This Maciste installment is consciously goofy, occasionally macabre, and has beautiful landscapes and lowbrow quirkiness. This movie's cheerful goofiness was usual in the Italian Z genre cinema. It boosted not only such Z Peplums, but also westerns, horrors, etc., and if in some movies it's wry, in others it's simply unnerving and shameless. Here, it could of been used for comedy instead of laughable phoniness.
The degree of popularity the Maciste series had once pertains to the sociology of taste. It's a fact to be accounted for in sociological terms. Being at once so shamelessly silly and lively ingratiated it to certain audiences, and there are people for whom this suffices, is enough; similarly, some '60s westerns were no revisionist enterprises, but displays of lowbrow goofiness, disheartening to some but cheered by a naturally forgetful crowd, so that they have been sentenced to oblivion or disrepute by the very nature of their ephemeral breakthrough, the kind of grateful audience they had is always absolutely forgetful, yet movies are made for them too.
The direction has ease, perhaps by the very shamelessness of the job, which led to dis-inhibition, the script is better than the players, who are appalling. There could of been occasions for chilling weirdness and sensational appeal, like the village of the headhunters and then the ruined castle with the imprisoned king. It seems that terrorism isn't enough, and the headhunters' chief still needs political recognition from the old prisoner.
The cast seems cheerful and insouciant. The characters are islanders, the girls wear swimsuits, there are totems and painted fighters whose leader craves for political recognition, and the princess' tent has bright ornaments; the fights look wimpy, despite the few graphic quirks and macabre effects like the impaled heads in the warriors' village and the mummies in the ruined castle, that could of been rescued from the joyful silliness, but have been merely added, piled in '30s fashion. The insouciant goofiness may be epitomized in the ritual dance belonging to the wedding celebration.
The landscapes, yet, are beautiful, and worthy of a smarter movie.
The acting, if it can be termed that, is crassly bad, though the princess is awesomely cute and even has a sword-fight scene; she has a carefree behavior and an occasional consenting air which are delightful; but the whole cast seems merrily indifferent to the requirements of the script, and this can seem amusing, or disheartening, if one finds self-complacent, placid silliness, offensive.
The degree of popularity the Maciste series had once pertains to the sociology of taste. It's a fact to be accounted for in sociological terms. Being at once so shamelessly silly and lively ingratiated it to certain audiences, and there are people for whom this suffices, is enough; similarly, some '60s westerns were no revisionist enterprises, but displays of lowbrow goofiness, disheartening to some but cheered by a naturally forgetful crowd, so that they have been sentenced to oblivion or disrepute by the very nature of their ephemeral breakthrough, the kind of grateful audience they had is always absolutely forgetful, yet movies are made for them too.
The direction has ease, perhaps by the very shamelessness of the job, which led to dis-inhibition, the script is better than the players, who are appalling. There could of been occasions for chilling weirdness and sensational appeal, like the village of the headhunters and then the ruined castle with the imprisoned king. It seems that terrorism isn't enough, and the headhunters' chief still needs political recognition from the old prisoner.
The cast seems cheerful and insouciant. The characters are islanders, the girls wear swimsuits, there are totems and painted fighters whose leader craves for political recognition, and the princess' tent has bright ornaments; the fights look wimpy, despite the few graphic quirks and macabre effects like the impaled heads in the warriors' village and the mummies in the ruined castle, that could of been rescued from the joyful silliness, but have been merely added, piled in '30s fashion. The insouciant goofiness may be epitomized in the ritual dance belonging to the wedding celebration.
The landscapes, yet, are beautiful, and worthy of a smarter movie.
The acting, if it can be termed that, is crassly bad, though the princess is awesomely cute and even has a sword-fight scene; she has a carefree behavior and an occasional consenting air which are delightful; but the whole cast seems merrily indifferent to the requirements of the script, and this can seem amusing, or disheartening, if one finds self-complacent, placid silliness, offensive.