Hercules and the Captive Women (1961) – Review

This 1961 sword-and-sandal spectacular is less “epic myth” and more “myth-adjacent fever dream,” a film that dares to ask, “What if Greek mythology had no rules, fewer shirts, and absolutely wild Atlantis cosplay?” Complete with foam boulders, clunky dialogue, and glow-in-the-dark magic rocks.

The film opens with the Greek states being affected by strange atmospheric events and creepy visions that Androcles (Ettore Manni), King of Thebes, wants to investigate, but none of the other Greek leaders seem all that interested in doing so, as they have grown tired of paying for wars that Androcles starts. Worse is the fact that legendary demi-god Hercules (Reg Park) also refuses to be dragged off another crazy adventure, stating that he’d rather relax at home with his wife Deianira (Luciana Angiolillo) and his son Hylas (Luciano Marin), making him the classic reluctant hero. 

Hercules, the original Inaction Figure.

After more or less stating “I’m just here to take a nap,” Hercules soon finds himself shanghaied by the king, aided by Hylas, who drugs his father and earns the title of “Worst Son of the Year,” and he wakes up aboard a boat manned by ex-slaves and thieves. He does have one “friend” in the form of his faithful dwarf sidekick Timoteo (Salvatore Furnari), but this guy is more comic relief than support when it comes to fighting. The following high-seas adventure quickly runs into some trouble when the entire crew mutinies, while Hercules almost sleeps through it. Way to keep the eye on the ball, Herc. But our hero wakes up in time to drag the ship back to shore and maroon the mutineers. 

“Are you pulling my chain?”

Before you can say “S.S. Minnow,” a storm brews and their tiny ship is tossed. Androcles falls overboard and is presumed lost at sea, and come morning, Hercules finds himself adrift on a piece of wreckage, still not knowing that all along his son Hylas had been aboard their ship the whole time, and soon comes ashore on a mist-shrouded island, where he sees a woman encased in stone as a sacrifice to the sea god Proteus. Now, it’s here I should point out that while there are “captive women” in this outing, as the American title suggests, they’re not exactly central to the plot. Which is about creating an invincible army of black-uniformed blond supermen to take over the world. The Italian release of this film was called Hercules and the Conquest of Atlantis, which was a more accurate title.

Or, how about Hercules and the Encased Women?

This leads to the lost continent of Atlantis, because, surprise, surprise, the woman he rescued is Princess Ismene (Laura Efrikian), daughter of Antinea (Fay Spain), the Queen of Atlantis, and we quickly learn that Atlantis is not just a lost continent but completely bananas as well. Turns out there is a prophecy that if Ismene is not killed, Atlantis and its population will be destroyed. The death of Proteus has already stripped Atlantis of its protective fog that keeps it unseen by the outside world, so Ismene is recaptured and taken for execution. Luckily for her, this is when Hylas and Timoteo eventually show up and perform a well-orchestrated rescue, taking out numerous guards with sticks and stones. Needless to say, Ismene is nonplussed by the whole situation.

“Is my sole job to be a damsel in distress?”

Meanwhile, we learn that Queen Antinea might be the most fabulous evil queen ever, draped in sequins and power, and positively glowing with radioactive ambition. Her plan? Use a glowing stone made from the blood of Uranus to create an invincible army of black-uniformed blond supermen with which she plans to conquer the world. That’s bad enough, but she’s also turned Androcles into one of her mindless soldiers, sending him to kill Hercules. That will not stand! Determined to stop Antinea, Hercules and his allies rescue Ismene once again, and this leads to a climactic battle, in which Hercules destroys the source of Antinea’s power, causing Atlantis to collapse.

“Let’s go home, that ‘twas a silly place.”

Stray Observations:

• In the original Italian version, the character is actually Maciste, a recurring Italian strongman hero dating back to silent films. U.S. distributors routinely renamed Maciste “Hercules” because Americans have actually heard of Hercules.
• While drifting on the wreckage of their ship, Hercules has a vision of Androcles calling for help. I had no idea this was one of Hercules’ abilities. I don’t think even his dad, Zeus, had this psychic power.
• Hercules promises to return to the beautiful Antinea after he concludes his search for his friend Androcles, but he already has a loving wife waiting for him back home. Greek heroes tended to have feet of clay when it came to women.
• The dubbing in this film is hilarious. Hercules sounds like he’s trying to remember his grocery list while fighting, and Queen Antinea sounds like she learned English phonetically from a villainous parrot.
• Special effects alert: Atlantis gets destroyed in a wave of glitter, fire, smoke, crumbling sets, cool-looking models, and stock footage of volcanic eruptions. 

It’s hard to tell if Atlantis is sinking or just blowing up.

Let’s get one thing straight: if you came to this 1961 Italian peplum spectacle looking for mythical accuracy or even a coherent plot, you took a wrong turn at Mount Olympus. But if you’re here for shiny muscles, wild magic, mysterious islands, and enough camp to host a Boy Scout jamboree—welcome, my friend. Hercules and the Captive Women is exactly the kind of delightfully bonkers B-movie that belongs in a toga-twirling Hall of Fame. Directed by Vittorio Cottafavi, this bizarre blend of Greek myth, science fiction, and proto-feminist villainy elevates the film from generic pulp to something uniquely bizarre and occasionally inspired.

The beautiful face of Evil.

This was Reg Park’s debut as Hercules, and he is a more stoic and physically imposing presence than his predecessors, notably Steve Reeves. Though not a nuanced actor, Park’s sheer presence is enough to sell the role of a demigod. Park is so monumentally muscular that he makes the Colossus of Rhodes look like a stick figure. He grunts, flexes, and lifts giant stone doors like he’s cracking open a cold one. Acting range? Who needs it when you can toss guards like lawn darts? Let’s talk sidekicks. Hylas, son of Hercules, tags along as a secondary hunk, falling in love with Ismene, and to provide semi-useful sword work. He mostly serves as the one person Hercules doesn’t throw across the screen, and he somehow survives the entire film despite wandering off like a dim golden retriever in every scene. Hylas doesn’t even get to fight monsters, like his dad.

And by monsters, I mean a guy in a goofy suit.

Visually, the film is bursting with over-the-top colour and charmingly fake sets. Atlantis looks like it was designed by a 12-year-old with a box of crayons and a love of lava lamps, and I mean that as a compliment. It’s glorious, kitschy, and surreal in all the best ways. Director Vittorio Cottafavi, one of the more stylistically adventurous directors in the peplum arena, imbues the film with operatic flair and occasional bursts of visual poetry. His direction is far more imaginative than the script requires, which may be why Hercules and the Captive Women has had longer critical endurance than many of its contemporaries.

You can’t knock the film’s sets and costumes.

The action? Delightfully cheesy. Hercules wrestles guys in rubber suits, flips papier-mâché boulders like flapjacks, and generally grunts his way through villainous henchmen like he’s in a protein shake commercial from ancient Greece. Atlantis finally explodes in a finale that would make Ed Wood say, “That’s a bit much.” And sure, the dubbing is goofy, the dialogue is wooden, and some of the special effects might make you giggle more than gasp. But that’s part of the charm. This isn’t just a movie, it’s an event. You don’t just watch Hercules and the Captive Women, you experience it. You marvel at the absurdity. You question the logic. And you will wonder, “What exactly is going on?”

Who knew that the Greeks had cloning technology?

In conclusion, Hercules and the Captive Women is a perfect movie for those who enjoy their mythology served with a side of nonsense, and their heroes oiled up and mildly confused. Is it historically accurate? No. Is it coherent? Barely. But is it a glorious, sweaty, toga-wrapped time? Absolutely. For fans of camp, cheese, and chiselled chests, this one’s a mythical mess worth watching.