The Royal Hunt of the Sun

The first time I saw this flick, I was disappointed; disappointed because I'd expected an adventure tale of King Soloman proportions, an Aladdin's cave full of gold, and bloody Inca battles in a Peruvian jungle setting. In hindsight, I should've read the reviews, because my frame of mind would've been in the right place to enjoy this intense character study. Suffice to say on second viewing, I was able to appreciate the quality of the stage-born dialogue, and the precision with which its delivered by both Shaw and Plummer in their unique portrayals of demi-gods by any other name.

Narratively, it's a detailed snapshot of Pizarro's ill-fated conquest of the Incas, not for the glory of gold, but for the almost sanctimonious obsession with divinity and unparalleled colonialism. In essence, he signed his ticket before he departed Spain, promising the world he could never deliver, pursuing a pathological indulgence to satisfy his superior ego. There's an element of pity in Shaw's depiction of Pizarro, that of a mercenary without a war, unable to adjust to a civilian life. Shaw is magnificent as the deeply righteous conquistador whose eloquence in arguing secular sovereignty, fails to dominate the simple native lexicon of King Atahualpa (Plummer), communicating in a basically nonsensical series of clicks and chirps. If Atahualpa can prove he is a God, Pizarro will recognise his sovereignty, but if not, both his life and his land of rich antiquities will belong to the kingdom of Spain.

With Michael Craig, Leonard Whiting and Nigel Davenport in the wings, it's an ensemble British cast of true quality, and the performances are first rate. Set design, costumes, score and script deliver, and while momentum is at times a distinct challenge, if you're not fully engaged in the dialogue, the result is likely to be languid in pace and voluble in speak. My initial viewing was such; fortunately, I watched it a second time.