Clash of the Titans

Clash of the Titans appears to be a recurring bellwether for technological change within the movies. The 1981 version, directed by Desmond Davis with the mind-boggling cast of Laurence Olivier, Harry Hamlin and Ursula Andress, was sold on the stop motion animation of Ray Harryhausen, which appeared archaic to many after the first two Star Wars pictures had revealed George Lucas’ intentions. But at least those intentions were noble, which is difficult to say for Louis Leterrier’s remake, which has undergone late and ineffectual conversion to 3D after the phenomenal success of Avatar.

James Cameron, in all his pigheaded brilliance, made a true 3D movie: conceived, shot and post-produced for that format. Leterrier shot in regulation 2D and then had his footage converted – quickly and shoddily – as the release date loomed; apocryphal tales of vast Indian armies of effects compositors chomping through every frame have preceded the movie. Whoever did the work, it’s poor to say the least, even a distraction. Too often the 3D is wonky and simplistic. Instead of immersing you in a fantastic world of warriors, deities and mythical creatures, it suspends your belief.

Being in 3D allows the ticket price to be increased, which is exactly the kind of despotic behaviour that Clash of the Titans is morally opposed to. The storyline has the people of the ancient Greek land of Argos rebelling against the gods, who are led by Zeus (Liam Neeson), whose own son, Perseus (Sam Worthington), is a demi-god living amongst the humans. Zeus allowed his brother, Hades (Ralph Fiennes), to punish Argos by unleashing the destructive Kraken upon them, although Hades has his own plans for what should transpire.

It is up to Perseus and his band, including the initially skeptical Draco (Mads Mikkelsen), to fight their way through various challenges, including the likes of Medusa (Natalia Vodianova), to save Argos. If that sounds like the flat, schematic storyline of a video game, the film often plays the same way. Worthington, at such an early point in his career, has ground the emotional subtlety out of his performances. He is fierce, unforgiving and uninterested in compromise or shades of grey. With his armour and sword, he sallies forth into battle and looks convincing as he slays digital creatures; the interior voice that could be sensed in Somersault has been sacrificed at the altar of machismo.

The supporting cast gives varying performances, although the film appears to believe that broad British theatrical acting, which departed with Olivier and John Gielgud, is the appropriate way to play a god. Only Fiennes, who perhaps has too many villains to his name now, finds something interesting to stud his work with. The underlying problem is that Greek mythology, also seen recently in Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief, is never translated beyond the broadest of outlines. These gods are little more than deep voices and random chest puffing. Whether it’s 2D or 3D, they bring little depth, or surprise, to the movies.