‘Hercules and the Conquest of Atlantis’ or — More Exciting than ‘Ben-Hur’?
Before the Poliziotteschi, before the Giallo, before the Spaghetti Western was the Peplum, the wildly popular and financially successful sword-and-sandal subgenre of Italian cinema that dominated the early 1960’s, yet with their oiled musclemen, stuffed lions and goofy plots they were easy to ridicule and so have been somewhat neglected over the years. Was this mocking deserved? Oh, absolutely! But goodness, could they be fun and ‘Hercules and the Conquest of Atlantis’ (1961) is a wonderful example of just how much fun they could be.
When the various city states of Greece are informed of an unknown threat from across the ocean Androcles, the King of Thebes, sets out with Hercules (Reg Park) to identify the menace before it can strike. After a perilous sea voyage they arrive on the mist-shrouded isle of Atlantis where they discover Antinea, the Atlantean Queen, is enslaving children and using the stone of Uranus (no sniggering) to transform them into an army of superhuman clones and it’s with this unstoppable army that she will conquer the world. Oh no!
Sounds stupid, right? And it is but it also provides the perfect framework for a delightful mash-up of ancient epic, sword-and-sandal adventure, superhero movie, spy caper, fantasy escapade and sci-fi romp and this combination of so many delicious ingredients means the film barrels along, leaping from one crazy idea to the next, whilst barely pausing for breath.
This energy is evident from the very start with the film opening with a six minute long slapstick bar fight scene that introduces our main characters as well as signalling to the audience that this is going to be seriously daft. Sure, the pacing dips a little straight after with the film portraying Hercules as so strong and self-assured that nothing fazes him to the point of rendering him soporific but once he is roused into action he, and the film, never stops. This is helped by the fact that Reg Park makes for a highly appealing Hercules, one in possession of as much easy-going charisma as muscles. He’s also a great mover, always in motion (when he’s not all sleepy, that is) and surprisingly nimble and agile, especially when running away from explosions, horrible monsters or tumbling masonry.
Yet what’s even more surprising are the production values which are off the charts! Lavishly shot in Technicolor and Super Technirama 70 the film is a dazzling riot of bright solid colours, comic book reds and golds, outlandish headgear, futuristic outfits, gigantic effigies, oversized doorways and multicoloured beams of light and the effect is extraordinarily stimulating and uniquely fantastical.
Director Vittorio Cottafavi exploits this energising setting with an almost constant series of delightfully inventive touches, one of the best being an invisible barrier Hercules encounters in Atlantis that’s nothing more than a simple trick using a mirror, but it’s inserted with such playful gusto it hits with a jolt and is easily one of the best invisible barriers I’ve ever clapped my eyes on.
Also, when the army of cloned supermen (obviously Aryan Nazis) amass and rampage they’re handled in such a way they’re legitimately scary and the grisly aftermath of their attack on a rebellious force elicits a real sense of dread, even if Hercules ultimately dispatches of them with not-unexpected ease.
When the destruction of Atlantis finally occurs Cottafavi, in fine Italian tradition, really goes to town with the explosions with all the KERBLAMMING culminating in several atomic blasts.
‘Hercules and the Conquest of Atlantis’ is a bundle of insane fun and possesses a production design that rivals De Laurentiis’ ‘Flash Gordon’ (1980) or even several Fellini movies. You can also feel the groundwork being unknowingly laid for the coming Spaghetti Westerns (Gian Maria Voltonté briefly appears here and the script was co-written by future genre master Duccio Tessari) with its blend of physical action and comic-strip mayhem, and, to top it all off, it contains some unintentionally hilarious dialogue (“The blood of Uranus cannot be destroyed!”).
If you’ve never dipped your toe into the gloriously kaleidoscopic waters of the Italian Peplum then I can’t think of a better place to start. Although be warned as you might find entering so inviting you might never want to come out.
