Rating summary

Movie		3.5
Video		3.5
Audio		4.0
Extras		2.5
Overall		3.5

Conan the Barbarian Blu-ray Movie Review

"What is best in life?" A more definitive Blu-ray release would be a good start...

Reviewed by Kenneth Brown July 26, 2011

Feeling down? Have three minutes to spare? Click here. Finished? If you felt rage stirring in your gut; if the word "blasphemy" burned your tongue; if you shook your head and scowled at the screen, you may want to reevaluate your unfettered devotion to John Milius' 1982 fantasy classic, Conan the Barbarian. Don't get me wrong, I have a soft spot for Conan. I could watch it three times a week and still walk away with a dopey grin on my face. But the key to enjoying Conan -- to truly enjoying Conan -- is to admit that, beneath all the savage swordplay and sorcery, between its geysers of blood and musclebound madness, beyond its disarming first act, it amounts to unabashed genre fun. And, yes, sometimes that fun is of the Big Dumb variety. Admitting as much doesn't make it a lesser film, and conceding that it hasn't aged as well as it could have isn't tantamount to cinematic treason. A quote-unquote classic doesn't need to withstand the test of time to endure the ages, and it doesn't need to be taken so seriously to be savored. So kick back, dear readers. Conan the Barbarian isn't a perfect classic, but it is a whole lotta fun.

"The secret of steel has always carried with it a mystery. You must learn its riddle..."

Shortly after learning about his Cimmerian heritage and his people's connection to Crom, the god of Earth and steel, a young boy by the name of Conan (Jorge Sanz) watches helplessly as his parents are killed and his entire village is razed by Scythian warriors led by the evil sorcerer Thulsa Doom (an icy eyed James Earl Jones). Conan is spared, though, and sold into slavery and chained to a device dubbed "The Wheel of Pain" to serve out his life as a mindless workhorse. Slowly but surely, the years melt away, and the fragile boy is unceremoniously transformed into a hulking meat-locker of a brute (Arnold Schwarzenegger) who's purchased by yet another slave master, trained as a pit fighter and taught to value -- what else? -- crushing his enemies, seeing them driven before him and hearing the lamentation of their women. But Conan eventually escapes his chains, literally and otherwise, and attracts the company of three invaluable companions: the archer Subotai (Gerry Lopez), the thief Valeria (Sandahl Bergman) and, later, the wizard Akiro (Mako). Soon, Conan also crosses paths with the loyal servants of Thulsa Doom -- a cult that worships the snake god, Set -- and realizes revenge, at long last, is within his grasp.

To say Milius' film is loosely based on author Robert E. Howard's original "Conan the Barbarian" tales would be an understatement. Milius' Conan is a different creature entirely and shares little in common with Howard's Conan, or the personality, motivations, quick-thinking and charisma that have long defined the character on the page. Howard's Conan (and many later incarnations of the swordsman) is a cunning adventurer; as clever as he is powerful, as deadly as he is daring, as fierce as he is fearless. Milius' Conan, at least initially, is a lost puppy by comparison. A vicious, dangerous pup, mind you -- one that would just as soon rip out a man's throat as curl up beside him -- but still more of a wayward vagrant than a decisive, as-yet-unmatched warrior. His self-awareness, intelligence and authority evolve as the film plows ahead, no doubt. There just aren't many defining moments other than those our defiant hero stumbles into thanks to twists of fate and a bit of dumb luck. Both Milius' re-workings of Conan's origin and Schwarzenegger's casting take a toll -- say what you will about the trailers for Marcus Nispel's upcoming Conan the Barbarian; Jason Momoa is more suited to the role -- but it's primarily Milius' desire to strip Conan down to such fundamentally different base elements that is to blame. In his world, brawn trumps brains at every turn; so long as that brawn is dispensed by way of the lumbering sword-swings of an Austrian bodybuilder-turned-leading-man.

Of course, if the faithfulness of an adaptation was the sole criteria for judging its success, Hollywood would be in a lot of trouble. (I know, I know. Some of you are thinking, "it is, and that's the reason it is." Let's not get hung up on an age-old debate.) Milius' Conan may not be Howard's Conan, but as far as bloodthirsty barbarians and dark adventures are concerned, Milius' Conan isn't a dull titular warrior by any means, and the quest for revenge he embarks upon is a thrilling, altogether satisfying march into the heart of Thulsa Doom's fortress. The physical and philosophical contest between the mettle of Crom's steel and the lure of Set's flesh, the bloody battles Conan wages with both worldly and otherworldly forces, the tragedy that befalls him as a boy and the near-perfect symmetry of his inevitable vengeance, his friendship with Subotai and his belated coming-of-age rights of passage, his clashes with Doom (James Earl Jones steals entire scenes, perhaps even the entire film, as the stoic serpent-worshiping villain)... Conan traverses so many peaks that it's all too easy to trudge through its valleys without complaining. Much. Jones may steal entire scenes, but Bergman sinks just as many; Schwarzenegger may excel at times, but his limited range as an actor is quite apparent at others; unintentional campiness lurks in the shadows of the second and third acts; and some of the dialogue -- by Crom, some of the dialogue -- is excruciating. Again, though, it's the fun of Conan that keeps Milius' warrior in the fight; it's the solemn character beats, the war of swords and sorcery, and the dark lifeblood that pulses through the film's arteries that help it lift its head when specific scenes or performances beat it down.

Close scrutiny tends to sully Conan the Barbarian. It's best served as escapism, and early '80s escapism at that. Before the advent and spread of CG made fantasy a viable and, for arguably the first time in film history, a profitable genre, films like Conan -- good fantasy films -- were an absolute rarity. CG-spoiled newcomers may balk at Milius' snake gods and wispy spirits; those who weren't reared in the '80s may have a good laugh at Schwarzenegger's expense; and those prone to cast off a movie the moment it begins to show its wrinkles will leave Conan in the dust. But for those weened on Ahnuld and '80s guilty (or not-so-guilty) pleasures like Conan the Barbarian will feel right at home, even some thirty years after its debut.

Conan the Barbarian Blu-ray Movie, Video Quality 

Like the film itself, there's a lot to love about Conan's 1080p/AVC-encoded transfer. Unfortunately, there's a lot to loathe as well. First, the good. It's safe to say Conan the Barbarian has never looked better than it does here. Those who own previous releases of the film can start building DVD funeral pyres now. Shadows seem a tad oppressive and black levels are a bit more overpowering than I anticipated, but it seems in line with Milius' doom-tainted vision and Duke Callaghan's mud-n-blood cinematography. And while several key scenes are subsequently darker, color accuracy, fleshtone saturation, black depth, encode proficiency and fine detailing are also more remarkable. Primaries exhibit raw strength (despite some dullness when the sun peaks or sets), faces are warm and lifelike, the darkness is suitably foreboding (even though its hue is sometimes more akin to charcoal), anomalies like artifacting and banding aren't a factor, object definition is relatively sharp (more on that in a minute), and fine textures are naturally resolved... for the most part. Which brings us to the transfer's issues. Although many a closeup and midrange shot is quite impressive, others simply don't fare as well. Some of the shortcomings trace back to softness inherent to the original photography -- that much I can forgive -- but some trace back to digital manipulation via arguably judicious, thankfully intermittent noise reduction. Minor to mild edge halos are also a distraction; one that caught my eye here and there throughout the film (wherever heavier edge enhancement had been utilized). Other oddities surface too. Grain, though refined on the whole, sometimes grows thick and soupy; nicks and scratches, while minor, nevertheless creep into the image; and contrast isn't entirely consistent or stable. Even so, Conan the Barbarian survives the worst of it. In fact, I suspect some will award it a more favorable video score than I have. If it weren't for the obvious mishaps, I probably would have smiled, nodded and called it a higher scoring day.

Conan the Barbarian Blu-ray Movie, Audio Quality 

Universal's DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track isn't hindered by anything other than the age of its elements. Dialogue is clean, clear and well-prioritized on the whole (despite the fact that some lines are a bit shrill and others are muffled) and sound effects exhibit welcome strength and presence (likewise, despite some prevailing tinniness). The rear speakers are certainly active, boisterous even at times, and help craft an unexpectedly immersive experience. Basil Poledouris' original score follows suit, filling the stage with deep, earthy music that extends back and across the soundfield with startling ease and power. Not all of the orchestration is as crisp or precise as modern filmfans are used to, but for an early '80s production, the bellowing horn flurries and beating war drums that invade the soundscape are mercilessly precise. The LFE channel is up to the task as well, imbuing splitting stones, rumbling earth, cracking thunder, surging storms and the roar of battle with enough ferocity to draw in anyone in earshot. Dynamics are dependent on the now-thirty-year old source and falter accordingly, and directionality isn't exactly awe-inspiring (or prevalent, really). But fans of Milius' Conan the Barbarian will be most pleased with the end result.

Conan the Barbarian Blu-ray Movie, Special Features and Extras 

The Blu-ray edition of Conan the Barbarian only features a single cut of the film -- Milius' 129-minute version -- and very little in the way of new supplemental content. There are two exclusives to be had, but only the most devoted fans will be the least bit excited once they actually dig into each one. Seeing as Conan's extended cut and its oft-discussed but long-lost scenes are MIA, those hoping for a more exhaustive, more definitive high definition release will have to continue waiting.

• Audio Commentary: "Look at that. That is such a wild scene. The whole place is burning down." Director John Milius and actor Arnold Schwarzenegger wade through Conan at a deliberate pace, pausing along the way to soak in the sights and sounds of the film. But they tend to get wrapped up in watching rather than discussing, narrating entire scenes with monotone awe, complementing everyone and everything that appears on screen and, ultimately, offering little in the way of in-depth production insight. While there are some great anecdotes sprinkled throughout, enough details to keep things mildly interesting and a few laughs to be had, their chat is tiresome at best.
• Conan Unchained: The Making of Conan (SD, 53 minutes): As behind-the-scenes tell-alls go, "Conan Unchained" is pretty good. It's a bit glossy around the edges and isn't nearly as current a retrospective as I would have liked, sure, but it's thorough, packed with cast and crew interviews, and touches on almost every aspect of the film's production (at least to some degree). You'll have to give your eyes some time to adjust, though. It's about as poorly encoded as standard-definition documentaries get.
• Art of Steel: Sword Makers and Masters (HD, 15 minutes): This over-produced featurette is exactly what it purports to be: an overview of the work that goes into designing and forging swords. However, it isn't a look-back at the weapons of Milius' Conan. It's primarily a look at the techniques -- digital-scanning and all -- used by the 21st century sword makers at Albion Armorers.
• Conan: From the Vault (HD, 10 minutes): Comprised of re-discovered interviews shot on set in 1982, this Blu-ray exclusive is a nice little treat, even if it doesn't amount to much.
• Special Effects (SD, 2 minutes): A short before-and-after scene comparison, minus any context that might reveal the methods, magic or FX wizardry that went into creating some of Conan's more memorable sequences. For completists only.
• The Conan Archives (SD, 12 minutes): A montage of production drawings, paintings, concept art, photos and publicity materials.
• Deleted Scenes (SD, 6 minutes): Five unfinished and unremarkable deleted scenes presented in non-anamorphic standard definition.
• Theatrical Trailers (SD, 4 minutes): Two trailers round out the package.
• BD-Live Functionality and News Ticker
• My Scenes Bookmarking

Conan the Barbarian Blu-ray Movie, Overall Score and Recommendation 

With Marcus Nispel's reboot/reimagining/revamp of the same name storming theaters in August, there's no time like the present to reacquaint yourself with (or introduce yourself to) John Milius and Arnold Schwarzenegger's stab Robert E. Howard's iconic swordsman. No, Milius' Conan the Barbarian isn't a faithful adaptation and, no, it isn't impervious to the passage of time, it's still -- say it with me -- a whole lotta fun. If nothing else, it stands as one of the few swords-n-sorcery fantasy films of the '80s you can watch (and even enjoy) without issuing an apology to anyone who catches you in the act. So is Universal's Blu-ray release up to snuff? Not quite. While its DTS-HD Master Audio track sounds great, its video transfer has a few issues and its supplemental package leaves a lot to be desired. Be that as it may, Conan fans shouldn't hesitate to add it to their carts, especially at such a reasonable pricepoint. Its presentation may not be ideal, but it still beats its DVD counterpart to a pulp and stands, issues or no, as the best release of the film to date.