Why Highlander's Epic Reboot Needs to Learn the Lost Art of Laughing at Itself
AI Gaming News Author · Polygon ·
Jeff gently pokes fun at the original *Highlander* movie's joyless solemnity, arguing that despite its cult status, only Sean Connery understood its camp potential, a trick Henry Cavill's serious-looking reboot needs to steal to avoid becoming another grimdark slog.
Right, so I've been tinkering with this bit of gaming history, and bloody hell, it’s wilder than it first appeared. We’re talking about *Highlander*, mate – that classic tale of immortal warriors, ancient swords, and heads rolling. You know the one: "There can be only one!" It’s got that nostalgic shimmer for a lot of folks, a true cult classic, they say. But I'm here to tell you, like a wizard who accidentally transmuted his breakfast into a sentient toaster, that maybe, just maybe, our collective memory has buffed out a few too many rough edges. Because while the premise is pure gold, the original film itself was… well, it was a bit of a botched spell, wasn't it?
Now, don't get me wrong, I love a good underdog story as much as the next digital alchemist. But sometimes, an underdog is an underdog for a reason. When *Highlander* first hit the screens back in '86, it didn’t just bomb; it detonated. Critics, those grizzled dungeon masters of cinema, were ruthless. Roger Ebert called it "completely silly and very boring," which, coming from him, is like getting a critical hit with a banhammer. Gene Siskel chimed in with "one of the lousiest films I’ve ever seen." Ouch. That’s not a lukewarm review, that’s a full-on rage-quit. And the box office? Barely scraped together half its budget. It wasn't until the mystical glow of VHS tapes that it found its niche, spawning a whole franchise of varying quality – kinda like a game that finally finds its audience after a few disastrous launch patches.
The setup, though? Utter genius. Connor MacLeod, a Scotsman who just *won't* stay dead (not really immortal if you can be decapitated, mind you, but let’s not nitpick the lore too hard), learns he’s part of a secret society of sword-swinging forever-people. Sean Connery swans in as Ramírez, an extravagantly dressed mentor, dropping exposition bombs about an ultimate showdown – "The Gathering" – where the last immortals duke it out until only one remains. Fast forward to gritty 1980s New York, and MacLeod is an antique dealer still dodging decapitation attempts. It’s got all the ingredients for an epic, genre-bending adventure, right? Swords and sorcery clashing with neon-soaked urban decay? Sign me up!
And yeah, the sword fights? Pretty decent, I’ll give 'em that. They take up a fair chunk of screen time, and when they connect, they do feel impactful. But here’s the rub, the critical bug in the matrix: action alone is like a game with stunning graphics but no compelling quests. The characters, bless their immortal cotton socks, are about as interesting as a blank character sheet. Director Russell Mulcahy took everything with such solemn gravitas that the whole affair felt… joyless. It’s all very "badass for badassery’s sake," which, if you ask me, is the cinematic equivalent of a multiplayer game where everyone just spams the same powerful but ultimately boring attack.
Now, fans often champion the film for its "worldbuilding" and "campiness." On the first point, I’m with them – the core premise is rife with untapped potential, a vast lore waiting to be explored. But "camp"? Nah, mate. Camp usually implies a cheeky self-awareness or a charming cheapness. *Highlander* had neither. Its nearly $20 million budget in the '80s was serious coin, and it went into those beautiful Scottish vistas and cool New York sets. This wasn’t some low-budget passion project that accidentally became glorious. This was a serious, well-funded attempt that just forgot to sprinkle in a bit of humanity or humor. It's not camp; it's a misallocation of storytelling resources, focusing on the visual spectacle while letting the soul of the narrative wither on the vine. A classic dev decision, prioritizing graphical fidelity over engaging gameplay, eh?
There was, however, one shining beacon, one truly legendary player who understood the assignment. Sean Connery. Ah, Ramírez. Draped in peacock feathers, an immortal conquistador with an accent thicker than a dragon’s hide, Connery played his part with a knowing wink and a palpable charm that elevated every scene he was in. He looked and felt like he’d just stepped out of *The Princess Bride* – a film that perfectly understood how to blend adventure, romance, and genuine humor without sacrificing its core. That’s the kind of joyful irreverence a premise this utterly bonkers *needs*. Connery was the only one in the room who seemed to grasp that *Highlander*, for all its epic scope, was inherently ridiculous and should embrace it. He brought the fun, the lightness, the actual *camp* that everyone else missed.
Which brings us to the upcoming reboot, starring our very own Witcher, Henry Cavill. On paper, it sounds like a dream. Cavill, a bona fide gamer himself, wielding a sword? Directed by Chad Stahelski, the genius behind the *John Wick* franchise? You’d think this would be a guaranteed legendary drop. And I'm cautiously optimistic, like a dev looking at a promising early access build. We’re likely in for some absolutely *stellar* action sequences, because Stahelski knows his way around a fight choreo. But here’s my gentle skepticism kicking in, like a suspicious bug report.
From the two images Cavill has shared on his Instagram – one looking sweaty and ready to rumble under Chinese lanterns, another in a gloomy church with a sword – the vibe is… intensely serious. And while the *John Wick* films are undeniably brilliant action masterclasses, they're also pretty damn grimdark. They lean hard into the "badass for badassery" formula, albeit with much better execution. My concern is that this new *Highlander*, despite all its potential, will follow that same well-trodden, serious path. It’ll give us incredible sword fights, sure, but will it remember to give us interesting characters? Will it find that elusive spark of self-aware humor that Connery so effortlessly injected? Or will it just be another beautifully rendered, emotionally barren slog?
It’s a bit like a game promising hyper-realistic graphics and complex combat, but then the character dialogue is flat, and the story just loops endlessly without much emotional payoff. We’ve seen it before, haven’t we? All that effort, all that potential, and it just lands with a thud because it forgot the secret ingredient: joy. You can have high stakes and epic battles, but if there’s no humanity, no lightness to balance the dark, then it quickly becomes a grind. We don’t just want to see Cavill swing a sword; we want to see him inhabit a character worth rooting for, in a world that isn't afraid to be a bit absurd.
So, here’s my plea to the new *Highlander* crew: While you’re busy crafting those amazing fight scenes, please, for the love of all that is pixelated and good, don’t forget the magic that Connery brought. Don’t just make it grim and gritty because it’s 'cool.' Embrace the inherent glorious absurdity of immortals with swords fighting through history. Give us characters with a pulse, a bit of banter, and a sprinkle of that playful charm. Otherwise, we might just end up with another technically proficient but emotionally hollow experience, like a shiny new game that feels oddly… familiar. Perhaps I’m wrong, and this new saga will defy expectations, but I reckon the gaming community, always hungry for depth beyond the flash, deserves more than just another 'There can be only one' serious action flick. Let's hope they learn to laugh a bit, eh? Because sometimes, the best spells are the ones you don't take too seriously.
*This article drew inspiration and insights from Brian VanHooker's original piece, 'Henry Cavill's Highlander needs to steal one overlooked trick from the original movie,' published on Polygon.*
Tags: Movie Adaptations, Gaming Culture, Film Reboot, Storytelling, Game Design
Original article: Polygon