THE GOLDEN COMPASS

Another fantasy epic, another apoplectic religious right

By DAVID WILDMAN

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When Shortbus came out, boasting a gay sex scene where one guy literally sings "The Star-Spangled Banner" into another's asshole, I was certain the religious right were going to label it the opening trumpet blast of Armageddon, but few paid any attention. Then along comes The Golden Compass and suddenly the internet is crammed with bloggers screaming warnings about how this film is the syllabus for Atheism 101, and spreading fears of female circumcision and 12-year-old Satan worshipers. If only. As it turns out, the cranks are more entertaining than what is on the screen.

Of course, it isn't really so much the actual film that the Christian idiots have a problem with -- most of those shooting their mouths off haven't seen it. It's because Philip Pullman, the author of the novel and the trilogy it opens, His Dark Materials, is an avowed atheist who thinks Christianity is more about power and politics than anything else. That makes him a serious danger to the kids -- heaven forbid they might conclude their parent's religion is a bunch of crap.

In truth, The Golden Compass is as innocuous as Narnia, but even more ambitious both technically and conceptually. Nicole Kidman plays an arch-evil blonde named Mrs. Coulter (perhaps there's a bit of the middle finger aimed at the right wing with that one?) She arrives at the school of 12-year-old heroine Lyra Belacqua (Dakota Blue Richards), and soon the icy prim bitch is flying off with the child in a staggeringly picturesque blimp. Lyra quickly becomes suspicious of Mrs. Coulter and escapes. It turns out Coulter is working for a menacing organization known as the Magisterium -- basically the Catholic Church -- who are behind a plot to kidnap kids from all over and bring them to some mysterious place up in the frozen North for bizarre experimentation.

Primary to the plot is the notion that every man, woman and child has a "daemon," a talking animal that follows them around and harbors their soul (no word on why the landscape isn't littered with droppings from the critters). One more thing: Lyra has a device called an alethiometer, a "golden compass" that conveniently tells her the truth about any subject she asks it. Also, there are witches, who are all on the side of good. And Lyra befriends a polar bear that wears armor and has a Klingon warrior mentality. The whole thing culminates in a classic Lord of The Rings-type battle. You get the idea.

There's nothing nearly as offensive or tasteless as a father shooting his own kid in the head, like at the end of The Mist (send your irate letters to Ty Burr at The Boston Globe, he gave that one away in his recent review of the film, although admittedly he did load the thing up with spoiler alerts. Ah well, those bastards don't deserve our covering for them anyway).

Director/screenwriter Chris Weitz does a remarkable job keeping the sprawling epic under control, especially for a guy who started his career helping his brother Paul direct American Pie, and is now taking the helm for the first time on his own. However, what starts out as a steady hand on the material ultimately smothers the momentum; the initial rapid pacing bogs down and the second half of the film nearly stalls. It doesn't help that some of the characters seem crowbarred in, like Eva Green as the witch Serafina Pekkala, who descends from the sky for no reason other than to reveal the next plot location, and her Casino Royale counterpart Daniel Craig as Lord Asriel, who spends most of the movie up in the icy North, mucking about and getting ready for the sequel.

Despite the uneven flow, the acting is spirited enough to hold interest. First-timer Blue Richards is a standout, showing a strong camera presence and remarkable poise for someone so green. Kidman, always the pro, is reliably creepy beneath her forced cheerful exterior. Christopher Lee as a High Councilor does his always-effective power-mad bad-guy routine, and Sam Elliott amiably hams it up as Lee Scoresby, an inexplicably Texan dirigible pilot. But as is often the case in these huge-budget special-effects extravaganzas, the real stars are the production design people, who have done a boffo job bringing the imaginative landscapes, CGI characters and hardware of this magical half-WWI era, half-futuristic world to vivid life.

So screw the religious nuts, there's no reason not to see this fun little flick. It's less histrionic than, say, the Pirates of the Caribbean series and a good deal less cloying and precocious than a hamper full of Harry Potter films. I'm looking forward to the sequel, The Subtle Knife, in which the kids supposedly embark on a mission to kill God. Now that should give the Pat Robertson's of this world something to get worked up about.