Maciste, No. 3 - Maciste in the Land of the Cyclops (1961)

Gordon Mitchell, our latest bodybuilding ubermensch, is a more interesting figure (by far) than most of the musclemen. He fought in WWII’s Battle of the Bulge (for the United States), which was so named presumably for his rippling physique. Mitchell, who was then called Charles Allen Pendleton (what, not Anglo enough for the Italians?!), was taken a prisoner of war.

Already more interesting than the other beefcakes!

Mitchell hadn’t had enough, so he fought in the Korean War. Owing to his enormousness, this lead directly to serving as an extra in Prisoner of War. Nearly autobiographical so far. This in turn lead to similar extra work in DeMille’s The Ten Commandments, where Mitchell manhandles Charleton Heston’s leg. As The Ten Commandments was the mighty impetus for the entire Italian sword-and-sandals saga, any appropriately-ripped fellow appearing therein had a more than good chance of headlining a lesser peplum. As most of his burly contemporaries, Mitchell (now definitely called that) served his time, from Fury of Achilles to Seven Slaves Against the World to Brennus, Enemy of Rome.

Now, most of the other bodybuilders were talentless sods who became lost in the wilderness following the collapse of the peplum bubble in 1965. While most could only look forward to a future of peddling off-brand Bowflexes, Mitchell stayed on with the Italians, successfully transitioning to Spaghetti Westerns, and onward from there. Ultimately, a cinema snob is as likely to recognize Mitchell from grand auteur works like Satyricon, or sexploitative things like “Porno-Erotic Western” (say whuh?!), as from his foray as Maciste, in Maciste in the Land of the Cyclops.

…Or ATLAS in the Land of the Cyclops, for every peplum needs a ridiculous amount of alternate titles. (Meaning Charles plays Atlas…Quite appropriate for a bodybuilder.)

Also in keeping with Italian definitions of what constitutes a film series, Whomever in the Land of the Cyclops has nothing to do with its precursors – just as well in the case of the godawful Maciste vs. the Headhunters. Merely grant this: “Maciste” the name is all denoting a series, apart from a broad genre similarity. To give the Maciste strongman a little more credence, we’d have to concede he is a Time Lord – for after Egypt and apparently the Inuits, he’s now with the Greeks.


Okay, seriously, why are all these movies so washed out?

Either way, Greece…With this move, Maciste is now in no way distinguishable from the Hercules movies, except perhaps in terms of artistic quality. Excepting the lushness Maciste in the Valley of the Kings acquired from Ben-Hur’s hand-me-downs, this series obviously struggled in Hercules’ colossal shadow. The poor surviving prints don’t help either. But after the absolute, Phil Tucker-level dreck that was Maciste vs. the Headhunters, Cyclops need merely showcase the bare fundamentals of coherent, semi-entertaining filmmaking to work. It achieves this.

Lots of credit to Mitchell, whose chiseled patrician profile suggests a much more thoughtful pile of brawn than any of these other pepla profligates. And not for nothing; the man was a teacher prior to his new career as dumb, lumbering muscle. In fact, the cast of Cyclops is pretty danged good for a mid-level sword-and-sandals flick, lifting it above the low-key non-spectacle of the recycled faux-Grecian sets. Earning her place as one of the genre’s MVPs is Chelo Alonso, doing a variation on her invaluable curvaceous vamping from Maciste in the Valley of the Kings.


I swear this is a color movie.

Alonso plays the requisite evil queen seductress harlot wench – but with a twist. Her Queen Capys, of Sado I think (uh oh, that is one loaded location!), is a descendant of the vile sorceress Circe – see Homer’s “Odyssey.” Seriously, go read that now, then come back and finish this. I’ll wait…

…

Good? Okay. In pure peplum fashion, Cyclops rather makes a hash of old mythology. In this spurious version, Circe was in cahoots with the Cyclops, both of whom suffered ignominious defeat at the hands of Ulysses. And now Circe’s descendants, meaning Capys, are under a curse to rid the world of Ulysses’ offspring, as revenge for his foul heroics so long ago.

The curse element makes Capys a more nuanced character than most…or at least it would, if the genre had any capacity whatsoever for character subtlety. It does not, but Alonso gives it the old college try. For Capys is, ostensibly, not merely a cruel, warmongering bitch like all the other femme fatales of the genre (though she is that too). She is trapped by the curse, fated to act out evil, a dilemma which leads to her Third Act character arc – which we’ll get to in due time.

So, descendants of Ulysses must be destroyed? Let me guess, that’ll be Maciste, right? Actually, no, since a “Sons of Ulysses” sort of thing would be a completely different peplum premise (seriously). Instead, an opening soldier attack upon a helpless village (a popular peplum ingredient) reveals Ulysses’ descendants are…just some dudes. Ones without a particular excess of heroism about them, seeing as they all die immediately. Leaving simply a baby, the last in the line (excepting its mother, bland blonde “other girl” Penope – Vira Silente), hunted down and marked for death by an evil sorceress queen.

So…it’s just the plot of Willow then, huh?

Yeah, pretty much. Only instead of Warwick Davis, this lucky infant winds up in the strong yet gentle hands of mighty Maciste [fanfare!].


Shortly post-adoption, Maciste learns about the entire plot: How Capys’ murderous forces are enslaving the women from nearby kingdoms, must be defeated, all that jazz. Maciste entrusts the child to the less capable hands of a soothsaying shepherd with “expendable” on his forehead, as he (Maciste) journeys for Sado. Nice and simple. Too simple, in fact, for a common thread in these pepla is that their central strongman could easily best the baddies in no time flat using sheer brute strength, as long as you point him in the right direction. Indeed, that appears to be the direction Maciste is headed in, waylaid only by the occasional Feat of Strength detour. Most pepla would create a lame-ass stalling device, like Hercules Unchained’s Waters of Forgetfulness or Maciste in the Valley of the Kings’ Necklace…of Forgetfulness.

But Maciste in the Land of the Cyclops has that baby! That gives director Antonio Leonviola the freedom to use Maciste freely in Sado, smashing soldier skulls left and right. Then they can simply announce that Capys has discovered the child’s whereabouts, and Maciste’ll hafta drop everything and rush back out to the prelapsarian wilderness to rescue it.

This Maciste does, outpacing Capys’ henchmen by lifting a fuckoff big rock and throwing it at ‘em. Which lets us check “hurl a big ass boulder” off of the necessary scenes.


Then Maciste happens upon the shepherd (and baby), and redirects him to hide in a new cave, thus postponing his inevitable slaughter. This done, it’s back to business as Maciste can return to Sado and resume toppling.

That wasn’t enough time killed, not with the efficacy of this particular Maciste (as opposed to his Lebowskian uselessness in Maciste vs. the Headhunters). Let the genuine stalling begin! Wandering back from whence he came, Maciste oh so randomly stumbles upon a grotto of giggling, inane vestal virgins. The oft-clothesless pepla regularly suggest at proto-softcore pornography, but no more so than here. Maciste is distracted by this sudden A-bomb of femininity, allowing some mooks to capture him with ease. Too much each, in fact. And the main mook is a mulatto, which in 1960s Italians terms lets us know he is a detestable villain, and to be abhorred. They do not handle race delicately.

(Random aside: Mitchell actually performs a “pec dance” here, completely playing into stereotype.)

The upswing of this turnabout is that Maciste is lashed to ropes, and brought to the palace of some effeminate, tittering fop. (Name?) The fop orders Maciste placed in a sword-and-sandals version of a James Bond death trap: Maciste engaging the fop’s slaves in a two-way tug o’ war, all over a lion pit artfully edited in. One suspects the two-way tug o’ war was a Gordon Mitchel Feat of Strength Special. Such a set-up is awkward and narratively arbitrary, though.


Even with Maciste’s inevitable victory, it changes nothing. Filler! Maciste remains prisoner, but now of Capys rather than Vaguely-Named Fop. So begins the de rigeur seduction section. Such would be out of character for this take-charge Maciste, which is where Capys’ conflict comes into play. Maciste is a good-hearted enough clod, he hopes to turn Capys if there’s even the slightest possibility. Yes indeed, all it takes is Maciste’s man-lovin’, and Capys does turn to good! No comment on the potentially sexist implications.


But with Capys’ promotion from villainess to good girl, that leaves a vacancy which needs to be filled (not that Maciste isn’t trying his damnedest to fill vacancies hither and thither). Enter Capys’ murder-crazed commander, whose name I never caught in the garbled dialogue, but process of elimination suggests he is Sirone (Aldo Bufi Landi). Sirone has no motive for continuing Capys’ “good” work, to expend all his resources in trying to locate and murder a newborn, but…there wouldn’t be a movie otherwise.

So while Maciste relaxes with Capys, all heroism slowly sapping out of him like so much…well, you know…while all that is going on, Sirone sabotages the wine. It’s the Herbs of Truthfulness, this is, and it renders Maciste as intellectually vacant as Hercules. He flat out tells Simone where the child is, distracted all the while by a belly dance which is going on simply because formula dictates a belly dance happen at some point.

Sirone goes out and nabs the baby. Finally the shepherd’s death comes.

Luckily for most Zeus-fearing people, Sirone doesn’t simply crush the toddler like an overripe grape right then and there. There’s a right way and a wrong way to murder an infant. The right way involves newborn-smuggling over to the Island of the Cyclops. Oh, right, it’s called Land of the Cyclops, so I guess that title would justify at some point. So, yeah, that kid’s Cyclops chow now.

Maciste waste no time in chasing down Sirone, except for a brief respite to wrestle an oily, glistening henchman in the moonlight. Check that one off the list. Then it’s off to the ships with Capys, to chase down Sirone’s luxury slave vessel in one of the slowest, least exciting boat chases I’ve ever seen. In fact, it’s so boring, Capys’ slaves fall right off to sleep. This is, relatively speaking, a more natural chance for a Feat of Strength. Maciste heroically hurls the unconscious slaves overboard, and takes to the oars himself. Sirone doesn’t stand a chance!


And bless Maciste, that superhuman demigod, with his strength the ship travels fast enough to – Nope, Sirone has just tossed that baby into the Cyclops pit anyway. It’s not eaten yet, though. Which leaves enough time for some extra deaths in advance. Sirone murders Capys, because that’s the reward reserved for all reconstituted former villains. Maciste murders Sirone. Then he leaps into the pit, gracefully lobs the baby up to safety, and steels to face…


Knowing Italy, that’s probably not a special effect.

Actually, no, it’s pretty cheap. Good thing this inadvertent black and white masks the flaws.

Maciste murders the Cyclops.

Not much more to say here. Pretty generic. Told well enough, but without distinction. Gordon Mitchell makes for a surprisingly engaging, competent he-man, and Chelo Alonso is as good as ever. Overall, a minor entry in the peplum cycle, but…eh, whatever…


RELATED POSTS
• The Silent Maciste Franchise (1914 - 1927)
• No. 1 Maciste in the Valley of the Kings (1960)
• No. 2 Maciste vs. the Headhunters (1960)
• No. 6 Maciste, the Strongest Man in the World (1961)
• No. 7 Maciste Against Hercules in the Vale of Woe (1961)
• Nos. 8 - 20 (1962 - 1964)
• No. 21 Maciste vs. the Mongols (1963)
• No. 22 Maciste in Genghis Khan's Hell (1964)
• No. 23 Maciste and the Queen of Samar (1964)
• No. 24 Hercules, Samson, Maciste and Ursus (1964)