I pretend to no great intimacy with the original Conan stories of Robert E. Howard or the subsequent de Camp/Carter versions, or even the long-running Marvel Comics or later Dark Horse series. What I do know is that the 1982 film Conan the Barbarian is a guilty pleasure of the first rank. Arnold at his improbably muscled, tongue-swallowing best. Blood-spattering swordplay. The right amount of salacious nudity for a teenage viewer. Heck, you've even got James Earl Jones as a snake god. I may not have much experience with crushing my enemies, seeing them driven before me, and the lamentations of the women, but there's definitely room for Conan when it comes to what is good in life.
Laying aside the mostly forgettable sequel and later reboot, there's talk of finally making Conan the King with Arnold fulfilling the promise of the barbarian on a throne in his dotage. Shut up and take my money.
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