A Review (kinda) of Clash of the Titans (1981)

Some time ago I wrote this up for some friends of mine so I figured I'd see what folks think of it here. It's not a review as much as it's my take on a B-Movie classic. There's foul language and some 'offensive' remarks. It's satire and humor, so... Deal with it.

Just the other night I watched Clash of the Titans for the first time in over two decades, so I'm not talking about the new remake now in theaters with 3D, etc. I'm talking about the 1981 production that casts Laurence Olivier as Zeus, Maggie Smith as Thetis, Burgess Meredith as Ammon, and none other than Harry Hamlin as Perseus. And of course, Ray Harryhausen's gifts as the man who single-handedly created the stop animation creatures.

With my highly developed cynicism, smart-assiness(?), and appreciation for wrongs righted, I still don't understand this tale. But, it is indeed a cautionary tale for all you would-be heroes out there in search of a quest. I've read some of mythology and these tales strike me as valid messages, exemplifying virtues such as bravery, hard work, honesty, etc. While others serve as a warning against ambition and greed, all the things we accept today as bad. Think of them as ancient after school specials without the benefit of content advisory groups or overzealous parents guaranteeing a happy ending or lackluster, bloodless outcomes. These tales hammered out deep, philosophical issues, and portrayed them in rib-sticking ways so that there wasn't any confusion, at least in that specific culture. But this one, is a little skewed in its message.

Now, I'm not a scholar of the ancients, I've dabbled and read and pondered some of these stories, considered their philosophical works, and so on. Frankly, I didn't attend, nor do I know anyone who has, a Greek mythology Sunday school. Meaning these stories aren't as ubiquitous in our time as other personifications of divinity. The point being that if Clash of the Titans is any accurate representation of ancient Greeks and their relationship with the Olympians than I'm glad I wasn't there. I have enough problems dealing with one god whom I frankly don't believe in, never mind a gaggle of them, each after their own agenda.

Anyway, here's my take on Clash of the Titans.

The movie opens with these Greek soldiers tossing a woman, Danae, and her son into the sea while locked in a coffin. Danae happens to be the daughter of King Acrisius, who was warned not to let her get pregnant cause then he'll be killed. All according to some vague prophesy. So, he locks her away, but she manages to get knocked up anyway, and he resorts to infanticide in order to save his own life. I get the lesson here; be a good father, keep your daughter off the pole. Fair enough. Brutally conveyed, but crystal clear. However, this decision leads to an assortment of other atrocities. Apparently, the father of this baby is Zeus, who seduced Danae by appearing in the form of a 'shower of gold' if memory serves. All kinds of commentary can be made here but that's like arguing over which sinful teenager deserves the more gruesome death in a slasher film.

Zeus is pissed. He argues that despite all of Acrisius's homage and worship, that doesn't excuse his murderous act and orders Poseidon to summon the Kraken. Apparently, Scandinavian Titans are available for subcontracting work. Makes sense to me, a job of that enormity, you always go outside the Family. This Kraken swims out of a gate, opened by the white-cladded Poseidon who looks more like a hospice-bound man wandering underwater than a god who oversees more than 2/3 of the earth's surface. And this Kraken sets about destroying Acrisius's kingdom. He does this by bobbing up and down in the water a few times and it's a tsunami-rama that washes this kingdom off the map. Gone. The Kraken goes back to his gate, a short hop from there to the North Sea and maybe even a massage at Helga's Pleasure Dome. I'm only guessing.

Then Zeus has Poseidon rescue the mother and child, tucking them safely on a resort island, Seriphos, confirming my suspicion that Zeus doesn't give a shit about murder, only that this is his son who almost drowned. Don't fuck with the Puppetmaster's kid. Got it.

Perseus grows to be a striking young man, as seen in the brief montage of him doing some horse riding tricks and lounging on the beach; a standard in self-achievement. To me he looks nothing more than a Mediterranean douchebag who pissed away his lineage to be a lifeguard. As is later shown, his roots were explained so he does have a vague but not very well planned goal to reclaim his rightful place in his now long underwater kingdom. I suffer from delusions of grandeur too. They stem mostly from my left-handedness than being the son of a god, but still, I can relate to this.

Meanwhile, Calibos, another striking young man, and son of the goddess, Thetis, engages in nothing as pure and virtuous as horseback riding and sunbathing. No, instead he hunts for sport. Being as this is the only wickedness specified by the teeming Zeus, I can only comment on this. The man provides food for his family while honing his skills for warriorship. This is ancient Greece, land of feuding city-states and the looming threat of Persia handed down to each generation. In Greece there is no bogeyman, just the pant-pissing fear of a nation many times larger than yours who value human life as little or less than you do. I'm going to learn how to use my damn sword too. And since using it against my fellow Greeks seems counter-productive to the goal of nationalistic self-preservation, I'll go after some animals and have a steak in the meantime. It's your world Zeus, I'm just living in it.

So he hunts. His primary game? Winged horses. I've never hunted before, but I can imagine tracking and killing a winged horse with only a sword or spear presents many challenges. Yet, he does it so well, he's brought the species to the brink of extinction. So this all powerful Zeus, who doesn't consider whipping up a new batch of cousins for this lone surviving horse, Pegasus, instead deforms Calibos so badly he turns brown and grows a tail. Naturally, his gorgeous bride-to-be, Princess Andromeda (promised to him since birth), refuses to marry him. Another message not to be taken lightly. If you're marrying above your class, don't get disfigured, it'll ruin your life. If he was the prince and she the ambitious spouse-to-be, she'd still marry him. Why not? There are pool boys, gardeners, personal bodyguards, all sorts of avenues to quench those basic urges. But, that's not how this story goes. So she refuses this self-reliant, decisive man, who can spear a flying horse from 60 yards out because he looks like a bucket of shit with a tail. Nice going Andromeda, you've done it now. Again, I can relate. I once nailed double combo bankshot on the nine ball, advancing to the next round of a tournament. Still didn't get me laid though.

Thetis, in her anger and bitterness that Zeus's kid grows up in paradise without trouble while her son is wrongfully deformed as a consequence of a toiling, sporty lifestyle, punishes Andromeda's city, Joppa. Once rich and happening, it's now reduced to 1930's Mid-western Dust Bowl. No one's happy, everyone's hungry, and life is generally as hopeless as a roach tossed in the toilet. Andromeda is locked away in a tower, and her only chance at marital bliss is for some dashing hero to answer a riddle. The right answer entitles him to her estate and releases Joppa from it's curse. The wrong answer gets him burned at the stake. Why none of these dashing men didn't U-Haul their asses the fuck out of there I have no idea, but they hung around, tried, and set on fire for their effort. Some heroes even traveled to this center of economic hopelessness to try their hand at this slanted I.Q. Test, despite the crispy examples of the locals boys. Naturally, they all failed, Andromeda remained lonely, and the city starved. All because some goddess held a grudge against her boss for his sentimental attachment to a flock of winged-horses.

Thetis doesn't stop there, she also twists Chance to wrench Perseus out of the comfort of sunny Seriphos and into the choking dust of Joppa. More specifically in the middle of an amphitheater just outside of Joppa. To introduce this rich kid to reality and see if he'd wind up hunting divinely protected game as well. Perseus, who before all this, was resting from yet another exhausting day at the Seriphos Beach Resort, awakens in this strange place. As he looks around this voice croaks, “who are you?” Presumably, when one finds themselves in a strange setting and awkwardly confronted by a voice one wouldn't respond with “show yourself!” Seems a bit rude. The air of entitlement rearing it's ugly, snotty head I guess. The voice belongs to Ammon, operator of the theater, freelance poet, and know-it-all scholar. He emerges from backstage amidst smoke and noise in a mask reminiscent of African art, apologizing that he uses this sophisticated light/laser show to scare off “the curious”. Great marketing strategy. In a city of destitution and hunger, let's scare the shit out of anyone who bothered to hike their emaciated asses out here to soak in some Comedy. In a time where some light-hearted diversion would be welcome, Ammon does his damndest to guarantee no one will leave that theater feeling hopeful. Instead, they run for their fucking lives thankful at least the Joppa town crier doesn't throw smoke bombs at them.

So, Ammon (played by Burgess Meredith) welcomes the young Perseus into his theater, fully accepting his queer explanation that he was looking at the moon and now--here he is. This is a culture of excess. Sex, drugs, and flippant torture are routine for this ancient civilization so Ammon patronizes this story as well as the whole, 'I'm the son of god and supposed to restore order' tale. 'No problem', says Ammon, 'let me give you the dime tour and outfit you with some useless shit for your quest'. The son of Zeus readily accepts.

Zeus, watching from the god's Situation Room, is not fucking happy. Again. His kid's been thrown into a crisis indirectly caused by him and he's a little worried about the dopey bastard's chances. So, he tilts the odds in his favor and commands his underling gods and goddesses to supply him with some real weaponry. Advantaged birth has its privileges. I was never given a helmet to make me invisible my first time sneaking out of the house. I'm starting to hate Perseus.

Perseus wakes up in the middle of the amphitheater the next morning (Ammon, obviously convinced this kid's deranged, smartly insisted he sleep outside) and practices with his wooden dagger. During his routine, he's distracted by something shiny and abandons his training to investigate. I know this leads to beneficial circumstances for Perseus, but still, this lack of focus isn't very encouraging. The shiny objects are this helmet I mentioned, a sword that slices through marble, and a shield 'that will one day guard his life', as explained by an image of Poseidon, who once again looks confused as to how in the hell he got there in the first place. Personally, I wouldn't trust the word of an old man so openly baffled, but this isn't my story. Besides, isn't that what a shield is for? Apparently, the realm of Obvious falls under Posiedon's rule as well.

Now, Ammon who is current on his stock of props and special effects gadgets, doesn't recall these items, convincing him that Perseus's hunk of self-promoting bullshit is actually true. Now Perseus is ready for his quest, but before the wise Ammon can get the anxious dolt to settle down and make a plan, he wants to wander off in his helmet and check out Joppa. Can't blame him. All kinds of possibilities exist for a young man, likely a virgin, who can traipse invisibly through a big city. Nowadays, people like that are locked up, but this isn't in our time so suspension of disbelief is necessary.

Perseus arrives at the gates of Joppa, where he meets Thallo, a soldier guarding this gate also serving as greeter. All too happy to explain the troubles of Joppa, the malcontented Thallo probably has the Joppa real estate community pulling their damn hair out every time a newcomer approached. This is where Perseus learns of Andromeda's plight. Typical of a rich kid, he doesn't give a damn about the starving masses, but just wants to nail the popular girl. How does he go about this? Some good old-fashioned hardcore stalking. He sneaks into her bed chamber, watches her sleep, likely equipped with a digital camera of sorts. He moves to arrange her in various compromising positions but is foiled when her soul leaves her body and sleepwalks to the balcony door. Then the biggest fucking vulture you've ever seen comes by and drops a cage on the balcony. All the time barking strange noises not at all associated with birds of any size or ilk. As a child when I first saw this, I remember keeping one eye on the sky for weeks afterward. Now, I'm just wondering why they didn't send a courier or chariot. They invented the wheel by then, why not swing by and pick her up? Instead they send this monstrosity to get her, scaring the shit out of the neighbors and likely dragging down the already plummeting property value. Haven't the people of Joppa been through enough?

Anyway, Perseus's night is ruined, watching helplessly as the vulture flies away with Andromeda's soul in the cage. Her body was right there in the bed and he just left… I don't know what he was thinking. Since Zeus didn't equip him with a means to fly, he went back to the amphitheater, desolate and inconsolable. Ammon, fulfilling his role within the framework of the Mythical Journey as the Mentor, has a suggestion.
“You know that wild beast? The last of its kind? You know what I'm talking about, Perseus, that horse with wings. The one that exists in a perpetual state of grace and beauty. An animal that's godlike in its origins. The one your father warned us all to keep our dickbeaters off through the grotesque example of Calibos. By the way, this horse is the only thing that attracts visitors to our shithole of a town, providing at least a trickle of monetary salvation to the public coffers. Our only means to stock the food banks, clean the sewers, and pay our teachers' meager salaries. Yeah, that horse.” Ammon sagely strokes his chin, “if you can somehow get a rope around its neck...”

Off they go to a smoky pond lit by the full moon. There, they ambush this majestic creature with the aid of his helmet. Perseus struggles to tame the animal as Ammon pounds the ring's canvas, urging Perseus to “get up goddammit, get up!” Finally, the horse is tethered and shackled. They use the helmet to scoop some water, which is all the damn horse wanted in the first place and let him drink. Now everyone's friends.

The next night, this vulture comes along and the same drill, but now Perseus is in fully committed stalker mode on his newly beaten into submission ride. They follow Andromeda to a swamp, filmed with footage of real alligators and stop-motion created toads. Much safer that way. And here, with Perseus invisible, he learns of the relationship between Andromeda and Calibos. This scene is heartwrenching in its sincerity. All Calibos wants is another shot with his ex-girlfriend. That's it folks, nothing more. He doesn't want anyone to needlessly suffer either. He's not cruel or vicious, just distempered. Andromeda begs him to stop the curse so no more dashing young men go to their fiery doom. She never mentions the starving masses, apparently she doesn't give a shit about them either. Fuck it, let'em eat cake. She only cares about the dwindling stable of brainless hunks burnt beyond recognition for her benefit. Young ladies, take note, this is how you get a galaxy named after you.

However, Calibos won't relinquish his curse, and as per the ritual, hands her another riddle for some other moron to guess, and likely set afire. She's dismissed, not at all considering the easy solution of self-sacrifice and marrying this abomination to stop the madness. Nope. She goes home, in her cage, and risks another man's life and his potential to do great things like slice bread or invent the Clapper. As this scene closes in his lair attended by minions who likely wandered in from the set of a caveman movie, Calibos notices a set of footprints the invisible Perseus leaves behind as he exits. Perseus goes back to the swamp where he left Pegasus to fend for himself among the live gators and fake toads, and the horse is gone. Shocking when you consider the horse's perspective. Some asshole locks me up for no other reason than my genetic happenstance. I'd be gone too.

Calibos tracks the careless Perseus, who lost his fucking horse, and attacks him from behind, nearly strangling him. (Note, this is not cowardly. He is unarmed and well within his Constitutional rights. Remember, he was banished to this swamp and this asshole snuck in to eavesdrop.) Naturally our hero fights back, unsheathing his sword of incalculable strength and maneuvers a swipe with the blade. In the midst of this struggle Perseus loses his damn helmet. Does he look for it? No. This is a gift from the gods, and he just leaves it behind. My parents made me walk all around Albion Park for hours when I lost my fucking baseball glove. Man, I really hate this guy.

The next day, in this great hall, where Queen Cassiopeia taunts more numbskulls to engage in this sadistic gameshow, Perseus arrives. Andromeda recognizes him from a dream, not realizing her soul spotted him trying to cop a feel off her sleeping form. He announces he'll give the riddle a try and answers it. What the riddle is, I don't really remember, nor does it matter. What does matter, however, is how he came upon the answer. He cheated. He learned the riddle beforehand, had a full night to study, and still wouldn't have gotten the answer cause he's a dumbass. The answer was the ring on Calibos's hand that Perseus cut off while scurrying away from the swamp. So he callously tosses the hand on the steps for all to see, and spins some yarn about his merciful arrangement with the luck-fucked Calibos; remove the curse on Joppa and you live. The crowd roars its approval, never questioning his methods of home invasion, burglary, and assault, the stomping on certain inalienable rights or anything like that. Nope, they just want a damn chicken in their pot and to hell with civil liberty. By the way, my freshman year in high school, when I snuck into my teacher's desk and stole the answers to the vocabulary quiz, no one applauded my dashing, my competitve nature, not even my skills of stealth. I was given a zero and fed a mouthful of shit from my parents, my mother wailing about permanent records and such. I really hate Perseus now.

So that's it. The story's over. Perseus and Andromeda have their wedding ceremony, the stockmarket's up, and people are working. Things couldn't be better.

Back to the Situation Room. Thetis is enraged. Her deformed son is not only banished and heartbroken, but with only a missing hand, he qualifies for maybe 25% disability; hardly enough to live on. He wants retribution and who can deny him? So she agrees and awaits her opportunity of justified spitefulness.

This comes in the form Cassiopeia, an example of when stupid women-in-charge attack. The ceremony is just about over, these two lovebirds can't wait to be alone and the crowd is eager for some raunchy tribute to Dionysus. So then what happens? Cassiopeia steps on her proverbial dick by announcing her wedding gift to be more lovely and beautiful than Thetis, the patron goddess of Joppa. That's all the sultry bitch upstairs needed. She shudders out an earthquake, topples the head of her giant sculptor off its shoulders and it crashes to the floor. A symbolic gesture to stoop to the level of mortals. Here she proclaims that Cassiopeia's blasphemous insults to her vanity will not go unpunished and that in 30 days, Andromeda is to be sacrificed to the Kraken. The Kraken was booked at the time doing all sorts of what-have-you and needed a month's notice for appearances. It's that time of year, weddings and wholesale urban destruction. I'm sure there was a deposit involved too. To add insult to injury, Thetis cockblocks Perseus by stipulating if Andromeda is not a virgin when she's sacrificed, Thetis will go apeshit and Joppa will suffer her conniption induced apocalypse. Nice going Cassiopeia, you just ruined the fucking party for everyone. Hence the story is far from over, furthering loss of life and collateral damage.

Doomed to sexual frustration and the loss of his ill-gotten seat of power, Perseus taps his scholar buddy once more for a solution. How to kill the Kraken? Nevermind this beast may be an essential part of the ocean's ecological balance, Perseus wants to nail Andromeda. Ammon skirts his responsibility and defers to the Stygian Witches, three miserable spinsters who live on the frontier of Joppa. Perseus is set to ride off and ask them but Thallo warns him that they have a taste for human flesh. His proof? Absolutely none. They once sent a party out to ask them for some financial advice to save Joppa and never returned. That's it. Shady at best. Maybe they got lost, found an oasis, fell off a damn mountainside. Who knows? But they jump right to the conclusion that these three, blind, witches ate them. Proof once again of the miserable pettiness of the human condition. If we don't understand something, then not only can't it be good, let's accuse it of the most heinous thing we can think of.

Perseus sets out to ride off. Of course time is a factor so he wants to use his newly enslaved Pegasus horse to swiftly bring him there and back with the answer. But, Calibos stole the horse. And let that be a lesson to you Perseus. Pet ownership, no matter how misguided, is a responsibility. So you don't just ditch the fucking animal chained in a field, to be bagged by some other passer by. Especially when there's a justifiably pissed off Satyr out to get you. So, Pegasus, suffering through another dismal chapter in its life, is held captive in Calibos's headquarters. But what does Perseus do? He shrugs it off, no big deal. Hey buddy, so far you've dropped your helmet in a swamp and allowed your flying horse to go AWOL. This brand of leadership would be unacceptable in most circles. Not with this pack of knuckleheads though. A small contingent of Joppa's armed forces agrees to ride with this moron in search of the witches.

Andromeda wants to go too. Ain't that some shit? Does she feel any tug of royal responsibility towards her role in Joppa's affairs? No. Armageddon is right around the corner and does she stay behind to handle any of the overwhelming administrative duties? Nope. Wages and prices need to be frozen, marshal law declared and enforced, riotous masses to be calmed, and I'm pretty damn sure sandbags are a staple in any doomsday action plan. Instead, she gallops off with Perseus and his squad of ill-fated soldiers to consult with some hags.

Of course, they get lost. Not surprising, really. They left on impulse, without any provisions, and no map. Still, these idiots, supposedly battle-hardened and familiar with the logistical requirements of a march, let this post-adolescent rich boy lead them, straight into a desert without landmarks. Nice going dickhead. So what happens?

We go back to the Situation Room where Zeus and the other Olympians watch. Is he not a little pissed off or even ashamed of his son's incompetence? Not at all, the lad just hasn't enough help. So, despite of his total lack of accountability in losing a helmet and one-of-kind flying horse, Zeus arranges for him to receive another gift. In the form of an omniscient owl, Athena's pet. Finally, someone in this comedy of errors has some sense. Athena refuses to release her beloved owl, Bubo, into the care of Perseus's clumsy hands and instead has this clanky noisemaking replica constructed to serve as guide. Robo-Bubo is dispatched and arrives, speaking a verbal binary only Perseus can understand. The owl leads them to the den of the witches and although I remarked earlier on the hastily assumed cannibalistic nature of these witches, well it turns out to be true. Still, we have to maintain due process.

Perseus sneaks into the cave. A hard task considering the witches are blind and can only see through a small crystal sphere they have to share between them. And he still gets caught. I'm now convinced Perseus is functionally retarded. Next, he calls on Bubo to steal their eyeball. Some call it delegating, I call it fucked up. This is your idea pal, not the innocent little owl's who didn't ask to be there. Not to mention Bubo is the noisiest member of the group. Let's make sure we forfeit any tactical advantage here. Bubo heroically flutters into the cave, snatches the eye and brings it to Perseus, who waggles it front of the witches, not understanding how blindness negates such boastful waggling. He barters a deal, the eye for some answers, the first bit of intelligence displayed by our hero. No one dies, no one's shackled, and everyone gets what they want. But then the prick thinks it'll be a fucking hoot to throw the eyeball into a corner of the cave where these wretched, handicapped, witches will never find it. What an asshole.

To be continued.