Warlords of Atlantis (1978)

          Whereas their previous fantasy-film collaborations were UK/US coproductions, the final ridiculous adventure flick directed by Kevin Connor and starring Doug McClure was financed and produced entirely by British entities. Although it’s less widely seen than the previous Connor/McClure movies, Warlords of Atlantis—sometimes known as Warlords of the Deep—is perhaps the most absurdly enjoyable (or enjoyably absurd) film in the whole cycle. Featuring hilariously silly special effects, a gleefully goofy storyline, and some of the most outlandish flourishes in the whole Connor/McClure oeuvre, Warlords of Atlantis is pure Saturday-matinee kitsch. That it’s quite awful when viewed from any rational perspective is beside the point; no kid ever watched an installment of, say, Buck Rogers expecting an edifying experience. Moreover, Warlords of Atlantis is probably the most thoroughly ’70s picture in the cycle, thanks to a head-trip sequence as well as costuming with influences from disco and glam rock. Think Jules Verne crossed with a Yes album cover, and you’re on the right track.

          The story is the usual turn-of-the-century hokum. Inventor Greg (McClure) and scientist Charles (Peter Glimore) venture onto the high seas and descend inside a diving bell, at which point they discover a pathway to the underground kingdom of Atlantis. More specifically, a giant octopus captures the heroes and their crew, dragging them to Atlantis so they can serve local inhabitants as slaves. Naturally, the locals are aliens from another world planning global conquest, and, of course, they’ve spent centuries kidnapping humans and altering the humans’ bodies by installing gills. While Greg rallies slaves for the inevitable revolution against extraterrestrial oppressors, Charles gets strapped into a super-powered helmet that gives him visions of the future because the Atlaneans think his superior intellect makes him an ideal coconspirator in their evil schemes.

          All of this stuff is eventful and zippy, though it’s even dumber than it sounds in this brisk synopsis. What gives Warlords of Atlantis a special kick are the out-there details. The faceless guards serving the Atlaneans look like refugees from a Mad Max theme night at a bondage club; the Altantean king’s outfit suggests a glam-rock bathing costume; and Cyd Charisse, of all people, plays the Atlantean queen. Yet even with all of this nonsense going on, Warlords of Atlantis is all about that gigantic octopus, rendered by sketchy miniature work as well as a full-size head and tentacles that are (barely) animated through puppetry or radio control or some other low-tech methodology. If watching a giant octopus attack a boat in full view of the camera doesn’t stimulate your pleasure centers, your inner child thrills to different types of spectacle than mine does.

Warlords of Atlantis: FUNKY

From Beyond the Grave (1974)

          Amicus Productions’ long series of horror-anthology flicks ended anticlimactically with From Beyond the Grave, which comprises a quartet of uninspired stories connected by visits to a mysterious shop selling haunted antiques. Rightfully regarded as a second-rate competitor to Hammer Films, Amicus pulled from the same talent pool as Hammer—that’s Peter Cushing playing the ghoulish proprietor of the antique shop—but Amicus’ pictures rarely achieved the same level of gonzo energy as the best Hammer flicks. From Beyond the Grave seems particularly enervated, even by Amicus’ low standards; the script is dull, the performances are stiff, and the shocks are trite.

          Each story begins when a character buys a curio from Cushing’s musty shop, and the customers who try to swindle Cushing seal their fates. In the first story, “The Gatecrasher,” a collector (David Warner) purchases a mirror haunted by a spirit who needs flesh for sustenance, so the collector kills women as a means of bringing the spirit back to life. The usually lively Warner gives a numbingly sober performance in this by-the-numbers morality tale. The most laborious story, “An Act of Kindness,” features a repressed businessman (Ian Bannen) lying to impress a friendly street peddler (Donald Pleasence), then savoring the way the peddler treats him like royalty. The businessman eventually seduces the peddler’s strange daughter (Angela Pleasence), leading to a bloody turn of events. “An Act of Kindness” is confusing and contrived, though it’s a kick to see eccentric character actor Pleasence playing scenes with his real-life lookalike daughter.

          The mood of From Beyond the Grave lightens for “The Elemental,” which concerns a husband and wife hiring a dotty psychic (Margaret Leighton) to dispatch a mischievous spirit, but after a mildly amusing climax filled with flying objects and Leighton’s comic flamboyance, the tale turns needlessly dark. In the final story, “The Door,” a writer (Ian Ogilvy) buys a door that provides a gateway to the realm of an undead murderer; although this story features some interesting images, like that of the door bleeding when it’s struck by an axe, “The Door” feels redundant after “The Gatecrasher.”

          Hardcore Brit-horror fans will undoubtedly find enjoyable distractions in the ironic plot twists and (mild) gore; furthermore, director Kevin Connor presents the picture with a palatable sort of workmanlike competence, and the cast, which also includes Lesley-Anne Down in a decorative role, is solid. Still, From Beyond the Grave is more stultifying than horrifying. (Available at WarnerArchive.com)

From Beyond the Grave: FUNKY