‘10,000 B.C.’: the next sign of the apocalypse?

There are probably very few who will argue with the fact that Roland Emmerich’s “10,000 B.C.” is stupid. In fact, it’s probably going to be paramount to any discussion of it. However, the discriminating filmgoer must be aware that there are many levels of cinematic stupidity.

To be more specific, then, “10,000 B.C.” is pretty low (high?) on the stupidity totem pole, far removed from the pleasant, amusing stupidity of Emmerich’s own summer popcorn classic, “Independence Day;” it finds itself closer to the dangerous stupidity to be found in the films of Brett Ratner and Michael Bay—the kind of puerile garbage that actively preaches stupidity while pretending that it’s all in good fun and “just a movie!”

Similarly, there are very few critics out there who will not bring up Mel Gibson’s “Apocalypto” in any review of “10,000 B.C.” lasting longer than four words, they being comparable films in the sense that they’re both about ancient civilizations pulled into impromptu war. But barring the fact that Mel ranks as one of the craziest bastards alive, “10,000 B.C.” completely disregards his interesting ideas about the nature of humanity, and how every single Roman Empire throughout the ages has been met with a corresponding pack of barbarians at the gates.

So what is this film actually about? Your guess is as good as mine, but I’ll give it a shot: after a lot of sound and fury concerning a mammoth hunt, our milquetoast caveman hero D’Leh (Steven Strait) goes in search of his childhood love, Evolet (Camilla Belle; and that’s Ev-oh-lett, not Ev-oh-lay), who has been kidnapped by non-descript (but very, very evil) Arabian slave traders, who are apparently sending their ill-gotten gains to some non-descript (possibly Egyptian but in any case very, very evil) Middle Eastern country where they’re forced to build pyramids for the local god-king, who for some reason bears a striking resemblance to Fu Manchu.

Luckily for its target audience, I suppose, Emmerich also forgoes Mel’s predilection to let his characters speak in their native tongues—so D’Leh and his compatriots all speak English. It wouldn’t seem like so much of a problem if all of the villainous, lustful slave traders weren’t the ones speaking their own language, which is apparently very diabolical because it’s been sent through a sound mixer for maximum despicability. It seems that when it’s not embroiled in the most ridiculous action sequences ever committed to film—complete with terrible CGI involving saber-toothed tigers and things that resemble giant emus—”10,000 B.C.” attempts to foster fear and hatred for that which you don’t understand (or to condescend to it, in the case of the various African tribes that D’Leh befriends). Which, in this case, means throwing a big blanket of indiscriminate loathing at the Middle East—not a redeemable one in the whole bunch. Just the perfect message for this day and age, don’t you think?

Actually, there’s another film that one feels compelled to discuss in the same breath as this one: “300,” which, perhaps not coincidentally, opened precisely one year before “10,000 B.C.”’s release date. But by the end of “10,000 B.C.,” D’Leh, the stand-in for Leonidas, throws his spear right on target and takes out the Xerxes’ counterpart, walks away from the resultant chaos unharmed, and on top of that gets bragging rights on Evolet, who dies at the end of the movie, except not really. One year after the fact, I still think “300” is a lousy motion picture; it’s a brutal ape of a film that lauds mankind’s ugliest, most jingoistic tendencies without irony, and ends with a confusing screed about dying a glorious death in service to those ideals. But considering that its corresponding characters live to see the end credits to preach their ugly jingoism, maybe you could argue that “10,000 B.C.” follows “Apocalypto”’s lead after all—that it’s just another sign foretelling the downfall of modern civilization as we know it.