THE COLOSSUS OF NEW YORK (1958)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *good*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *drama*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *cosmological, psychological*

Everyone knows that the novel FRANKENSTEIN was written by a female creator. But of the dozens and dozens of cinema-raconteurs who have worked behind-the-scenes on either (1) adaptations, strong or loose, of the original story, or (2) original stories built around the book's tropes-- how many of those raconteurs were female? 

Of course, even when one comes across one such female important to the forging of a given cinema-story, the odds are that she was probably collaborating with men. In the case of THE COLOSSUS OF NEW YORK, producer William Alland-- a very well-traveled name in 1950s SF-films-- arranged a deal with Paramount to deliver two inexpensive features, COLOSSUS and THE SPACE CHILDREN. Alland presumably hired director Eugene Lourie on the strength of his money-making 1953 effort THE BEAST FROM 20,000 FATHOMS-- Lourie's only SF-work up to to that time. The original story-idea for COLOSSUS was supplied by one Willis Goldbeck, who had been writing for the movies since the 1920s, but who in that time had only completed scripts on two metaphenomenal films: 1924's PETER PAN and 1932's FREAKS. Any or all of them might have supplied the basic idea for a modern Frankenstein in the form of a cyborg with a brain-transfer. However, I tend to think the main credit for the finished form of COLOSSUS should go to Thelma Schnee, nee Moss, the screenwriter of record.

 Thelma Schnee seems to have been loosely involved in the Actors' Studio in the 1940s when she met and married Paul Finder Moss, who had a very small number of writing and producing credits until that point. Thelma Moss herself had a similar limited career writing and acting in the 1950s, but her husband died of cancer in 1954, leaving her alone with a small daughter. This personal history would be reflected in the script for COLOSSUS, though I'm sure Moss was also indebted to other examples of greater sophistication in science-fiction scripts during that decade.

COLOSSUS, for instance, shares with many other 1950s SF-films a strong but subtle attention to layering the relationships of the six principal characters. Three characters provide a picture of domestic bliss: renowned scientist Jerry Spenser (Ross Martin), his loving wife Anne (Mala Powers), and his little son Billy (Charles Herbert). Looking on are Jerry's scientist-father William (Otto Kruger), his brother Henry (John Baragrey), and John (Robert Hutton), a fourth scientist who's really just there for other people to talk at. Moss's script swiftly establishes that for Father William, Jerry hung the moon, while Brother Henry envies Jerry's great fame, gained from aiding humanitarian causes with science. Ironically, though, Jerry's love for his son Billy spells the scientist's doom. While trying to retrieve a lost toy of Billy's, Jerry inadvertently steps in front of a truck and instantly dies.

 But death is no impediment to Father William, desperate to bring back his pride and joy. Before his descent into monster-making, William outlines to John his conviction that the brain alone is the measure of man, while John (in the actor's only scene of consequence) argues that the human spirit is the true measure. So William harvests Dead Jerry's brain. Then he pressures Henry-- who's started cozying up to Anne, mere months after her husband's death-- to build a robot body in which to house Jerry's brain. William wants Jerry to go on creating scientific miracles for the good of mankind-- and for the ego of his proud papa. Some critics have wondered why the body of the Colossus is so butt-ugly. But William, being focused on the brain, doesn't care what the cyborg looks like-- while Henry of the Envy has every reason to want to make the new version of his brother look like a freak. Henry also installs a shut-off switch beneath one of the Colossus's armpits, which seems an odd place-- though even that choice comes in handy at the film's conclusion.   

For some time, the Colossus is too staggered by his new existence to do anything but do what Papa tells him. A further complication is that with his brain separated from his body, the Colossus develops a variety of psychic powers. He foretells the collision of two ships at sea, and both William and Henry are astounded when the event takes place. Eventually he defies his father and leaves the laboratory, making his way to the graveyard where his body lies buried (which I guess must be just next door). By chance Anne and Billy are at the gravesite too, and the Colossus speaks alone with Billy, convincing the boy that he's a "good giant." Anne sees the "good giant" from afar and panics, not realizing that the Colossus dwells beneath her family home. 

 Unfortunately for Henry, the Colossus is watching when Henry makes another move on Anne. This leads the not-so-good giant to develop new powers out of his suppressed rage. First, the Colossus mentally dominates his father, forcing Willaim to betray Henry. Then, when he tracks down Henry, the Colossus zaps him with some sort of irradiating gaze-- probably patterned by Alland after the disintegration-gaze shown in 1951's THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL. Moss's script does not explain this killer look, though since the victims of the gaze do NOT disintegrate when stricken, possibly Moss just meant to suggest that the monster was causing the targets' bodies to shut down, since we never see the death-rays used on anything non-living.           

In due time, Anne learns the truth about the caped monster, not least because the Colossus tells Billy to call him "daddy." But by that time, the Colossus has renounced all of his past desires for humanitarian effort, thus justifying John's warnings about brains divorced from human spirit/feeling. When the family of the late Jerry Spenser attends an event at the UN, the Colossus shows up, demonstrating his total lack for social control by killing several people. But Billy thinks he can help his friend the good giant and runs to him. This selfless action shocks the Colossus back to his senses, and he realizes he must die again. He tells his son to switch him off and the boy innocently does so, thus completing the cycle in which he indirectly brought about his father's original demise.

On a minor note, Moss only worked on one other industry credit before seeking a new career, gaining a PHD in psychology and becoming an advocate of parapsychology in the 1970s. Her interest may or may not have been kindled by her husband's demise in 1954, but one may fairly say that by the time she completed the screenplay for COLOSSUS, her interest had become more than minor. Ironically, though most psychic studies emphasize how such ESP powers reveal the hidden capacities of human beings, COLOSSUS makes the point that they can be the devil's instruments if used without the grace of a human spirit.