Ill-Informed Gadfly

I’m not sure if it’s a failure of imagination on the part of author C.S. Lewis or director Andrew Adamson, but I get the impression watching these movies that Narnia is about the size of Rhode Island. I’m tempted to blame Adamson, though: The “Narnia” series is shot in New Zealand, which provided Peter Jackson with enough locations to suggest the vast sweep of Middle Earth in the far superior “Lord of the Rings” trilogy. There’s no place in Narnia that our heroes can’t walk to in half a day.

Narnia appears sparsely populated as well. My internal crowd estimator, honed at years of news and sporting events, counted roughly eightscore native Narnians. Presumably the dwarves, centaurs and fauns have been so decimated after centuries of ethnic cleansing by the Telmarines that they’ve resorted to inbreeding. And by the end of the movie, 100 of them are dead! “The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian” has a remarkably high body count, and Peter Pevensie, despite bravely claiming that he’s learned all he can from Narnia and won’t be returning, really ought to see a counselor for his post-traumatic stress disorder. It can’t be pleasant to have led so many of his former subjects to bloody deaths. He may have been known as “Peter the Magnificent” during his time as king, but as a combat general, he’s so inept he’d make Ambrose Burnside cringe.

The Pevensie siblings, of course, ruled Narnia for decades after freeing the land from the wintry clutches of the evil White Witch in the previous installment, “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.” But when they are whisked back to England, they’re children once again: Time in Narnia and on Earth do not progress concurrently. In the new movie, the rapidly maturing Pevensies find a new portal to Narnia on a subway platform. Once there, they discover that 1,300 years have passed since their reign, and the brutal, paranoid Talmarines — an olive-skinned race of men who speak with Mediterranean accents — have taken over. Lewis’ weirdly paternalistic vision – the humanoid or talking-animal denizens of Narnia prosper only when governed by a “Son of Adam” – takes on an imperialistic slant this time around. A proper Son of Adam must be pale and preferably a product of exclusive grammar schools. The swarthy, funny-talking types cannot be trusted to rule as benevolent tyrants. These outmoded attitudes — along with the Christian undertones — make it hard for me to believe I’m being whisked away to a magical place. Of course, it’s not the sort of stuff I noticed when I read the books as a kid, and I doubt the target demographic of 7-to-13s will have any complaints about ”Prince Caspian.”

Like “Wardrobe,” “Prince Caspian” is sturdily plotted: Lewis understood how to construct a story in which actions have consequences and incidents build upon one another. It’s a skill that’s sorely lacking in modern screenwriters, and the “Narnia” writing team of Adamson, Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely deserves credit for not reducing the movie to a series of set pieces. At the same time, though, I don’t think “Prince Caspian” is one of the more inspired efforts in Lewis’s seven-book series. It feels like a sequel bereft of ideas: Lewis simply sends the same kids back to Narnia and gets them into a bunch of battles. (The third book, “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader,” rediscovers the sense of wonder that made “Wardrobe” so memorable.)

In the movie, the battles just go on and on and on. Adamson is at best a competent hack at staging action, ripping off techniques from Peter Jackson, Ridley Scott, Mel Gibson et. al. I got the feeling the 2-hour, 20-minute movie would be at least a reel shorter if Adamson had simply resisted the urge to shoot in slow motion while one of the Pevensies yells “Nooooo!!” or “For Narniaaa!” or whatever. Such uninspired moviemaking contributes to the feeling that we’ve seen this all before and that “Narnia” is “Lord of the Rings” lite, particularly since the climactic battle sequence takes its cues from the seige of Helm’s Deep, all the way down to the last minute bailout from a deus ex machina (in this case, Aslan the Jesus-lion).

The actors playing the Pevensies (William Moseley, Anna Popplewell, Skandar Keynes and Georgie Henley) have grown into confident performers, with Popplewell in particular suggesting a rich emotional life for the elder girl, Susan. Peter Dinklage is admirably dour as the stalwart dwarf Trumpkin. As the title character, Ben Barnes talks like Manuel from “Fawlty Towers” while sporting the prettiest hair in all the kingdom. The movie lacks the commanding presences of first-rate thespians like Tilda Swinton (reduced to a cameo this time around) or James McAvoy. Actors like that can make seen-it-all adult moviegoers as slack-jawed and giddy as younger fans. I wasn’t bored or despondent at “Prince Caspian” — it’s sturdy and competent – but I fear that I’ll come to regard the ”Narnia” series as a duty rather than a pleasure.