In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale (2007) – Review

There are bad ideas, and then there’s Uwe Boll staring into the cinematic void and declaring himself its king. With In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale, Boll, or as I like to imagine him introducing himself at parties, Uwe “I’m the only genius in the industry” Boll, makes another glorious attempt at translating a video game to the big screen. To absolutely no one’s surprise, he once again delivers a large, steaming pile of cinematic dung that probably had half the cast quietly googling “how to remove film from IMDb” between takes.

The story centres on a farmer who is named Farmer (Jason Statham), because apparently subtlety was outlawed in the kingdom of Ehb. Even his wife, Solana (Claire Forlani), calls him Farmer, which is less a nickname and more a cry for help. Naturally, this “Farmer” is not just a humble turnip enthusiast but a secret action hero with a mysterious past, because heaven forbid anyone in this movie just be what they say they are. When his son Zeph (Colin Ford) gets murdered by the low-rent orc knockoffs known as the Krug, and Solana is kidnapped, Farmer flips the switch into vengeance mode and sets off with his brother-in-law, Bastian (Will Sanderson), and Norick (Ron Perlman), another man with a past so mysterious that the movie barely bothers to explain it coherently.

“Is three enough to make a Fellowship?”

Meanwhile, the kingdom is under threat from Gallian (Ray Liotta), an evil Magus who spends most of his screen time delivering his lines like he’s trying to win a shouting contest no one else entered. He controls the Krug, who are somehow both mindless beasts and disciplined soldiers, depending entirely on what the scene needs to limp forward. King Konreid (Burt Reynolds) and his court scramble to respond, while Duke Fallow (Matthew Lillard) plots betrayal with all the subtlety of a man aggressively winking at the audience. There’s also Merick (John Rhys-Davies), a wizard who exists primarily to dump exposition like he’s being paid per paragraph, and to remind us of a better fantasy epic.

“I happen to have Peter Jackson on speed dial.”

Farmer and his merry band wander through forests, meet nymphs led by Elora (Kristanna Loken), and stumble from one generic fantasy set-piece to another. Along the way, Norick and Bastian get captured, Farmer gets hanged and then just sort of… unhanged, and Merick reveals that Farmer is actually Camden Konreid, long-lost prince and heir to the throne. This revelation lands with all the emotional impact of someone announcing the weather, mostly because the movie forgot to make us care about any of these people.

“Whatever, just point me to the next plot point.”

The final act is a chaotic stew of battles, betrayals, and last-minute heroics. Norick dies, because of course he does. Solana gets rescued after briefly becoming a magical plot device, and Gallian is defeated in a sword fight that feels less like a climax and more like an obligation. Farmer, now Camden, becomes king, the Krug go back to being dumb animals, and the kingdom is saved. You sit there, staring at the screen, wondering how something so loud and busy can feel so completely empty.

“I will not be returning for the sequels.”

Stray Observations:

• Farmer has the fighting skills of Aragon and Captain America combined, but we are never given any explanation as to how he got those skills. The big revelation about his past does not explain this at all.
• Burt Reynolds is starting to look like Richard Lynch due to one too many plastic surgeries.
• Ray Liotta as the evil sorcerer Gallian is so badly miscast that I longed for Jeremy Irons hamming it up in Dungeons and Dragons during all his scenes.
• All the battles are fought in the woods when that would be tactically the dumbest thing an army could do.
• I love John Rhys-Davies, but he is no Gandalf. He should have stuck to playing dwarves.
• Leelee Sobieski is no Arwen. She was so bad, I kept wishing Nicholas Cage would show up in a bear suit to punch her in the face.
• Farmer never wears anything but his stupid shirt, even when he decides to hook up with the army and then becomes king. Did no one have a spare chain mail shirt he could borrow?
• Jason Statham cannot deliver rousing speeches. In fact, I doubt he could inspire a group of Cub Scouts.
• Having your showdown between the hero (Farmer in full Aragon mode) against the villain (Gallian in full Saruman mode) makes little to no sense, as Gallian had been clearly established to be a very powerful wizard, so having him up against a non-magic user should have this fight lasting about ten seconds.

Is this a magic duel or a sword duel? I’m confused.

Now, getting into the meat of this glorious disaster. The film isn’t as technically bad as some of Boll’s previous outings, which isn’t saying much. House of the Dead was a completely bonkers mess, but that is actually a strike against this movie, because at least that one had the decency to be entertaining in its insanity. Here, Boll tries to make an epic with the scope of Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings trilogy, but with a tenth of the budget and even less talent, and he fails on about every level. The scenes that are direct rip-offs from Jackson’s films just make it worse, like watching someone trace a masterpiece and then proudly hang it on the fridge.

Beware of discount orcs!

At two hours, it already feels longer than The Lord of the Rings trilogy combined, mostly because you care about absolutely no one. The characters are paper-thin, the dialogue clunks along like it’s being dragged uphill, and the pacing somehow manages to crawl and sprint at the same time. Then you discover there’s a director’s cut that balloons to an ungodly two hours and forty-two minutes, which feels less like a bonus and more like a threat. When the heroic conclusion finally limps across the finish line, the overwhelming reaction is a tired shrug and the faint realization that it absolutely could have been worse. It almost was.

Beware of Cirque du Soleil elves!

Then there’s the cast, which looks impressive on paper and baffling in execution. Jason Statham spends most of the film looking like he’s waiting for someone to yell “cut” so he can go do a better movie. Burt Reynolds seems half-asleep, Ray Liotta chews scenery like it owes him money, and Matthew Lillard dials everything up to eleven for reasons known only to him. The only bright spot is Ron Perlman, who, as always, commits fully, delivering a performance that belongs in a much better film. It’s almost touching, like watching someone show up overdressed to a costume party.

“I’m not just good, I’m bloody Ron Perlman!”

Boll’s track record with video game adaptations is already the stuff of legend, and not the kind anyone brags about at dinner. He has an uncanny ability to take source material with built-in audiences and reshape it into something that satisfies absolutely no one, which is almost impressive in a grim, scientific way. His direction here is flat, his sense of pacing barely qualifies as a pulse, and his understanding of what makes fantasy compelling seems limited to “people in armour hitting each other.” It’s less outright incompetence and more a stubborn refusal to evolve, all wrapped up in a glossy layer of bargain-bin early 2000s CGI that somehow makes everything look cheaper than it already is.

“Assemble the CGI army!”

In conclusion, In the Name of the King is a film that aspires to greatness and lands somewhere in the general vicinity of mediocrity’s basement. It’s not the worst sword-and-sorcery film ever made, but that faint praise feels almost insulting considering the resources thrown at it. If the money had been spent on a good script and handed to a director with actual vision, you might have had something halfway decent. Instead, what you get is a bloated, joyless fantasy that exists mostly as a cautionary tale about what happens when ambition and ability never bother to meet.