly successful 300-inspired blockbuster, and it contains enough unforgettable images for half a dozen other films. For pure, high-quality fantasy eye candy, American cinema has rarely exceeded it.
