A Knight's Tale (2001 film) = Finished

God it feels good to watch a movie you saw as a kid, and find it's better than you remembered.

A Knight's Tale does this thing - a thing it got heavily dinged for upon release - where it plays contemporary music, has significant modern references (i.e. the "origin" of the Nike symbol), and even embeds modern senses of fashion and fandom into a medieval environment.

Now, we're in a post-Ready Player One world. Drowning in the age of the meme. Of the replacement of jokes or statements with split-second tests of "Do you remember this?" that directly take advantage of our brain chemistry. Flooding you with a happy chemical upon recognizing the familiar, all while this feeling that everything is hollow and perhaps your entire media experience is an endless treadmill in pursuit of the right references to achieve happiness grows inside you until it consumes your very being.

A Knight's Tale, despite ostensibly sharing many traits with this modern approach to cultural references, doesn't feel like that.
Why?

There's two types of knowledge used during a Media Consumption Experience(TM): Internal, and External. 

External knowledge is what you bring into the work with you. Memory of earlier iterations of a Thing, related cultural touchpoints, iconic elements of potential characters to come, etc. Marvel movies really take advantage of this broad external knowledge base, with fan theories and pixel hunts consuming months of detailed examination and coverage post-release.

Internal knowledge, on the other hand, is what is derived from the work itself. In other words, what you find to be implicitly and explicitly communicated by the movie, with little to no outside input required.

The origin of the Nike symbol depicted in A Knight's Tale is a good example of external knowledge--goofy fan service. I like it. On the other hand, the vast majority of its use of cultural references is actually, somehow, internally based, in direct opposition to much of our modern examples. A great example of this is the dancing sequence seen roughly midway through the movie. The evolution of that scene - the lead up to playing David Bowie's "Golden Years" as our medieval-garbed protagonists gyrate across the stone floor - is a masterclass in converting external knowledge into a fundamental piece of internal text, and making a so-called anachronism feel...natural.

We start with a scenario rooted in the world itself. William's rival urges him to demonstrate a dance from his (fictional) homeland, to embarrass him. William initial attempt is clumsy, much like the rest of his dancing. The crowd murmurs and giggles as they follow his halting steps. Then, Jocelyn steps in and claps dramatically, beginning a new strain of dance. One where, despite appearances, William is following Jocelyn's lead, and they end up creating this new thing together. A seemingly medieval tune begins to play, intensifying without a seeming reason or source as the dancers remain fairly stoic. Then the tune morphs, and the dancers subtly change with it. We hear the toot of a familiar instrument. Is that a crooned "aaaangel"? The medieval tune and elements of Golden Years become inextricable, reaching a fever pitch as the medieval facade suddenly breaks. Golden Years is all that remains. There's a new dance happening, now. One that feels both distinct, and like they were steps destined to be taken all along, seamlessly flowing from one mode to another.

Just like that, this external piece of media feels like a fundamental piece of the world itself. It doesn't replace anything, leaving a conspicuous hole of meaning in its wake. It isn't a substitute for substance or story or a joke. It is embedded - on equal footing with every other piece of the scene, and the movie, and therefore intricately woven into the fabric of the world itself.

This scene would not work without the song. The movie wouldn't work without the scene. And that is what makes A Knight's Tale brilliant.

...

...God, I love this movie.