It's clear that medieval England did not have its own versionof Dr. Ruth. However, if it did, she certainly would have been aghast at the repressive suits of armor worn by Uther (Gabriel Byrne), his son, King Arthur (Nigel Terry) and Arthur's most loyal knight, Lancelot (Nicholas Clay). From the word go, one knight's erection is a million peasants' misery.
First, Uther gets the hots for the Duke's wife, Igrayne (Katrine Boorman), and has Merlin (Nicol Williamson) cast a spell that has dire consequences for Uther and his kingdom. Then, the second Arthur becomes king and hops into the tight-fitting armor, the little head leads the big head right to Guenevere (Cerie Lunghi). Then Lancelot, the knight in the shiniest, tightest armor of all, shows up and realizes he too is in love with Guenevere, which results in a pain in his heart and loins that could bring Arthur's entire kingdom to ruin. Fortunately, every time Lancelot's unit begins banging on the inside of his crotch guard he makes an excuse to run out in the forest and get naked amongst the trees, presumably to buff his sword, so to speak.
Naturally, when members of the aristocracy want to get their rocks off, it's the peasants who really get screwed. As Arthur forgets he's one with the land, director John Boorman forgets about being one with the story. The movie begins to drag as Arthur wastes away while his knights search for the Holy Grail and his evil sister, Morgana (Helen Mirren), plots to take over the kingdom. It would seem that somewhere along the way Boorman became a little self-absorbed and forgot that he had a story editor on the payroll. As a result, Boorman does an excellent job making us feel like peasants, for while he's getting his rocks off, we're getting screwed.
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