Saved by the Racing Ostriches

If you like rock climbing, bungee jumping and similarly insane sports, then by all means go see “Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time.�

The usual video game kung fu effects give way here to leaping about on roofs and parapets — more “Crouching Tiger� than “Iron Man 2.�

   Prince Dastan, played by Jake Gyllenhaal, scampers all over the various palaces, city gates, sacred temples and portals of doom with a fine disregard for the law of gravity.

   If it’s a coherent story you’re after, however, then “Prince of Persiaâ€� fails to deliver. Over the weekend I happened to be rereading Dashiell Hammett’s “The Dain Curse,â€� which has a plot that could be politely described as bewildering. This flick makes Hammett’s hard-boiled and  hard to understand classic read like Jack and Jill going up the hill.

See, there’s the King of Persia, and he’s sent his sons out to do something with the army but under no circumstances are they to attack the sacred city of Alamut, ruled by the gorgeous Princess Tamina (Gemma Arterton). But they attack anyway because Ben Kingsley (as the evil Uncle Nizam) cooks up a story about weapons of mass destruction when all he really wants is the sacred magic dagger filled with the sacred magic sands of time so he can go back in the past and arrange things so he (Nizam) can be king instead, but it gets all fouled up because the princess and Dastan escape and they use up the sand and get captured by libertarian outlaws who race ostriches and get attacked by assassins with mystical powers and lots of snakes and . . . never mind.

   About 105 minutes of this two-hour epic is fighting — fighting with swords, scimitars, and daggers; fighting with throwing knives, throwing stars, and a gizmo that looks like one of those deals you chop nuts with; fighting with pointy projectiles, lovingly slowed down and rendered from all sides in computer-generated animation before being allowed on to their destination.

   And snakes. Lots of snakes. Nasty burrowing attack snakes, with wide orange mouths and dripping fangs and beady little snake eyes.

   Alfred Molina steals the show as Sheik Amar, a desert hustler who has carved out a tax-free empire in the wastelands, where he runs fixed ostrich races and curses all forms of taxation and government.

   Gyllenhaal does the best he can with the stiff dialogue and the handicap that someone decided he should look like the late Kurt Cobain — unshaven and greasy. Kingsley’s made up to look like the maitre d’ at a bondage club, and the rest of the cast plods through the thing with the air of people about to be engulfed in an apocalyptic sandstorm unless they can get the dagger and fill it with the special sand and go back in time again and . . . .

   In summary: Jake Gyllenhaal as Kurt Cobain in desert drag. Burrowing attack snakes. Ben Kingsley breaks the Eyeliner Barrier.  Poison prayer cloak. Parimutuel ostrich racing. Libertarian desert rat with improbable Cockney accent. Pulchritudinous princess in regrettably non-diaphanous gown. Gratuitous time travel. Way too much plot getting in the way of the story. Kung fu with pointy projectiles. Leaping over walls, turrets, roofs, parapets, cupolas, balconies, collapsing sand floors and ostriches.

   Because so much of this silly film hinges on getting some more sand to put in the dagger I thought to myself ,“That’s like a video game, where the player gets additional powers from time to time.â€�

   No flies on me — as the credits rolled, there it was: “Based on the video game by Jordan Mechner.â€�

So be warned — “Prince of Persia� is essentially a two-hour video game with about 15 minutes of story — not crummy enough to be irritating, not awful enough to achieve schlock status, and not sufficiently interesting (apart from the racing ostriches) to warrant another thought.

   “Prince of Persia: The Sands of Timeâ€� is rated PG-13 for intense sequences of violence and action. It is playing at the Moviehouse in Millerton, NY, and elsewhere.

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