I had relatively low hopes going into The Uprising, as the marketing strategy had been pure chaos up until its release. While the US promoted a Robin Hood story of conquest and adventure, the UK promised a medieval re-enactment of class struggle. Neither was fully achieved, only a horrifyingly disjointed amalgamation of both.
Evidently, no one in the marketing room knew what the film was truly about at its core, and it’s safe to say the same was true for the writers’ room. The film is just as dramatically dissonant as its promotion suggests, preaching too many contradictory messages at one time. The audience is both told to believe that there is “no God” in violence, and rejoice as our main character (the elusive Ploughman played by Andrew Garfield) obtains supernatural powers and brutally murders his opponents. It is no story of how the working class rise up, but instead an action movie laden with chase scenes, and in which our superhero gets the girl by its end.
Undoubtedly, the film had potential. At its most promising, The Uprising made vaguely intellectual comments on justice, freedom, and the impossibility of achieving them. At its poorly executed climax, the mob of peasants rise in anger whilst the charters are written — the camera flits between chaos and rationality, rage and peace, violence and the written word, implying a need for the latter. Despite having to squint to find meaning amidst the film’s chaos, director Paul Greengrass does begin to address the bleakness of medieval life and the senselessness of violence.
We move so quickly that Greengrass sprints past his most obvious point of interest. He has released the film during a time of social upheaval, yet is too afraid to draw such parallels, making feeble comments on the unjustified beheadings of Flemish merchants, reminiscent of Tommy Robinson’s hatred for immigrants in the UK.
The actors are wasted on such a film. Tom Hollander’s caricature of an evil councilor echoes his manipulative performance in The White Lotus. Jamie Bell and Cosmo Jarvis play medieval rebels believably. An inept, incapable, and snivelling Richard is played fantastically by Woody Norman. Andrew Garfield does what he can with his lines, and portrays a hollowed-out man shaken by grief impeccably, but a revolutionary figure less so.
Greengrass’ depiction of the peasants’ revolt falls short — it is without emotional depth or substance, muddling the message advertised by the film. The lack of focus on morals, or awakening of class consciousness led me to believe I was in the trenches of 1381, awaiting the sweet release of the film’s end.
Photo by Magda Vrabetz on Unsplash
