Remembering Ray :: Heroic on a Colossal Scale :: A 22 Vid-Cap Look at Don Chaffey's Jason and the Argonauts (1963)

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"The gods are best served by those 

who need their help the least."

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After the treacherous Palias murders his father and sister to usurp the throne of Thesally, the infant Jason, with some divine intervention from Hera, queen of the gods, slips through the tyrant's bloody fingers. But once he reaches manhood, Jason returns home to claim his proper birthright. However, Palias, who cannot kill Jason lest he kill himself, says Hera, through subterfuge, dupes the rightful heir into questing for the Golden Fleece; a mystical symbol that will help unite the people under his banner to overthrow the false king. This is nothing more than a suicide mission, which is the perfect solution for Palias. For nobody really knows where the Fleece is, except a general notion that is beyond the sea where no Greek has yet to tread. A journey that is destined to be fraught with peril at every turn...

It's a fairly safe bet when people today recollect the legend of Jason and his quest for the Golden Fleece, what they remember is the plot from Jason and the Argonauts. However, the true tale of Jason, according to the myth, if memory serves from reading the Argonautica way, way back in junior high, found Jason to be kind of an easily distracted dolt while an enchanted and duped Medea did most of the heavy lifting, with her magicks and sorcery, after they hooked-up, courtesy of Hera, who brainwashed her into falling in love with the hapless dope (-- though it might have been Aphrodite; again, it's been awhile since I read my Apollonius...), that won Jason his eventual revenge against the evil Palias. 

After the lukewarm reception at the box-office for Mysterious Island (1961), the tandem of producer Charles H. Schneer and F/X wizard Ray Harryhausen decided to once more return to the myths of old, hoping to bottle the lighting that struck the highly successful The 7th Voyage of Sinbad for their bosses at Columbia. Looking to the legends of the Greeks and Romans, after first considering the tale of Perseus (-- notions tabled and eventually used some twenty years later in Clash of the Titans), the duo settled on the tale of Jason and his epic jaunt; they even tinkered with a notion of somehow getting Sinbad displaced in time to join the Argonauts, but this idea was quickly abandoned. *whew*
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While coming up with his F/X set-pieces, one cannot blame Harryhausen for some of the liberties taken with this story and his cherry-picking of a few other mythical creatures to add to the mix for the captain and crew of the Argo to encounter. Gone was the isle of Lemnos, inhabited by a tribe of foul-smelling women, who killed their philandering men after they abandoned them for less aromatic company (-- though this tale was sort of brought to cinematic light in James Wolcott's The Wild Women of Wango); gone were the multi-armed giants, the Gegeines, slain in droves by Hercules when they attacked the ship when it stopped for supplies. However, Harryhausen did combine this notion of giants attacking the ship with Talos, originally encountered after the Fleece was found, who went from a being who could turn himself molten hot to burn his enemies to an iron colossus, both felled by the same means of an all too easily accessible drain-plug in his foot. 

 
Defending the blaspheming Phineas (played by future Dr. Who, Patrick Troughton,) from the Harpies in return for directions to Colchis is pretty much intact. And those directions included a trip through the Symplegades a/k/a the Crashing Rocks; though Harryhausen's solution to call upon Triton as a stabilizer to make it through the collapsing channel is much more dynamic than the print version and is one of my favorite scenes in the whole movie. And though the use of an actor and miniatures for this sequence was atypical for Harryhausen it certainly saved time; and it was also more practical in that water is impossible to animate frame by frame. Anyways, the end results is fantastic. 

Once Colchis is reached, treachery by Acastus (Raymond), the son of Palias (Wilmer), scuttles any negotiations with King Aeetes. In the story, Jason is given three challenges to win the Golden Fleece, and, with Medea's helpful magic, he gets to work. The first, dealing with some stubborn, fire-breathing beasts of burden was abandoned but the other two were co-opted for the climax. However, after already animating one for Sinbad, Harryhausen substituted in a seven-headed Hydra for the Seepless Dragon, which Jason must defeat to claim his prize. And the third challenge, facing the Spartoi, an army of the dead, bred and raised from the teeth of the slain Dragon/Hydra, provided one of the most rousing and insanely awesome climaxes of Harryhausen's career. And as our heroes sail off into the sunset, we should probably be thankful that they skipped the part where Medea covered their escape by murdering and dismembering her brother, leading their father on a grisly chase to recover all the pieces. Wow. And it only gets worse for our couple on the way back to Thessally, folks. Luckily, another tale for another day...

As per usual, once Harryhausen had his scenarios hashed-out and drawn-up, the material was turned over to a scriptwriter to try and stitch them together. Jan Read was given first crack at it, but when this version proved too dense and convoluted it was turned over to Beverly Cross, a noted Greek and Roman mythology expert, for a massive overhaul, and who was responsible for most of what wound up on screen. And along with all the action and adventure, I truly love the subtext on the twilight of the Greek gods, who see their hold on mankind slipping away. Here, the denizens of Olympus are shown lazily lounging around, and screwing with these mortals via an ersatz game of Risk, moving pieces around the board, trying to one up each other, despite (and in spite of) the terrestrial consequences.

However, one gets a sense that even they are tiring of these games. And when Jason is brought before them and refuses Zeus' divine offer of help, relying on the "hearts" of his fellow men instead, and then openly defies him later by helping Phineas, one can sense the shift of power. In the past, this probably would've gotten Jason a lightning bolt enema. Now, an exasperated Zeus says if he punishes all blasphemers, there'd be no one left to offer him sacrifice. Still, even as the film ends, a pragmatic Zeus allows this happy ending but admits he isn't through with Jason yet. And if you know how Jason's tale ultimately ends, which, to put it mildly, through his own folly and philandering, ends pretty #%*@ing horribly, maybe one should consider Zeus' retribution was merely delayed. But! One could also argue that the elder god just sat back and watched as these foolish mortals destroyed themselves. Hea-Vey. Anyhoo...
  

Two Columbia contract players were given the leads of Jason and Medea; and both Todd Armstrong and Nancy Kovack were eventually dubbed over when it was decided they both sounded too American when surrounded by all those British character actors -- so all those rumors about their voices being awful are patently false. Armstrong is great, and brings a real and earnest everyman quality to our hero. Kovack's a knock-out, but frankly, Medea shows up way too late in the story to have much of an impact. Removing her mystical powers didn't help, leaving her without much to do except get rescued, turn traitor, and get shot in the back. Up on Olympus, with all that bickering, Niall MacGinnis's Zeus and Honor Blackman's Hera are about two jugs of oinos away from being afraid of Virginia Woolf (-- if you know what I mean). And even though he was just a minor character who left this quest way too early, Nigel Green nearly steals the whole damned movie with his take on Hercules -- a performace so great it even overshadows some of Harryhausen's creations. 

While Harryhausen worked his magic at Shepperton studios in England, the live-action portions were filmed in and around the small Italian seaside village of Pilanuro and the ruined temples of Paestum. In the director's chair, Don Chaffey kept things chugging along nicely between F/X shots. Behind the camera, this also marked the fourth time Wilkie Cooper served as cinematographer for Schneer on these fantasy epics, working in lock-step with Harryhausen to get the shots he needed. Also, Bernard Hermann's score is a rousing success, though sharp ears will hear the cannibalized strains of North by Northwest, The Day the Earth Stood Still and Vertigo. And when shooting was completed, the Argo was sold to 20th Century Fox to be used in Cleopatra to help offset some of the production costs, which topped $3 million, easily the most expensive Schneer-Harryhausen co-production to date. And somewhat ironically, Columbia submitted Jason and the Argonauts to the Academy for consideration in the special-effects category but it didn't even make the cut while the award that year went to the bloated and over-cooked Cleopatra. Feh. 

From concept to release date, it took almost two years to complete Jason and the Argonauts. (The skeleton fight itself, which lasts less than five minutes took over four months to animate.) Alas, once again, the film did not do great guns at the box-office and critical reaction of the day was universally harsh, merciless, and downright brutal in most circles. History, however, proved this initial hiccup was an anomaly as the film is now (rightfully) championed as one of the greatest fantasy films of all time. The Valley of Gwangi is still my favorite Ray Harryhausen movie, but Jason and the Argonauts is definitely the best. It was Ray's favorite, too.

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"It is Harryhausen -- not the actors, not the 
director -- who is the star of the pictures with 
which he is involved. He is the attraction."
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Danny Peary xxxx

Cult Movies xxxx

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Jason and the Argonauts was my personal introduction to the Dynamic Dynamation of Ray Harryhausen; a matinee screening during its re-release back in the 1970's. I vividly recall the younger me watching, transfixed, as the Children of the Hydra first broke out of the ground and assembled and, after scraping my jaw off the floor, I haven't been the same since. And though my dream of being a stop-motion monster animator this encounter inspired never came to pass, I have been living vicariously through Harryhausen’s films, and the films he inspired, ever since and enjoying the hell out of every minute of them. And for that I would like to say, Thanks.

Okay, folks, this post is just part of a trio of reviews put together by a motley triumvirate of Blogs to honor the the life and times of animation pioneer Ray Harryhausen.
 

Checkpoint Telstar: Clash of the Titans.
 

Cinemasochist Apocalypse: The Golden Voyage of Sinbad.
 

Micro-Brewed Reviews: Jason and the Argonauts.
 

Please check 'em out, won't you? Thank you.
 

Other Points of Interest:

The newspaper ads for Jason and the Argonauts at the Morgue.

Jason and the Argonauts (1963) Columbia Pictures Corporation / P: Charles H. Schneer / AP: Ray Harryhausen / D: Don Chaffey / W: Jan Read, Beverley Cross, Apollonios Rhodios (poem) / C: Wilkie Cooper / E: Maurice Rootes / M: Bernard Herrmann / S: Todd Armstrong, Nancy Kovack, Gary Raymond, Laurence Naismith, Douglas Wilmer, Nigel Green, Niall MacGinnis, Honor Blackman

Trailer Park :: The Epic Scope and Sheer Magnitude of Cy Endfield's Zulu (1964)

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"Because we're here, lad."
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Back in 1879 Great Britain suffered one of its worst military disasters on the mountain slopes of Isandhlwanda, Natal, Africa, when 1300 Redcoats were overwhelmed and massacred by a large force of Zulu warriors. (And I pause for historical accuracy to add that the Brits were the aggressors, here.) Flush with victory, chief Cetshwayo next sent his impis, 4000 strong, to finish clearing out the invaders by destroying the outpost at Rourke's Drift; a Swedish mission doubling as a military hospital, where a small Welsh unit of barely a 100 men were stationed. This is where the film Zulu begins...

When word of the massacre reaches the mission, Lt. Chard (Baker), a Royal Engineer, abandons the bridge he was sent to build and musters the company to shore up the small outpost's defenses. Outranked by only a few months, Lt. Bromhead (Caine -- in his big screen debut), grudgingly relinquishes command of his men to Chard. And then the tension builds from the inside out as the fortifications go up and the camera lingers on the meager force back-dropped against the vast landscape, further fueled by the drunken ravings of Reverend Witt (Hawkins), who admonishes them to leave or they will all most assuredly be killed when the tide of Zulus arrive and overrun them.


Judging by the trailer I suppose you could consider Zulu as one of those old fashioned manly-men movies that could have easily been gleaned straight out of the lurid Sweats and male adventure magazines from the 1950's and '60s. Sure, it's wrought with a few historical inaccuracies but I think that's selling it a bit short. Check out the great scene early on in the film, when the brass works on their defense strategy with Ardendorff (Gert Van den Bergh), a Zulu expert and survivor of the earlier battle, and Bromhead dismisses the native levies who also died as "cowardly blacks." He is quickly rebuffed and reminded that it isn't the Grenadier Guards coming to wipe them out. Ardendorff also brought orders that they are to hold their position indefinitely, no matter what, to which Chard snipes about which "son or heir" -- who did nothing to earn their commission -- gave that asinine order. Now it's Bromhead's turn to be indignant, when he points out that they're no one's son or heir now. It's not very subtle, granted, but it does a nice job of evening out the playing field. You definitely feel the loss of humanity on both sides when the bullets and spears start flying, and you also witness bravery on both sides of the walls as well. After that the politics are left to the politicians; this is a tale of soldiers, and the only preaching comes from the inebriated Witt. And when a panicky private asks why they have to fight, the answer is simple: because we're here.


About the first third of the film is just a warm-up, dedicated to the fortifications, while the rest of the film is basically just one long, sustained battle sequence with a few brief -- and I mean brief, respites. Wave after wave of native warriors crash into the walls but are beaten back with sound strategy and superior fire power. But with every Zulu they knock down, three seem to take his place. And as the battle rages all day and into the night, with casualties mounting and most of the outpost burning or burned out, come the dawn, they all know their luck won't hold out forever. And when the sun does rise the next morning, I can only hope you all were as enthralled as I was when the Zulus sang and beat out their war chant and the Brits counter with their own hymn of defiance. Then, when the stand-off ends, and the final battle finally breaks wide open, I'll warn you that just when you think it's over it isn't as there are several surprises and one huge "Oh shit" moment still left to be unveiled.


For a guy who never really did anything like this before, director Cy Endfield, with a helpful assist from cinematographer Stephen Dade, is to be commended for his staging and execution. The battle scenes last well over and hour and, with some artful framing and extended set-ups, are truly incredible to watch. And he took the time to let us get to know some of the men -- from malingerer turned hero, Hook (Booth), to the stiff upper lip of Sgt. Bourne (Green -- who, with all apologies to Steve Reeves, made a great Hercules in Jason and the Argonauts) -- so we care what happens to them. There is some unintentional humor here, though, as the British troops are so regimented to a fault you half expect Graham Chapman -- decked out as the colonel from Monty Python -- to pop up and tell everyone to "Stop being silly" and then promptly take a Zulu spear to the chest. And to train his native extras, Endfield had to show them an old Gene Autry western so they could understand what they were doing.


As I said before, aside from a few bit parts, this was Michael Caine's big screen debut, and most of the art for the VHS and DVD covers tout this, and him, but the film really belongs to Richard Burton's drinking buddy, Stanley Baker. (And if anyone steals the movie, it's not Caine but Green.) This film was his baby, and the tough, gritty and highly combustible actor formed Diamond Films, secured financing from Joseph E. Levine, and hired the black-listed Endfield to write and direct the feature for him. Both actors do well anchoring the film, held up admirably by the supporting cast, and gives the carnage and story told here a lot of weight and emotional punch.


When it's all said and done, Zulu is not without its flaws (-- sharp eyes will spot re-animated corpses on both sides; Hook's malcontent seems anachronistically out of place; and some intentional humor misses badly), but it pluses leave the minuses choking on a lot of dust. From the actors, to the action, to one fantastic, rousing score from composer John Barry, it has something that today's big and empty blockbusters just don't have. Sure, they try the same noise and thunder (-- hell, Gladiator stole the Zulu's war chant for the "Unleash Hell" sequence), but they always seem lacking when it comes to three simple words: sheer, scope and magnitude. I don't think you can make grandeur, I think grandeur happens -- and I sure as a hell know you can't generate it on a computer. I mean, take a look at the scene when the Zulus first approach the mission. At first we don't even see them, but it sounds like the approach of an oncoming train. And when they do finally appear, that's about 700 non-CGI'd extras on the bluffs encircling the camp. So, do yourself a favor, when you track down the DVD make sure you don't get the cheaper pan-n-scan version. You need to see this thing letterboxed to fully appreciate the sheer magnitude of Zulu's epic scope.


Zulu (1964) Diamond Films :: Paramount Pictures / EP: Joseph E. Levine / P: Stanley Baker, Cy Endfield / AP: Basil Keys / D: Cy Endfield / W: John Prebble, Cy Endfield / C: Stephen Dade / E: John Jympson / M: John Barry / S: Stanley Baker, Michael Caine, Jack Hawkins, Ulla Jacobsson, James Booth, Nigel Green