Comparisons with over-applauded Gladiator will surface, but less pretentious Centurion holds its own. Writer/director Neil Marshall hails from and worked at one end or the other of Hadrian’s Wall, Roman Britain’s northern “multicastles” defense line whose construction is moved up a couple of years to 117 A.D. in this imagined explanation of the disappearance of the conqueror’s legendary IX Legion.

Marshall recognizes the temptation to read in commentary on many a modern quagmire wherein cocky invaders are stymied by supposedly inferior irregulars defending their home terrain. So be it, but, shooting over two months in England and sub-zero mountains of Scotland, he envisioned, rather, the struggles of a remnant to reach safety after decimation at the hands of Red Indians, outlaws, pirates, Nazis, aliens or blue-painted Picts.

Their language unwritten and unknowable, their culture still barely guessed at, even their name for themselves lost, the latter fierce racial-ethnic mix did not appear in recorded history until two centuries later than this story, although surely they had attacked earlier. After General Agricola, Rome’s resignation and retreat behind its demarcation wall were symptomatic of already disintegrating Empire in the west, and, if of less importance than the film’s gory combat, torture and even love, Rome’s face-saving treachery and the hero’s turnabout allegiance do bear on the corruption of power.

Too much is unnecessary voiceover by that Centurion, Quintus Dias (Michael Fassbender), whose famous father won his freedom in gladiatorial combat. In “this new kind of war, a war without honor, a war without end,” he alone is alive following an enemy raid on a wooden border stockade, escapes capture, and makes it back to the York deployment under beloved General Titus Virilus (Dominic West).

In “this lost-cause graveyard of ambition,” however, they are all sent north again. Quintus has been here long enough to speak fluent “Pictish” (substituted for by English-subtitled Scots Gaelic), which will later prove handy with young lifesaving blonde witch-herbalist Arianne (Imogen Poots), even if she has also learned “your language” of (English-rendered) Latin. Nevertheless, orders are that the troops be guided by a mute scout with a trident lance and, later, the white-streaked dark hair favored by locals.

SPOILER ALERT

Warrior and horsewoman Etain (Olga Kurylenko) instead leads the foreigners into an impressive fireball ambush in the misty woods. Something of a necromancer herself, orphaned and raped by these invaders, she has been brought up by tribe chief Gorlacon (Ulrich Thomsen), and lives and dies for the revenge of killing sons of Rome.

Their commander taken prisoner, six legionnaires and a cook survive, captained by former second-in-command Quintus, who insists they rescue their general. That failed, and Gorlacon’s son (Ryan Atkinson) unnecessarily skewered by twice-treacherous infantryman Thax (JJ Feild), the group head north, not south, to throw the outraged pursuers off track.

Their small band Pict-picked apart as one or the other is arrowed, axed, sliced, dogged or drowned, three are tended to and mended in Arianne’s rather well-appointed roundhouse, where -- aside from the obvious to come -- even a grizzled soldier learns that there is good on both sides of the Wall. Poison in his system, a disaffected Quintus will remember the place.

The story is creaky, told many times in different locations, eras and wars. Not tightly focused in bluish tints, landscapes are there but are not allowed to take over. Characters are not deep or unique enough to rise above the pack, but the action is plentiful and quick-cut, realistic in overall combat chaos with individual hand-to-hand not lingered on. There is not much to think about afterwards, or during, but Centurion is worth ninety-seven minutes of a viewer’s time. 

(Released by Magnet Releasing and rated "R" for sequences of strong bloody violence, grisly images and language.)