This film, when I saw it in the theatre in 1981, had and still does have a great impact on me. In this brief essay I’d like to explain why. I write only on the basis of my own impressions. I have never listened to director John Boorman’s commentary; nor have I studied any other. This is Excalibur in the eye of the beholder. And though I will call attention to a very few instances of screenwriter Rospo Pallenberg altering and conflating elements drawn from the various versions of the Medieval Grail and Arthurian epics, my main approach will be to examine Excalibur as a aesthetic object in its own right, a legitimate mutation of the growing tradition.

Cracks in the Foundation

Probably the greatest lesson in this cautionary tale is that the end does not justify the means. If the root is poisonous, so will be the fruit. Take the short cuts and you will likely wind up hopelessly lost. Merlin’s long efforts to unify England under a single king come to naught because of something he had not anticipated: Uther Pendragon’s short-sighted lust for Igraine, the wife of his new-found ally, the Duke of Cornwall. But the magician cannot give up his dream, so he compromises his noble principles in a foredoomed Plan B. He summons the Dragon’s Breath to provide an air cushion over which Uther rides into the fortified palace of the Duke, where he magically assumes the outer appearance of the now-absent Duke and, heading straight for the bedroom, pretty much rapes Igraine. Meanwhile, the Duke is killed elsewhere, whereupon Uther replaces him as the new Duke. How did any of this contribute to Merlin’s larger plan? It turns out that the child Uther begat that night will be King Arthur, the true, destined king of all England. A noble aim—as long as Arthur inherits what good his father possessed and none of his moral weakness. And for a long time it appears Merlin’s risk had paid off—until it didn’t.

The Duke’s daughter, Morgana, already a sorcerous prodigy, was aware of Arthur’s shameful origin and held the knowledge over Merlin’s skull-capped head. Eventually the seed thus planted yielded a thorny crop.

But Arthur himself is part of the problem, becoming a bit of a chip off the old block. When he one day meets the shining knight Sir Lancelot, he envies his perfection and skill. He cannot acknowledge an equal, which his pride bids him regard as a rival. Outclassed by Lancelot, Arthur cheats to defeat him in battle, invoking the power of the magic sword Excalibur to vanquish his opponent. But in that moment the sword snaps in two! Arthur immediately realizes that “My pride broke it! My rage broke it!” The sword was the objectification of his virtue, so when the one shattered, so did the other!

For his part, Lancelot did not bemoan his defeat since he had, he thought, finally found a master knight whom he might serve. The two men remind us of Gilgamesh and Enkidu, initially foes but thereafter bosom friends. Was Lancelot, then, more worthy than Arthur to wield Excalibur? I think Lancelot was actually Excalibur in human form. His shining silver armor recalls the unblemished splendor of the magic sword. His breastplate bears the raised image of the Grail, a chalice into which blood from a shoulder wound appears to be pouring. Not only that, but what of his name, “Lancelot of the Lake”? In the same scene that introduces him, the broken Excalibur is miraculously restored, held above the waters by the hand of the Lady of the Lake! No coincidence, I’ll warrant.

But the crack is spreading: once Lancelot enters Arthur’s service he is assigned to accompany Arthur’s bride-to-be from her father’s castle to Camelot. Gwenivere is a giggling girl, a flirtatious airhead who becomes infatuated with Lancelot. His ill-advised declaration of “courtly love” only serves to encourage her, and thus is planted another seed of eventual destruction. If only Arthur hadn’t picked that fight with him!

Sacred History Repeats Itself

The connection between the Arthurian legend and the Bible is overt in the Grail sequence, but at least as striking is the parallel with the story of Samuel, Saul, and David in the book of First Samuel. Samuel’s role falls to Merlin. Both are shamans and kingmakers who are ultimately disappointed in their royal protégés. Samuel supported Saul as king of Israel, just as Merlin is Uther’s patron. Arthur corresponds, of course, to King David. The foolish subsequent behavior of both Saul and Uther lead Samuel and Merlin to withdraw their support, and not long after, both disgraced kings are killed by their nations’ enemies.

Merlin, however, possesses religious significance well beyond the Bible. At first he appears to be a powerful but mortal conjurer. He draws upon powerful, unseen forces (e.g., “the Dragon’s Breath”) to effect his plans, but he does have to resort to plans and stratagems. He can see some events that lie ahead, but he can also be taken by surprise. Yet there are ample clues to suggest Merlin is something far greater. Merlin is the Dragon. “It is everywhere! It is everything! If you were to behold it all in a single glance, it would burn you to cinders!” Merlin is another version of Pan, the Greek god whose name means “all.” The word “panic” comes from his name, denoting the holy terror befalling those who chanced to catch sight of him in the wild. And that is the premise of Arthur Machen’s classic tale, “The Great God Pan.”

And when Arthur abandons Excalibur, shoving it into the ground (just as his father Uther had buried the enchanted blade in a boulder), the sword suddenly appears skewering Merlin, who exclaims, “Into the spine of the Dragon!” His spine.

Double Dealers

To a surprising degree, various characters in the film are like a single performer, exiting the stage, swiftly changing costumes, and walking back on, perhaps as a different character. This happens when a single plot trajectory is carried forward by one character after another, as in a relay race. The shared trajectory embodied in however many characters is an actantial role. In this manner we can understand the actantial sequence shared by Arthur, Perceval, and Mordred (the bastard son of half-siblings Arthur and Morgana). Bereft of Excalibur, Arthur ages prematurely and languishes upon his tarnished throne, his mind beclouded. Concurrently, the once-paradaisal Camelot degenerates into a desolate wilderness. Here the movie conflates Arthur with the Grail King or Fisher King whose desuetude causes the barrenness of his domain (a brilliant move!). With Arthur effectively out of the picture, a pair of (opposed) characters replace him: Sir Perceval whose life as a rustic youth resembles Arthur’s until the lad persuades Lancelot to make him his squire. He in effect becomes Arthur reborn and trades places with him vis a vis Lancelot, who had volunteered to serve Arthur as Perceval serves Lancelot. In this we can see the humility that Arthur lacked when he met (and fought) Lancelot. By contrast, Mordred is the evil twin of Arthur. If Arthur is a Christ figure, Mordred is his Antichrist. But Lancelot is yet another Arthur, which is how/why he winds up with Gwenivere. He has assumed the actantial role of her mate.

Excalibur is a spectacle of enchanted wonders, its scenes composed like stained glass windows. It is in no way didactic or pedantic, yet it is a powerful statement about the oneness of virtue and heroism. It is not that the film has no lesson to impart; rather, the thing is, it does not preach, but instead portrays honor and the high cost of dishonorable behavior. Just as in real life. This is why myth is so important: in flaming colors it confronts us with truths too easily obscured by the press of mundane circumstances. How did Pallenberg and Boorman manage to create such an achievement? I can only suspect they chanted the Sacred Charm of Making: Anall Nathrach Urthvas Bethod Dochiel Dienve!

As editor of the journal Crypt of Cthulhu and of a series of Cthulhu Mythos anthologies, Robert M. Price has been a major figure in H. P. Lovecraft scholarship and fandom for decades. In 2015 Price received the Robert Bloch Award for his contributions to Lovecraft scholarship. At the same event he was pretty much excommunicated from the Lovecraftian movement. A life-long fan and author of sword-and-sorcery, RMP edited the S&S anthology, The Mighty Warriors, which was published in 2018. His most recent publications are in the Simon of Gitta collection, Sorcery Against Caesar, alongside Richard L. Tierney and Glenn Rahman, as well as editing Lin Carter's Flashing Swords! #6.