There Can Be Only Monday! Talking About Highlander… A Lot, Part 9

Previously: It wasn’t exactly Law & Order, y’know?

9. Admittedly, I really liked the armor

As Connor presumably…actually, that’s a good question, since the next time we see him, he’s out of jail with no ill effects after hitting at least two cops. Did he call a lawyer? Does he have a lawyer? Did his poor assistant Rachel have to run over there with bail money?

Anyway, as Connor begins the process that mysteriously ejects him from the police station, a car radio announces the headless-guy news before a tape is put in, and a sneering voice is heard in the land.

Yes, it’s the Kurgan, rolling into the city in one of those enormous cars you see in ’80s movies and blasting his stereo (he has the best song on the soundtrack, in my opinion; I wish it were possible to take this song, load it into a rifle, and shoot “Who Wants To Live Forever” with it). He’s eschewed his old armor for leather punk attire, and not a skull helmet in sight.

I miss Zorro’s horse already.

Like a lot of shy people, I have always entertained a hope that someday I’d be the kind of person about whom people say, “Hey, it’s J.A.! Now we can start the party.” I don’t know if I’ll ever get there personally—probably for reasons encompassing my use of “about whom”—but that’s the feeling I always get when I watch this part of Highlander. Anything can happen on a battlefield, but here in the modern age: Hey, it’s the Kurgan: Now we can start the party!

The Kurgan takes a room at a flophouse, signing in as “Victor Kruger” and flashing money at the desk clerk while looking like a god.

Be still my odd little heart.
Be still my odd little heart.

Okay, I’ll admit it: from the moment I first saw this scene and every time since, I have had a very…er…strong reaction to the Kurgan. I can’t put it into words, but I can definitely illustrate it:

Clancy Brown is a handsome actor, but this goes above and beyond that somehow. (Also,  since I noted that Connor at the wrestling match had the facial expression I have at parties, I feel compelled to note that the Kurgan pretty much has my work expression down—kind of a perma-“Oh, for god’s sake.”)

The clerk is sufficiently impressed to offer sleazy concierge services, one of which we’ll see in action in a bit.

What happens when he gets to his room is exactly the sort of thing that drove me to write these posts: a series of things that, taken by a receptive viewer in the right frame of mind, are splendid, and only on repeated viewings do doubts creep in. The first time I saw the Kurgan put together his sword and swing it around, it was unabashedly awesome. About ten viewings later, however…

  • Is a some-assembly-required sword really a good idea for fighting? Especially the kind of fighting these guys do? We’re going to see a flashback in which a swordfight causes A TOWER TO FALL DOWN!
  • What is the point of some of those exercises he does? Some of them are probably relevant to combat, a few are at least good for coordination, but there are a couple that seem purely in aid of saying, “Look who has really pretty arms! This guy!” Well, noted, movie. Noted back in the flophouse lobby, for that matter.

When he’s done with this display, the door opens and a hooker enters, presumably fresh (er, “fresh”) from the desk clerk. “Hi, I’m Candy,” she says.

“Of course you are,” the Kurgan growls with more or less the same level of better-than-this nihilism I had when muttering in the back of my fifth-grade classroom. Yeah, yeah. You despise humanity. Join the club, Captain Pretty Arms.

In conclusion, I’d like to leave you with this bit of meta-commentary, since I knew writing this post was not going to be my finest moment as a sane human creature:


Next time: I scrounge up something for Found-Again Friday. I still can’t believe I watched Mister Frost!

Next time on TCBOM!: I wouldn’t call it a meet-cute…

J. A.

It reads. It writes. It watches. It researches. It overdoes many of those things!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.