The Golden Compass is set in an alternate universe similar to Earth. It tells the story of Lyra Belacqua, a young girl who overhears a plot to kill her uncle, Lord Asriel, played by the remarkably un-bookish looking Craig, and is thrown into complicated adventures full of kidnappings, betrayals and silly names which, may have meant something to Pullman fans, but which I found exceptionally hard to follow. Multiple plot threads were launched and faded out with little storytelling skill so that at the end of this first instalment, I felt utterly dissatisfied. One of the three stories reached a resolution and Lyra spoke dreamily of “next time” and the next adventure…which made me respond, “Huh?” They should have got the director from 24 in on the act and show them how it was done.
The daemons didn’t disappoint. In one delightful scene, children chased each other through a meadow with their little CGI souls scampering and flitting around them. It added this incredible dimension where you wouldn’t just read another person face, or tone of voice or their body language but also their daemon. It was fascinating watching the daemons interact with each other too expressing arguments through their own fights and threats. Amazing too observing the interaction of a human with its daemon which in some cases, such as one scene between Mrs Coulter and her ‘monkey’ was tantamount to abuse followed by intense regret on her part which was disturbing to behold. Worse of all was the
dreadful sense of violation if anyone touched or forcibly separated a daemon from its human.
Lyra’s daemon hadn’t ‘fixed’ because she was a child and varied in form - sometimes a cute gerbil creature that peeked out form under her collar, other times a Pantalaimon, a racoon (I think) and occasionally a baby snow-leopard. I wonder what mine would be? Just think, it would be another area in life where we could develop complexes; imagine the internal conflict caused by the discrepancy caused by the daemon you had and the one you wanted? Or the dismay when you thought your child would turn out to be a snow-leopard but instead she ‘stuck’ as a crow?
Pantalaimon
I loved all the philosophical, pseudo-religious mumbo jumbo too about ‘dust’ and free-will although I had no idea what any of it meant. Does ‘dust’ represent God or knowledge or what? There seems to be as many theories as nutters out there; for all its flaws, I loved that a mainstream movie encourages children to navel-gaze and maybe take a peek at a dictionary once in a while with statements such as, “there will always be free-thinkers and heretics”.
The film was a feast for the eyes: it was beautifully lit and everyone’s eyes shone. It had the look of the 1940s with a smattering of Victorian technology: romantic airships; gas lamps; springs; clockwork and documents sealed with wax. The period feel made one think immediately of Orwell’s 1984; this might have been what the sets would have looked like - before it all went to rack and ruin. The splendour before it faded.
With all these Big Ideas and Big Visuals, the characters faded somewhat: I liked Lyra, played by the gloriously named, skinny and boyish, Dakota Blue Richards, although she faltered a little on the highly emotional scenes; Daniel looked a bit strange with a beard, spent a great deal of time gazing into the middle distance and disappeared from the story line for ages; Nicole Kidman tried very hard to be a less camp Cruela de Ville but the part wasn’t intimate enough for her to shine; Sam Elliot was his usual, effortless, charismatic self but I felt mildly resentful of his American Cavalry role.
Did I mention I hated the polar bears? A great concept in the book, perhaps, but I loathed the whole idea on screen. Polar Bears, well, they just aren’t very…nice…see the recent story about a Mamma Polar Bear chowing down on her Baby Polar Bears. The storyline fell into the picture like an unwanted dinner guest. Despite the cool Norwegian style names, I wasn’t convinced. There was a touch of the Watership Down discomforts – they were all earnest voices and motivation when, in fact, they were polar bears in very silly outfits. And polar bears can’t talk.
I hated the annoying Harry Hausen-style climactic fight complete with appalling, corny music; a cacophony of trumpets and strings such as you might find in a b-movie Roman movie; I found myself getting a bit bored. And why did no one not once mention how cold it was?
I doubt I’ll bother with the next instalment so I’ll never have my very own daemon puzzle solved: why does my soul-mate enjoy nothing more than rolling in dead rats by the river?
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