Content Warning for implied sexual assault.
In the subgenre of historical epics, there are those based on real events (Lawrence of Arabia (1962); Rob Roy (1995)) and those inspired by legend (Excalibur (1981); Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991)). In both instances, the matter of reality or fiction is less important than how engaging the performances are, how stunning the cinematography is, how striking the technical elements are, or how moving the musical composition is. Joining the ranks of historical epics inspired by local legends is writer/director Nick Hamm’s (Driven) latest project, William Tell, itself inspired by the 1804 play written by Friedrich Schiller, which seeks to increase the myth and legacy of freedom fighter William Tell. Though the cast is remarkable, the technical elements are as-expected for a narrative of this scope and size, and the thematic elements are particularly poignant in a political era of similar tyrannical greed, William Tell largely falls flat due to its rote approach, failing to inspire anyone through its runtime.
In the 14th century, Swiss King Attinghausen (Jonathan Pryce) encourages his successor, Rudenz (Jonah Hauer-King), to maintain Swiss independence by not bending the knee to Austrian King Albrecht (Ben Kingsley), who seeks to control all that lies within Swiss borders. As this is going on, an assault by an Austrian tax collector leads one Swiss local to commit murder in retaliation, putting them on the run. This is an isolated incident, but proves to be a key moment as this action and reaction places the fates of both countries in the hands of a former Crusader-turned-farmer, Wilhelm Tell (Claes Bang). Reluctant to get involved but unable to avoid doing the right thing, Tell tries to help the Swiss man in evading Austrian capture, beginning to pave the road to freedom for all Swiss.
L-R: Golshifteh Farahani as Suna and Claes Bang as Wilhelm Tell in WILLIAM TELL. Photo Credit: Crossbow Films Limited. Photo courtesy of Samuel Goldwyn Films.
One may not know the story of William Tell beyond the famous apple and arrow, but, mostly, you’re at least familiar with the name via 1829 composer Gioachino Rossini. In terms of modern popular culture, his William Tell Overture has been used as the theme song for The Lone Ranger (1949 – 1957) television program, made absolutely looney in a Daffy Duck/Porky Pig cartoon, and utilized to perfection twice in the first season of anime-adaptation Dan Da Dan (2024 – present) via a synth remix. At this point, if one hears the overture, one presumes it’s time to go fast. This, of course, is why media representation matters, because the intention or truth of something, even in history, gets lost when it’s co-opted and reshaped for consumer consumption. All of this to say that truth matters, and only recalling a can-can (because you can-can-can) is reductive to the memory of William Tell and the freedom fighter that he was … mythologically speaking. Whether or not Tell existed is a debated topic, yet the essence and need of such heroes matters still when there are whole countries trying to devour one another, whether it be for mineral rights, water ways, or general greed. Stories like Tell’s remind us that all it takes is one person to be the spark that lights the flames of rebellion because there’s only so much people can take in the face of tyranny. Not imagined tyranny of those who don’t know what a pronoun is, who say that “Republicans freed the slaves” while ignoring the party platform swap by 1936, or who don’t understand that leopards will eat any face without discretion, but the actual tyranny of an occupying force or of those who gleefully speak of turning allies into enemies simply because they are destined to control a slab of land. While some might think this is speaking solely of the current U.S. presidential administration and its designs on Greenland, for instance, these are also the occurrences of violence between Switzerland and Austria in the 1300s. So, it makes sense that, whether Tell existed as the stories say, a mythological hero would rise to help take down King Albrecht and restore order to the people. It’s a powerful populist message and one that reminds audiences that royalty is a thing best suited for fairytales (not actual rule) and that war sought for greedy reasons only spills innocent blood. This is what courses through Hamm’s script and is the key element that makes the totality of the experience worth it.
Inspired by Schiller’s play, Hamm has constructed a tale that expands the Tell myth beyond shooting an apple atop his son’s head in a head-to-head with an Austrian named Gessler (played here by Sex Education’s Connor Swindells) to include a great number of players to explore the geo-political turmoil, an inciting incident, and a backstory that makes Tell a reluctant hero. Through the expansion, the audience is treated to a larger-than-life story as kings and their respective heirs position themselves for what might be best for the people, while we also observe the cruelty that tyranny brings out of lesser individuals. In terms of character development, Tell is a work in contrasts as Bang’s Tell is wizened, an aged solider who still deals with intrusive thoughts related to his time fighting in the Middle East. A time period is never specified, yet the iconography of his preserved shield and the imagery within his flashbacks implies that this Tell most likely fought in the Siege of Acre in Jerusalem 1291. Bang convincingly presents a solider who would prefer farming to bloodshed; peace to war. Thus the contrast forms as Swindells’s Gessler is young, ambitious, and strategically overreaching, giving way to recklessness which leads to a great deal of violence. Where Tell wants harmony and equity among people, Gessler sees only foreigners to be subjugated and utilized as he sees fit, thereby making it unsurprising that the catalyst for the film hinges on behavior a regional representative of Austria saw as appropriate of their respective position. More specifically, though not shown, said Austrian tax collector demands shelter amid a storm, then violates and murders the host’s wife without concern for retribution, only to end up dead himself. (The things we do to women.) The contrast of Tell and Gessler as presented by Bang and Swindells makes the film interesting and engaging, but only up to a point, because all the beats that these warriors move to are so familiar that you can predict what will occur before it does.
Claes Bang as Wilhelm Tell in WILLIAM TELL. Photo Credit: Crossbow Films Limited. Photo courtesy of Samuel Goldwyn Films.
Much of the burden may lie in Schiller’s play, which makes the issues within the script unavoidable. Opting to use the death of an innocent woman at the hands of a cruel tax collector — we’ve seen this countless times in stories like this, the death the propulsion to action. More often than not, that violence directly impacts the central figure, but, gratefully it does not here. But where Schiller appears to speak of the act indirectly, Hamm makes a point to ensure that we know of the event through the woman’s screams and a few fleeting glimpses of the disrobed corpse. In a post-Game of Thrones era, even if such an act were historically accurate, it’s so unambitious and basic as to reduce the whole from the very start. In Schiller’s script, the wife lives and it’s unclear in the initial dialogue if she was, in fact, violated or if she escaped before the violation, meaning that the choice in the script is intentional. In terms of contrasts, when the violence of an innocent is treated as blasé by the bad actor and is then supported by Albrecht by being labeled forgivable, Tell and the Swiss stand out for their mutual respect for the women in their lives, even allowing them to take part of wartime council. Albrecht would allow his niece to serve as a spy while expecting her to marry Gessler, an element which highlights the regressive nature of the Austrians, but also serves as another “as-expected” from the bad guys in a film. And that’s what makes the film so difficult to latch onto no matter how hard one tries. The predictability of it, even where it takes its own freedoms with the narrative set forth by Schiller and the setting up of a sequel, causes the film to be one in which we wait for it to do what we expect rather one we experience with tension coursing through our bodies.
If you’ve been looking for a new historical tale to get into since Gladiator II released last fall, this might scratch that itch. It’s certainly serviceable given the convincing performances from the cast who deliver not a single false note among them, not a single sense of scenery-chewing or otherwise. But even with them making honor seem like an outdated concept in a modern world, the lack of narrative tension drags it all down as we wait for the bad guys to receive their due and the good guys a brief respite. This may be enough for some, but it’s difficult to recommend on the whole.
In select theaters April 4th, 2025.
For more information, head to the official Samuel Goldwyn Films William Tell webpage.
Final Score: 2.5 out of 5.
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Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
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