‘WE WILL SCHLOCK YOU!’: Heath Ledger charges into battle without a fresh story in Brian Helgeland’s A Knight’s Tale.

The old oaters on which I grew up were hooked on conventions. The hero was brave, resilient, gallant, merciful and persevering. He always played fair. And he always got the girl. He often got wounded, but the injury always looked worse than it ended up being. Frequently, he had to wear an arm in a sling for a while, but that gun-shot shoulder never bothered him when it came time to beating the stuffings out of the bad guy.

  In short, you should not be misled by that hysterical ad quoting a rave review from Rolling Stone. Brian Helgeland’s A Knight’s Tale is just a medieval oater. It possesses a certain energy, but it has barely got a single fresh idea.

  Punched out with a cookie cutter by Helgeland, who wrote, directed and produced, A Knight’s Tale is the story of William Thatcher (Heath Ledger), a strapping British peasant lad who was apprenticed to a French knight when he was a wee urchin. In the years since, William has done whatever squires of middling knights do: care for the horse, walk while the knight rides, fetch, wait, and eat rather less regularly than they would like.

  William is grown and handsome now, and when opportunity presents itself, he grabs it like Kathie Lee grabbing an unused microphone. His master dies, and so William declares himself the knight, though, of course, in 14th century Europe this a crime punishable by torture, humiliation and death. Yes, William hasn’t a clue about how to joust. And, yes, his armor doesn’t fit. But what does this matter? In the words of William’s cliche-spewing father (Christopher Cazenove), "If a man believes enough, a man can do anything." I think Michael Jordan disproved this proverb to everyone who ever guarded him with a game on the line, but perhaps the 20th was another century.

  And so the improbabilities take up residence next to the nonsense, right across the street from the entirely preposterous, all in a snug neighborhood called uninspired. First we get the requisite training scene. Assisted by his loyal fellow squires Roland the Rotund (Mark Addy) and Wat the Thick but Fervent (Alan Tudyk), William rides and tilts, tilts and rides. At first, he’s pitiful and in the next instant he’s the Babe Ruth, Walter Payton and Tiger Woods of jousting.

  Enter the love story. Jocelyn (Shanynn Sossamon) the dark beauty of noble birth and an instinctive hankering for the underdog. I see you. I love you. You see me. You love me. Flash forward: I’m mad at you. You’re mad at me. Flash forward: I love you. You love me. I need your love. You stand by me. It’s enough to make you wonder if that threatened Hollywood writers’ strike wasn’t a good idea.

  Enter the bad guy, and prepare your lips and tongue for sustained hissing. Count Adhemar (Rufus Sewell) has everything he needs for villainy except a handlebar mustache. Adhemar sneers at William, who has needlessly begun to identify himself as Orrick Von Liechtenstein. Adhemar can’t know that William is a peasant yet, so Adhemar warms up by dismissing him as a "poor country knight."

  Every aspect of Adhemar’s rise and demise is as predictable as Louisiana’s legislature deciding to continue under-funding education. Adhemar is the kind of guy who declares he’s going to marry your girl even though she hates him. He’s the kind of guy who beats you when you’re tied up. He’s the kind of guy who cheats when he fights you. He’s, yes, the latter-day clone of Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix) from Gladiator.

  And then we get the stuff that comes to nothing. Enter Kate the Female Blacksmith (Laura Fraser). Forgive me for finding her more fetching than Jocelyn. Surely there was supposed to be a flirtation. Surely a romantic triangle was supposed to develop. Nope. Kate’s a cool feminist and a looker to boot, but she’s just around to make William a new set of lightweight armor. Nothing comes of the new armor, either. Then there’s that nasty lance point in William’s upper chest. Looks to have gone in about three feet. Gosh, he can barely breathe. He can’t hold his lance. He can’t even bear the weight of his own armor. In short, he’s got Adhemar right where he wants him.

  The only clever development in this flick is the introduction of Geoffrey Chaucer (Paul Bettany) as William’s fast-tongued, gambling-addicted herald. Chaucer has a couple of funny moments, but even his character ultimately disappoints, a mere nickel alloy knock-off of the gold coin theater owner Geoffrey Rush played in Shakespeare in Love. The self-conscious anachronisms, the jousting crowd singing "We Will Rock You," that stately medieval dance turning into a contemporary rock-out, those Nike swooshes on William’s new armor, bear potential, but are like everything else in this movie: utterly under-imagined.