COLOSSUS AND THE HEADHUNTERS (1963)

"Kirk Morris" as pseudo-Hercules Maciste. "Wha???"

Last night's dull movie-as-sleep-aid was COLOSSUS AND THE HEADHUNTERS (1963), one of the seemingly endless number of Italian muscleman fantasy epics released during the 1950's and 1960's to cash in on the unexpected international box office success of HERCULES (1958) and HERCULES UNCHAINED (1959) starring legendary bodybuilder Steve Reeves.

This one stars Kirk Morris (born Adriano Bellini) in the fourth of his six films as shirtless, oiled-up Herculean strongman Maciste (he is never referred to as "Colossus"), as our hero rescues refugees from an island devastated by a volcanic explosion, only to immediately encounter a land in turmoil whose queen is being forced to marry the traitorous asshole who blinded her father and lusts for both her and the throne. Needless to say, our beefy protagonist lends his burly aid to the queen and her people, but the usurper asshole has aligned himself with the local tribe of bloodthirsty headhunters, so saving the day will put Maciste to the test. As dubbed Pastaland tits 'n' togas flicks go, this one's pretty tepid, and hero Maciste is as bland as dishwater, possessing no discernibly interesting traits such as drunkenness, an unbridled libido, or even much by way of personality. In short, he's a cookie cutter slab of beef with styled Frankie Avalon-style hair who runs around in a short skirt and a primitive pair of Ugg boots.

This film is perhaps best known in the U.S. for the truncated version seen on MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 3000 back in 1994, and that version, while still dull, at least had the decency to be mercifully short. The full-length iteration moves like a Brontosaurus on a cocktail of Gabapentin and Doxepin — trust me on that one — and features only the thinnest of plots, punctuated by lots of aimless seafaring, sword-wielding combatants clashing and running around, women in super-tight and/or skimpy outfits, bad dubbing, and one of the worst dance sequences ever committed to film.

 

 Bob Fosse rolls over in his grave.

 

In a bid to add more "production values," aka tits and ass, nearly every movie in this genre at some point features a dance number that brings the proceedings to a screeching halt, and COLOSSUS AND THE HEADHUNTERS subjects us to a truly dire example of the trope. I cannot believe that the actress who performs the film's dance sequence was an actual dancer, as her movements appear to have been made up on the spot, literally whatever she could think to do, and her terpsichorean skills are about on par with those of a six-year-old who just donned her first Danskin. We're talking hopping around on her tippy-toes — nothing resembling trained en pointe — falling to the floor and sticking a leg up in the air, gesturing with her shoulders as though trying to spontaneously sprout wings, and shaking like she's experiencing a seizure, all while maintaining the most un-emotive of facial expressions. It's an embarrassing display that will make you feel bad for her at first, but it overstays its welcome by being three minutes long and by its end you want to hurl an unopened can of corned beef hash at her skull. And, as previously stated, it stops the story dead.

 

In other words, this movie offers absolutely nothing not seen before elsewhere and done to more entertaining effect. If you're suffering a night of insomnia, as many of us do, COLOSSUS AND THE HEADHUNTERS is available on YouTube in a grainy print. That print lends the film a snuff film aesthetic that only heightens its cheesiness, but be ready to doze before the first half hour is over.

 

Poster for the U.S. theatrical release.