"Clash of the Titans" is the quintessential fantasy put on film. From start to finish, it is a delightfully entertaining little extravaganza packed full of alternate-reality spectacle and wonder. It is also a testament to the discipline, as well as the talents, of special effects wizard Ray Harryhausen, who is both at his most skillful and his most mature levels here. In most of his movies, it is his stop-motion animated creatures and worlds that draw people. Take, for example, "Jason and the Argonauts," regarded as, I feel incorrectly, his best picture. Whenever I watch that picture, it is never for the thin characterizations and less-than-charismatic acting. Hence why Harryhausen's hydra, skeletons, and other weird and fantastic figures took center-stage consistently in that movie.
However, even though "Clash of the Titans" contains probably twice as many monsters as "Jason and the Argonauts," they actually play second-fiddle to the flesh-and-blood people. And the results are actually kind of refreshing. For not only is the screenplay just as interested in the character as in the monsters, but the people, both on earth and Mount Olympus, are interesting in their own small way. The creatures—which include Medusa the Gorgon, a mechanical owl built by the gods, a two-headed wolf, a giant sea monster, among others—are part of the fantastic world of Greek mythology, but it is Harry Hamlin, as Perseus, who runs away with the show.
Hamlin, a better actor than often given credit for, is smart in the way he portrays Perseus. He goes not go for a dramatic, over-the-top performance; he realizes that he's not in a stage production of "Hamlet." He consciously underplays the performance, somehow getting off so much charisma and gusto without over-emoting as would be the tendency. Hamlin is instantly likable from the start, as he ought to be, and carries us through the fantastic journey to save the princess Andromeda (also well-played by Judi Bowker) from the vengeance of a jealous goddess. Hamlin and Bowker have a delightfully old-fashioned romance together on-film, one that does not go into too much detail, as too much detail would seem unnecessary. After all, this is a fantasy about what the Greeks imagined life before them, not a deep, philosophical study about the meaning of life. The other human performances are good in the context of a mythology film. After all, mythology usually never gave us much in the way of character backgrounds and personalities. The screenplay and actors realize this and make the best of it all. I particularly liked Burgess Meredith as the quirky, wise storyteller who helps explain the background and context to the audience as well as the other characters. And as for the people on Mount Olympus, well, what more could you want other than to see Laurence Olivier dominating the sets as Zeus? Olivier much more efficiently captures the sense of semi-tyranny and temperamental power than what we got from Niall MacGinnis in "Jason the Argonauts."
But what is so special about "Clash of the Titans" is the way it whole-heartedly believes in its own world and the sense of spectacle and majesty it evokes. When we first hear Laurence Rosenthal's music at the opening, there is a spell-binding sense of majesty in "Clash of the Titans." Everything, even a simple landscape shot of Perseus and the other heroes riding on horseback against an early morning sky, has a spine-tingling sensation to it. And, despite the temptation that surely would have been ever-present during production, the movie does not condescend into self-parody. The only comic relief—and it is completely deliberate—is a mechanical owl named Bubo. Now questions have always risen whether Bubo or the "Star Wars" character R2-D2 came out first ("Clash of the Titans" was released after "Star Wars," but had been in production since the late 70s), but regardless, Bubo is insistently charming and funny: a klutzy little thing with a big 'heart,' I guess you could say. As soon as he falls from a tree branch in his introductory scene, he's won our hearts. And seeing him whipped down from his perch by a villain later in the film leaves us gasping. We like this little mechanical critter.
The other creatures have their sense of majesty as well. The best of all being the Kraken, the sea monster sent to devour Andromeda. Harryhausen pulls all of his special effects skills together in this marvelous climax. And the scene takes its time padding out: the Kraken takes its time in its attack, menacing Andromeda and the people watching with snarls and lashes of its four powerful arms. It seems to be enjoying the panic it causes, and Rosenthal's music, heavy with trombones, punches our eardrums and raises our pulses.
The special effects are overall very impressive, with only a few dreadful lapses. But none concern the stop-motion effects, only the rotoscope. The flat, quirky silhouetted bird we see playing beneath the opening credits is frighteningly amateur and furthermore, not even necessary. If the filmmakers were wise to enough to save an extra print of the footage, they would have been better just cutting it out and letting the audience fill in the blanks. A couple of shots from a scene where the Kraken demolishes a city, with optically tricked-in water pounding upon victims, also has a staged feeling to it.
But those are small lapses. Most of the effects are absolutely brilliant—Harryhausen at his absolute pinnacle—and contribute to the movie's sense of wonder and spectacle. Now Harryhausen films have always been a part of my life, ever since childhood. My adoration has not fizzled over the years, even if weaknesses show through sometimes. But "Clash of the Titans" has aged astronomically well, and it is, as far as I am concerned, the very best film Harryhausen ever worked on. And again, his most disciplined, for he allows the people to take center-stage over his monsters.
However, even though "Clash of the Titans" contains probably twice as many monsters as "Jason and the Argonauts," they actually play second-fiddle to the flesh-and-blood people. And the results are actually kind of refreshing. For not only is the screenplay just as interested in the character as in the monsters, but the people, both on earth and Mount Olympus, are interesting in their own small way. The creatures—which include Medusa the Gorgon, a mechanical owl built by the gods, a two-headed wolf, a giant sea monster, among others—are part of the fantastic world of Greek mythology, but it is Harry Hamlin, as Perseus, who runs away with the show.
Hamlin, a better actor than often given credit for, is smart in the way he portrays Perseus. He goes not go for a dramatic, over-the-top performance; he realizes that he's not in a stage production of "Hamlet." He consciously underplays the performance, somehow getting off so much charisma and gusto without over-emoting as would be the tendency. Hamlin is instantly likable from the start, as he ought to be, and carries us through the fantastic journey to save the princess Andromeda (also well-played by Judi Bowker) from the vengeance of a jealous goddess. Hamlin and Bowker have a delightfully old-fashioned romance together on-film, one that does not go into too much detail, as too much detail would seem unnecessary. After all, this is a fantasy about what the Greeks imagined life before them, not a deep, philosophical study about the meaning of life. The other human performances are good in the context of a mythology film. After all, mythology usually never gave us much in the way of character backgrounds and personalities. The screenplay and actors realize this and make the best of it all. I particularly liked Burgess Meredith as the quirky, wise storyteller who helps explain the background and context to the audience as well as the other characters. And as for the people on Mount Olympus, well, what more could you want other than to see Laurence Olivier dominating the sets as Zeus? Olivier much more efficiently captures the sense of semi-tyranny and temperamental power than what we got from Niall MacGinnis in "Jason the Argonauts."
But what is so special about "Clash of the Titans" is the way it whole-heartedly believes in its own world and the sense of spectacle and majesty it evokes. When we first hear Laurence Rosenthal's music at the opening, there is a spell-binding sense of majesty in "Clash of the Titans." Everything, even a simple landscape shot of Perseus and the other heroes riding on horseback against an early morning sky, has a spine-tingling sensation to it. And, despite the temptation that surely would have been ever-present during production, the movie does not condescend into self-parody. The only comic relief—and it is completely deliberate—is a mechanical owl named Bubo. Now questions have always risen whether Bubo or the "Star Wars" character R2-D2 came out first ("Clash of the Titans" was released after "Star Wars," but had been in production since the late 70s), but regardless, Bubo is insistently charming and funny: a klutzy little thing with a big 'heart,' I guess you could say. As soon as he falls from a tree branch in his introductory scene, he's won our hearts. And seeing him whipped down from his perch by a villain later in the film leaves us gasping. We like this little mechanical critter.
The other creatures have their sense of majesty as well. The best of all being the Kraken, the sea monster sent to devour Andromeda. Harryhausen pulls all of his special effects skills together in this marvelous climax. And the scene takes its time padding out: the Kraken takes its time in its attack, menacing Andromeda and the people watching with snarls and lashes of its four powerful arms. It seems to be enjoying the panic it causes, and Rosenthal's music, heavy with trombones, punches our eardrums and raises our pulses.
The special effects are overall very impressive, with only a few dreadful lapses. But none concern the stop-motion effects, only the rotoscope. The flat, quirky silhouetted bird we see playing beneath the opening credits is frighteningly amateur and furthermore, not even necessary. If the filmmakers were wise to enough to save an extra print of the footage, they would have been better just cutting it out and letting the audience fill in the blanks. A couple of shots from a scene where the Kraken demolishes a city, with optically tricked-in water pounding upon victims, also has a staged feeling to it.
But those are small lapses. Most of the effects are absolutely brilliant—Harryhausen at his absolute pinnacle—and contribute to the movie's sense of wonder and spectacle. Now Harryhausen films have always been a part of my life, ever since childhood. My adoration has not fizzled over the years, even if weaknesses show through sometimes. But "Clash of the Titans" has aged astronomically well, and it is, as far as I am concerned, the very best film Harryhausen ever worked on. And again, his most disciplined, for he allows the people to take center-stage over his monsters.