I love bad movies. I love movies that are train-wreck bad. Lousy acting, inept direction, hackneyed scripts, gaping plot holes, continuity errors and cheezy effects captivate me as the flame captivates the moth. I love low-budget kung-fu flicks and anime; that's how forgiving I am. So why do I hate Dungeons and Dragons?
It's not that D&D is one of those movies that is too good to really cast aside your criticism and enjoy; there is plenty to hate. D&D is guilty of all the offenses listed above, and more. Imagine Ed Wood with a budget.
Yet, neither is it truly such a stinker as to cause universal revulsion. Some of the special effects are quite noteworthy; I particularly like zooming up and down the towers to transition from one scene to the next. Likewise, some of the sets and costumes are very well done.
I actually think I could like this film if it weren't for its pretension to represent the game. I admit to being irked that this craptacular turkey of a film all but guarantees that Dungeons and Dragons will never appear on the silver screen again (making back only half of its production cost clinches it), but that is not why I hate it.
The movie's damning fault is its failure to bear any but the most superficial resemlance to the game that it promises to promote. The director, Courtney Solomon, claims to be paying homage to the game he loved to play as a kid, but as far as I can tell, he just doesn't get it.
The movie bears a superficial relation to the game, almost as though Mr. Solomon had Noah's Gaming Checklist. "Rogues, one pair. Check. Demihuman PCs, one pair. Check. Orcs, one pair. Check. Artifacts of wondrous power, one pair. Check." While the attempt is laudable, the omissions are more conspicuous than the inclusions. What D&D player would put together a party without a cleric? And where are all the monsters? Apart from dragons, of which several dozen battle at the end of the film, only three monsters appear. Any D&D player will recognize that these proportions should be reversed, at the very least.
Let us move beyond what is missing, to Solomon's misuse of what is in the movie. In interviews, he claims that the movie follows the rules of D&D, to the extent that effective cinematography allows. I want to use his rules, that allow a drunken fighter in medium armor to hide undetected in a bustling den of rogues. What rule dictates that a dragon's blood ignites upon contact with water?
Finally, and worst of all, the characters conduct themselves in a manner utterly inappropriate to their role, and in betrayal of the essential experience of the game. The main character, Ridley, is a rogue (thief, in First Edition parlance). So why doesn't he act like one? The way Ridley goes toe to toe against the villains with his enchanted sword, one might think he was a paladin. No rogue I know would pass up the many opportunities for a sneak attack that he does.
Dungeons and Dragons is a game of parties of characters working togther, combining their different skills to achieve goals that none of them alone can attain. They prepare spells and train with weapons, descend into dungeons, disable the traps, fight the monsters, turn the undead, heal their wounds, kill the dragon, and haul out the loot.
In the film, every time things get difficult, the party sends the rogue in alone. There are no monsters in the dungeons; the only undead has delusions of being an oracle; dragons come only when called; and the wizard stumbles through the whole film utterly incapacitated and useless because she lost her spell components.
On second thought, maybe Mr. Solomon does know D&D after all... from the perspective of a 14-year-old munchkin running alone through a dungeon custom-made for his rogue character. For the rest of us, if you want a true cinematic Dungeons and Dragons experience, give this movie a miss and play a game of Diablo II instead.