Disney had two high-profile, big-budget underperformers in the summer of 2010: The Sorcerer’s Apprentice and Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time. Alfred Molina has supporting roles in both, making me think he and Disney have hatched some sort of punch-card deal. In Prince, he’s the swarthy sheik who serves as comic relief, with lines like “Did you know ostriches have suicidal tendencies?” and “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”
The latter could be asked of the movie, which, like producer Jerry Bruckheimer’s Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, tells very little story for a long feature. Based on a series of video games, Prince stars oft-shirtless and miscast Jake Gyllenhaal as Dastan, the titular royal himbo framed for the death of his father, the king — by poisoned robe, no less!
Dastan flees with Princess Tamina (Gemma Arterton) across the desert and encounter ostrich races, deadly snakes and guys with gloves that shoot spikes. He is quite the ace at hopping rooftops, performing rope tricks, and smiling and grunting. Whenever he effs up, he unleashes some magic sand in his magic dagger which reverses time for several seconds, resulting in a cool effect whose cost could keep Third World countries flush in white rice for years.
Between noisy action scenes of mild interest, boredom reigns and traipses a kajillion-dollar path of predictability. Likely under threat of death and/or contractual obligation, director Mike Newell utilizes Bruckheimer’s trademark golden hue, which always bugs me since I first saw it on Saturday-morning cereal ads. Those didn’t have Arterton, however, but even her stunning beauty isn’t worth weathering the sandstorm. —Rod Lott