Il gigante di Metropolis

One of my sci-fi/horror/fantasy reviews written 50 years ago: Directed by Umberto Scarpelli; Produced by Emmimo Salvi, released in America as "Giant of the Metropolis" by Seven Arts Productions. Screenplay by Gino Stafford, Emmimo Salvi, Ambrogio Molteni, Sabatino Ciuffini and Oreste Paiella; Photography by Oberdan Troiani; Edited by Franco Fraticelli; Music by Armando Trovajoli; English Dubbing director: Richard McNamara; English Dubbing Script: John Davis Hart. Starring: Gordon Mitchell, Bella Cortez, Roldano Lupi and Carlo Tamberlani.

Combination science fiction and muscleman-in-loincloth feature, where feudalistic state of the future's scientists/priests experiment with immortality.

Co.

Along with THE FURY OF ACHILLES (1962), with which I should re-acquaint myself presently, this is perhaps muscle-bound and pug-ugly Gordon Mitchell's finest hour. The film is an intriguing mix of peplum and sci-fi: I purposefully watched it and the similar (and contemporaneous) L'ATLANTIDE on consecutive days but, in the long run, this is the one to blend the two more successfully (or, if you like, outrageously) by way of imaginative (if clearly cheap i.e. mostly model and matte shots!) and atmospherically-lit sets a' la the work of Mario Bava, weird (and curiously baggy) costumes, and even odd-shaped (to say nothing of unwieldy) weaponry; incidentally, in the opening text scroll, we are told that Metropolis is just another name for Atlantis! The name of the (futuristic) city involved, then, obviously evokes Fritz Lang's seminal masterwork from 1927 and this even does it outright homage by having Metropolis eventually submerged in water (supposedly the fate of the real 'Lost Continent').

Anyway, Mitchell arrives on the scene, ostensibly in search of a promised land, with a whole entourage – but, in the space of five minutes, his father has kicked the bucket of old age and exhaustion, the leader of an accompanying faction opts to go his own way, and the hero's two brothers have a literal meltdown due to the radioactive atmosphere surrounding Metropolis! His own constitution elicits fear and doubt in the mad ruler of the city: the latter is engaged in transplanting the brain of an ancient sage (whom he constantly visits for advise, so much for his supposed superiority!) into his own child-son; he has an elder daughter (who occasionally gratifies him with a sexy exotic dance!) and, following the mysterious death of his wife, married a woman several years his junior (whom he anxiously – and authoritatively – paws despite being obviously hated by her!). As for his subjects, these are a mass of anonymous zombies who invariably rally in the square opposite the palace to cheer or curse as the case may be (but with arms enthusiastically outstretched on both occasions!) – when he decides to revive a former lieutenant of his, however, he is repaid by the latter's conspiring with Mitchell et al to thwart his evil plans!

To get back to the hero, he is imprisoned (via a temperature-altering beam of light, which has him make funny faces whilst appearing to be choking!) and forced into shows-of-strength with a variety of mutant monsters: a giant, which he fells with the over-sized skeletal jaw of some unidentified animal, and a horde of cannibalistic pygmies! Eventually, he meets and conquers – in the romantic sense, naturally – the King's female offspring (she pines for the outside world when shown furtive glimpses of it)…while her step-mom succumbs to suicide by poison rather than reveal the escaped Mitchell's whereabouts. To make matters worse for the King, Metropolis is apparently under constant threat from the elements, specifically Equatorial disorder (which he has scientists continually observe through a periscope and insistently urges them to come up with a solution to the imminent catastrophe!)…and, when one had thought his spirits could not sink any lower, he is haunted by his father's ghost (clearly disapproving of his toying with the Laws of Nature)!

Umberto Scarpelli stepped infrequently in the director's chair (THE GIANT OF METROPOLIS –reasonably engaging but invincibly juvenile such as it is – was the last of only 5, for 3 of which he actually shared the credit with somebody else!); incidentally, the producer/co-writer of the film under review was Emimmo Salvi, who would himself graduate to helming a variety of low-brow "Euro-Cult" fare and worked 6 times in all with the star – a viewing of one of these, THE TREASURE OF THE PETRIFIED FOREST (1965), followed the very next day...

GIANT OF METROPOLIS is pure unadulterated camp fun! Seconding the motion & comments by The Vid of Colorado Springs, this sword and sandal Italian import from the Sixties has just been released on DVD at long last. This was one of my childhood faves and showcases blond hunk Gordon Mitchell, sets by Bava protege Giorgio Giovannini, wild Sodomite dancing, feathered dancers, magnetic death rays, costumes right out of PLANET OF THE VAMPIRES, and this is a must-see for all lovers of Italian sci-fi! Pure guilty pleasure at its best!

Get out the popcorn, junior mints and sodas for this Italian-made grindhouse spectacular. It's ripe with just about every conceivable fetishistic delight that you could get away with at a Saturday matinee or drive-in double feature. There's sword-and-sandal thrills, sci-fi funk, lots of male and female pulchritude, and a wildly sado-masochistic tone that really carries it over the top (as these things go). Only the tightest of asses couldn't enjoy this kind of late-night exploitation sleaze, so check it out and have a groovy movie party! See the terrors, the tortures, the tantalizing lust and all the other sleazy stuff that makes a lost empire cool!

Few movies can truthfully be called "unique," but this comes close. It's a bizarre hybrid, set in Atlantis in 20,000 B.C., which combines the "Hercules" genre with the kind of science-fiction motifs found in Flash Gordon serials. True, the plot is the usual strongman-vs-the-evil-tyrant affair, but the "look" and "atmosphere" surrounding this plot make for striking viewing and have that touch of stylized madness found in only a handful of movies. (Fritz Lang's "Metropolis" and David Lynch's "Dune" are some of the few comparable efforts which spring to mind.) Adding to the almost-hypnotic effect is a somber, restrained, at times almost atonal music score.

Gordon Mitchell spends the entire movie in one of those "Hercules" loincloths and one never tires of looking at his bare torso which is often contorted into a variety of "bondage" positions.

Only in the final cataclysm do the proceedings become routine but for the most part this movie is one of the cinema's most eccentric flights of imagination.