Notable now mainly as an early work by Sergio Leone, this ambitious entry in the sword-and-sandal genre has the kind of long, detailed story-line rarely seen in productions of this sort, and it's unencumbered by the religious "piety" which clings to, say, "The Revolt of the Slaves." If anything, "Colossus" may be a tad too ambitious, since the second half of its two-hours-plus running time could use a bit of trimming.
Worth noting are the scenes involving the head of the giant statue which is of hollow construction. Watching Rory Calhoun climbing out the ear of the statue and then engaging in a sword fight on the statue's shoulder is one of those moments for which movies were invented. (Yes, I said Rory Calhoun, and he's as out of place here as you might imagine. Stephen Boyd or John Derek, Leone's original choice, would have done better jobs.)
Also worth noting is the movie's apparent motto of: "Shirts off, chains on." Rarely have so many muscular men been subjected to such a variety of bondage and torture, beginning with the pre-title sequence in which a bare-chested, spreadeagled Georges Marchal, (who was born for this kind of role,) is rescued from a prison-camp. Later, he's placed inside a metal bell which is repeatedly struck with a hammer while two of his colleagues -- stretched out on horizontal slabs -- have caustic fluids dripped onto their bare torsos. And then there are the prisoners in the arena who are dragged behind chariots or suspended by their wrists over a lion-pit. (About the only other movie which has such a high quotient of men writhing in pain in MGM's 1954 "Prisoner of War.")
Today's special effects could make the Colossus and its eventual fate even more impressive, but alas, movies such as this just aren't made anymore.
Worth noting are the scenes involving the head of the giant statue which is of hollow construction. Watching Rory Calhoun climbing out the ear of the statue and then engaging in a sword fight on the statue's shoulder is one of those moments for which movies were invented. (Yes, I said Rory Calhoun, and he's as out of place here as you might imagine. Stephen Boyd or John Derek, Leone's original choice, would have done better jobs.)
Also worth noting is the movie's apparent motto of: "Shirts off, chains on." Rarely have so many muscular men been subjected to such a variety of bondage and torture, beginning with the pre-title sequence in which a bare-chested, spreadeagled Georges Marchal, (who was born for this kind of role,) is rescued from a prison-camp. Later, he's placed inside a metal bell which is repeatedly struck with a hammer while two of his colleagues -- stretched out on horizontal slabs -- have caustic fluids dripped onto their bare torsos. And then there are the prisoners in the arena who are dragged behind chariots or suspended by their wrists over a lion-pit. (About the only other movie which has such a high quotient of men writhing in pain in MGM's 1954 "Prisoner of War.")
Today's special effects could make the Colossus and its eventual fate even more impressive, but alas, movies such as this just aren't made anymore.