Ursus/The Mighty Ursus/Ursus, Son of Hercules (1961)

To be without you is no longer to live, Ursus!’

Finding that his intended bride has disappeared while he has been off fighting, a war hero sets out on a mission to find her. It turns out that she has been kidnapped by a sinister cult who practice virgin sacrifice, and he’ll need all of his mighty strength to defeat them…

Unlike the other leading musclemen of the era, Ursus did not have a biblical or mythological origin but was an invention of Polish writer Henryk Sienkiewicz for his 1896 novel ‘Quo Vadis.’ This tale of Ancient Rome dealt with a young aristocrat who falls in love with a barbarian slave, who comes with a bodyguard, courtesy of her Royal lineage. This hardman is Ursus, played in the 1951 film version by ex-world heavyweight boxing contender Buddy Baer. This big-budget Hollywood production was shot mainly on the soundstages of the Cinecitta Studios, eight miles outside Rome. Sergio Leone worked on it as a Second Unit director early in his career.

After the international success enjoyed by Steve Reeves as ‘Hercules’ (1958), follow up films featuring Samson, Goliath and Maciste weren’t enough to sate the Italian public’s thirst for sword and spectacle. Enter Ursus for a series of nine features, although he barely registered in the penultimate entry ‘Ercole, Sansone, Maciste e Ursus gli invincible/Samson and the Mighty Challenge’ (1964). I guess he never really could compete with Hercules, Maciste or Samson.

This initial entry in the series finds him flying solo, though, under the direction of Carlo Campogalliani and in the person of American bodybuilder Ed Fury (real name Edmund Holovchik). As we join the action, Fury has just returned from the wars where he has distinguished himself as a mighty warrior. A return to civilian life means marriage to sweetheart Attea (Moira Orfei), but things go south immediately. On the way, he runs into Exposition Lady, in the delightful form of a blind shepherdess, Doreide (María Luisa Merlo).

It turns out that Orfei disappeared without trace two years previously on the night that her father was murdered. Merlo overheard two strangers plotting the crime while serving in the house of her master, Setas (Luis Prendes) and even managed to grab a medallion that one of them dropped accidentally. If we have any doubt of Prendes’ villainous credentials, it turns out that Merlo is blind because he ordered her punished for letting his sheep wander! Right on cue, up rides the slimeball and his flunkeys, looking to cause trouble.

Exhibiting the first example of the stellar judgement he shows throughout the film, Fury blurts out everything he’s just been told, sending himself and Merlo right to the top of Prendes’ kill list. Going on the run, the couple discovers that Orfei was kidnapped by the cult of Ziest, who live on a remote island somewhere. Merlo warns Fury not to trust merchant Kymos (Mario Scaccia), who may have a line on its location but the first thing the lunkhead does is accept a drink from the trader’s Girl Friday, Magali (Cristina Gaioni). Of course, it turns out to be drugged, and he’s captured.

Eventually, Fury and Merlo escape and, in another great decision, the muscleman accepts Gaioni’s offer to take them to the island. Of course, she betrays them. In the resulting skirmish, she is killed, and they end up on the island anyway, accompanied by Prendes. He’s part of the cult, of course, which is run by high priest Mok (Rafael Luis Calvo) with the help of a mysterious Queen (no prizes for guessing her identity).

Although the film ticks off too many of the familiar Peplum boxes to create an identity of its own, it should be evident from the summary above that Giuliano Carnimeo and Sergio Sollima’s screenplay rarely stops to take a breath. Director Campogalliani also keeps the action coming thick and fast, even if some of the fight choreography is not very well-executed. Fury doesn’t have a great deal of acting range, but an impressive physique and a friendly presence are enough in these circumstances. Adding to both spectacle and production value are leftover sets from Nicholas Ray’s MGM picture ‘King of Kings’ (1961).

In time-honoured Peplum tradition, Fury puts in some time pushing that big wheel in the diamond mine and is tempted by the wiles of the Evil Queen. He also leads a revolt of fellow slaves, who have been waiting around all this time for him to turn up. During the lengthy climax, audiences may wince at the sight of Fury’s stunt double being tossed around by a real-life bull in the arena. Presumably, this was José Balbuena (listed as ‘Bullfighter’ in the cast list), and he deserves enormous credit for what looks like highly hazardous duty, especially given the probable absence of any significant Health and Safety procedures.

Elsewhere it’s very much business as usual. The principal movers in the tale aren’t characters so much as all-too-familiar archetypes with no effort made to grant them any shading or personality. Orfei brings a little punch to the proceedings, although she doesn’t get nearly enough screen time, and there’s an early appearance from Soledad Miranda. She later starred in films for cult director Jess Franco in which she displayed a striking screen presence before her premature death at the age of 27 in a car accident.

The film initially played with the more fantasy-orientated ‘Jack the Giant Killer’ (1962) on American screens and, almost inevitably, became part of the ‘Sons of Hercules’ package on syndicated television. Fury played Ursus a couple of more times in the series but returned to America in the mid-1960s when the Peplum bubble burst. His subsequent screen career was a slow procession of bit parts playing cops, mercenaries and guards on network TV shows, including ‘Star Trek’ and ‘Mission: Impossible.’

By the numbers Peplum; fast-paced but rather forgettable.

2 thoughts on “Ursus/The Mighty Ursus/Ursus, Son of Hercules (1961)

  1. Ursus in the Valley of the Lions/Ursus nella valle dei leoni (1961) – Mark David Welsh

  2. Devil in the Brain/Il diavolo nel cervello (1972) – Mark David Welsh

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