Flesh, Spirit, & Sorrow
ASK Recommends: Ladyhawke (1985)
Ladyhawke. Directed by Richard Donner, featuring Matthew Broderick, Rutger Hauer, Michelle Pfeiffer, Leo McKern, and John Wood. Warner Bros., 1985.
It’s been a while since I’ve written an ASK Recommends entry, though I have several drafts in the works. But while playing Cinematrix recently with some friends, I was saddened to realize that none of them had seen Ladyhawke. That spurred me on to revisit the film, and I’d like to offer a brief defense of it here.1
On the chance you haven’t seen the film, let me offer a short summary. A young thief named Phillipe, played by Matthew Broderick, escapes from a dungeon and finds himself mixed up in an adventure to help two lovers break a curse. The married couple, Etienne and Isabeau, are cursed to change shapes but always at opposing times. Etienne, played by Rutger Hauer, transforms into a wolf during the night, while his true love Isabeau, played by Michelle Pfeiffer, transforms into a hawk by day. Thus, the two travel together, but never able to really be together. Etienne is convinced that Phillipe is the key to helping them gain revenge upon the Bishop who cursed them, since “the Mouse” has escaped the Bishop’s dungeon. Along the way, they pick up an interesting monk named Imperius who helps them come up with a plan. The resolution of the story is quite satisfying, so you’ll have to watch it to find out how it ends.
There’s a charm to the film that is hard to quantify. It is undoubtedly a product of the era in which it was made, particularly with some of Isabeau’s wardrobe. But the movie tells a compelling story that focuses on all the right things. It is, I think, one of the few modern fairytales to draw faithfully upon the moral imagination. It is a story of revenge, though forgiveness turns out to be far more important. It is a story of love, where faithfulness perseveres in spite of the physical limitations, a stark contrast to the “attraction model” that so many modern stories depend upon.
The 1980s were a prime era for movies in the fantasy genre, with films like The Princess Bride (1987), The Dark Crystal (1982), Willow (1988), Legend (1985), The Neverending Story (1984), The Last Unicorn (1982), and Labryinth (1986), which ranged across different categories and source material and audiences. But each one pulled on the same heart strings. Yet Ladyhawke stands alone in a few ways. First, the movie accomplishes a lot without the need to craft a complex world-building system. The setting is simple, Italy, and the characters are few. This simplicity brings out what is tragic about Etienne and Isabeau, but also what is worthwhile in Phillipe. It is a story of true love, and a story of being better than our base natures. Second, the movie relies on simple costuming and settings, enhancing the essential elements of the story which is the relationship between the primary characters. The visuals are very good for its era, and yet they never really distract or overwhelm the story, which is a welcome change of pace.
The script is full of great moments, making it hard to say which one is the best. Below are just a couple of the back-and-forths which sample the wittiness of the film, which all of the actors pull off well.
One of the best scenes is early in the story, when Phillipe and Etienne first meet:
Phillipe: “What is your quest?”
Etienne: “I must kill a man.”
Phillipe: “Tell me - does this walking corpse have a name?”
Etienne: “His Grace, the Bishop of Aquila.”
Phillipe: “The Bishop. I see. Well . . . Well, then you have much to do. And I've already been enough of a burden to you. I do hope our paths cross again one day.
Etienne: “I need you to guide me into the city.”
Phillipe: “Not for the life of my mother! Even if I knew who she was.”
Etienne: “You are the only one who has ever escaped from there.”
Phillipe: “It was chance! Pure chance! A miracle! Once in a lifetime! I fell down a hole and followed my nose!”
Etienne: “I have waited almost two years for a sign from God. So when I heard the morning bells of Aquila, I knew the moment of my destiny had come. You will be my guiding angel.”
Phillipe: “Me?”
[Etienne nods]
Phillipe: “Sir, the truth is I talk to God all the time, and no offense, but He never mentioned you.”
Later, when the Bishop’s guards are invading Imperious’s home looking for the lovers, there is a great moment with the surly monk:
Fornac: “Open this door in the name of His Holiness the Bishop of Aquila.”
Imperius: “Be off with you. This is a house of God, not a brothel.”
Fornac: “I said open this door in the name of His Grace, the Bishop of Aquila.”
Imperius: “I've met the bishop, you blasphemous lout. And you look nothing like him.”
Both of these scenes also showcase one of the things that makes the movie really stand out. In simple terms, it doesn’t treat religious faith as a burden or somehow contrary to the arc of the story. The wicked bishop is something that still shows up in stories today, but there’s not usually any counterpoint. But Ladyhawke does a good job allowing for faith to be genuine and an aid to the story. Phillipe often prays, comically so, and despite his faults, Imperious offers a window into a faith that has survived plenty of reasons to become hardened. I could go on about the role of Christianity in the film, and I might on another occasion, but for now, I’d like to simply say that this is a great film with lots to enjoy and ponder.
It would be unfair to say that the film has been forgotten. It has certainly lived on in pop culture references, like in this episode of Psych. And Ladyhawke still has enough cultural currency to have a fairly robust gif page for all your messaging needs. But I am confident that the film has been neglected, which is something that should be remedied.
In fact, I only recently became aware that there is a highly praised novelization of this one, which I plan to get my hands on as soon as I can. I would revel the opportunity to enjoy this story in another form, which also means there’s more than one way for the rest of you to jump in! But it’s a good idea to start with the movie.
The movie is not generally hated on, so I’m not defending it from detractors. I’m using defense here in the Chestertonian sense, meaning which can be found in his “Introduction” to The Defendant:
No man ever did, and no man ever can, create or desire to make a bad thing good or an ugly thing beautiful. There must be some germ of good to be loved, some fragment of beauty to be admired . . . If the world is good we are revolutionaries, if the world is evil we must be conservatives. These essays, futile as they are considered as serious literature, are yet ethically sincere, since they seek to remind men that things must be loved first and improved afterwards.
You know, this movie was definitely in my wheelhouse when it can out on VHS. But, somehow I never managed to see it.