'Troy' -- bold portrait of war's folly

Ancient armies clash over love, honor and box-office glory in "Troy" (Warner Bros.), director Wolfgang Petersen's grand-scale rendering of the story of the Trojan War. Exhibiting the type of creative hubris needed to undertake such a Herculean task, Petersen has crafted a bold portrait of war, which is both epic in scope and intimate in its emotional poignancy.

Loosely based on Homer's "The IIiad" (composed in the eighth century B.C., 300-400 years after the events recounted), the film chronicles the siege and fall of Troy, an ancient walled city on the northwest coast of present-day Turkey, by invading Greek forces. Following the basic Homeric outline, the conflict is ignited when Paris (Orlando Bloom), the lustful son of Troy's King Priam (Peter O'Toole), spirits away the beautiful Helen (Diana Kruger) from her husband, King Menelaus of Sparta (Brendan Gleeson), during a detente between the two rival nations.

Enraged by the public humiliation, Menelaus petitions his megalomaniac brother, King Agamemnon of Mycenae (Brian Cox), to raise a massive army in order to sack Troy and avenge his honor. Having already united most of the Greek tribes under his heel, the power-mongering Agamemnon agrees to go to war. But his motives have less to do with his brother's honor than they do with his own insatiable greed.

Before setting sail, the Mycenaean monarch must first convince the fiery Achilles (Brad Pitt), the greatest warrior of the ancient world, to answer his call and take up arms against Troy. "Born to end lives," the demigod Achilles is an invincible fighting machine whose arrogance is exceeded only by his contempt for Agamemnon. Vowing allegiance to nothing save his own glory, Achilles puts aside his long-standing feud in the hope of winning for himself the eternal renown foreseen by his goddess mother (Julie Christie) -- the price of which, she warns, will be his life.

Fighting on the side of the Trojans is valiant Hector (Eric Bana), the duty-bound crown prince of Troy, who is burdened with finishing what Paris, his I'm-a-lover-not-a-fighter kid brother, started.

In a Normandy-like invasion scene, Achilles almost single-handedly secures the beachhead, desecrating a sacred shrine in the process and claiming Hector's vestal virgin cousin, Briseis (Rose Byrne), as spoils-of-war.

From this point the story kicks into full battle mode, with breaks in the chest-thumping action only long enough for lofty orations, before the combatants gird up for another round of fighting. While crowded with Cecil B. DeMille-sized centerpieces, the film remains grounded in human drama, retreating from the front lines to examine the internecine strife and day-to-day tensions of the Greek camp.

Technically, "Troy" is a stunning achievement, with its mammoth action sequences handsomely lensed and buttressed by the film's lavish production design and an appropriately muscular score. The script suffers from the usual stiff dialogue common to sword-and-sandal spectacles -- Homer was blind, but some lines sound as if the screenwriter was deaf.

Bronzed and braided, Pitt fills the brooding braggart's larger-than-life sandals with a conflicted blend of tenderness and fury, his godlike good looks making it easy to believe there is a deity or two in his family tree.

Though remaining true to the spirit of the source material, "Troy" takes liberties in its telling of the tale, including compressing the timeline of events from 10 years to what seems like no more than a month, and importing non-Homeric elements such as the infamous Trojan horse (added from the Roman poet Virgil's "The Aeneid"). Unlike Homer's gods who dominate the stage, the gods are kept in the wings in Petersen's demythologized version. But while Mount Olympus remains silent, the film is suffused with a sense of the eternal, its characters' actions inescapably guided by a pagan notion of fate. If the film does have an Achilles' heel it is its treatment of women, which, apart from Briseis, remains narrative window dressing.

While the film at times paints a gilded portrait of warfare, it also lays open its horror, banality and ultimately its folly, summarizing the grim history of armed conflict as "old men talking and young men dying." While the pre-Christian world of "Troy" is fueled by a toxic stew of tribal nationalism, revenge and rabid chauvinism, it also celebrates virtues such as honor, courage and loyalty.

The film contains intense images -- including fallen heroes' corpses being dragged behind chariots, eerily echoing those on recent nightly newscasts -- that may hit too close to home for some viewers. As Hector says, "There is nothing glorious or poetic about war." In the film's most moving scene, the aged Priam tells Achilles that though they remain enemies "even enemies can show each other respect" -- a valuable lesson for our world ravaged too often by the gods of war.

Due to much intense battlefield violence and several implied sexual encounters with partial nudity, the USCCB Office for Film & Broadcasting classification is A-III -- adults. The Motion Picture Association of America rating is R -- restricted.

Breakin' All the Rules
An expert in bailing out of relationships finds himself falling in love without a parachute in the lukewarm romantic comedy "Breakin' All the Rules" (Screen Gems).

Jamie Foxx stars as Quincy Watson, a smooth operator writing for a glossy Los Angeles-based magazine whose world is turned upside down when he gets unceremoniously dumped by his arm-candy fiancee (Bianca Lawson), a self-involved twit who jets off to Paris with his best man.

Wallowing in self-pity, Quincy -- referred to by his friends simply as "Q" -- channels all his energy into writing a how-to guide for terminating relationships based on a scientific understanding of human psychology. His breakup handbook rockets to the top of the best-seller list, making Quincy an overnight celebrity.

Morris Chestnut plays Quincy's lecherous cousin, Evan, who recruits his writer-turned-guru kin to extricate him from his current relationship with a pretty physical therapist, Nicky (Gabrielle Union). Quincy agrees to assist Evan in ditching Nicky, but in a case of mistaken identity winds up becoming romantically involved with her instead. Of course, once Evan learns that Nicky is seeing someone else he wants her back. Complications ensue as Quincy and Nicky must not only hide their relationship from Evan, but mask their true identities from each other.

Written and directed by Daniel Taplitz, "Breakin' All the Rules" breaks little new ground, incorporating standard mistaken-identity plot devices into a mediocre script which, though laced with attempts at emotional sincerity, is for the most part stale and predictable.

The story is built around a central question: Is love rational? And while most of casual sexuality that passes as "love" would be more accurately described as "lust" the film does propose an answer. Early in their romance, Quincy regales Nicky with a piece of obscure trivia, informing her that a person cannot bite through his or her own skin because it would violate a self-preservation instinct humans have to avoid pain. By way of analogy, he concludes that love is irrational since it would demand that a person willingly open himself or herself to the possibility of pain. This love-at-first-bite litmus test becomes the barometer of their affections. The moral: Genuine love is about putting self-interest aside and surrendering oneself completely to another, even if it means getting hurt.

Due to a recreational view of sex, several implied sexual encounters and recurring crude language and humor, the USCCB Office for Film & Broadcasting classification is A-III -- adults. The Motion Picture Association of America rating is PG-13 -- parents are strongly cautioned. Some material may be inappropriate for children under 13.

David DiCerto is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.