My favourite memory of visiting my grandmother was watching films on a Sunday afternoon. She always called them the pictures, drank cups of tea, and provided biscuits and orange squash. A sweet window of time where worries evaporated.
We enjoyed a wide selection. Black and white war movies, old comedies with fast dialogue. But I liked the fantasy movies from the sixties with stop motion animation. The kind where the creatures are physical objects walking and fighting in jerky but terrifying motions. I loved the skeletons in Jason and the Argonauts. Talos. The sword wielding Shiva in Sinbad the Sailor. They repeat them every Christmas, the greatest present of all.
The best picture was 'The Wild Journey of Odysseus'. The story was abridged of course. They had to fit Homer's epic tale into a ninety minute time frame. But so many classic tropes remained. Hollywood actors with thick beards and loincloths. A mighty cyclops. The seven headed Scylla. Laestrygonians spearing writhing sailors, plasticine blood dripping from their chests.
But for some reason the one never gets repeated. Perhaps the movie was too violent, and the Circe section too risqué. I dug around online every few months, but never found a copy.
Life moved along, until one day a ratty video turned up on eBay. My heart clenched when I saw Polyphemus on the ripped plastic. The price was not cheap, and neither was the video player. But three raps on the door from the postman confirmed every penny was worth it.
I ripped through the cardboard with shaking hands. My childhood grail appeared like a visitation from another planet. Like magic. A small note read ‘Sorry this isn't what you wanted.' I assumed was a comment on the ancient format, and slid in the video, still trembling.
The first glimpse proved the copy was a genuine. That ship on the ocean, leaving what I knew was Troy. A desaturated paradise unknown for thirty years. Then Odysseus spoke his first line of dialogue. The noise was far too deep and gruff to be another language. I thought it might be an issue with the soundtrack, but the music and effects were crystal clear.
I ejected and reinserted the tape six times over. The rumbling dialogue continued, a devil’s commentary over the Mediterranean. And what made no sense was that Circe stood on the ship's deck. She was not due for another forty minutes. Her eye shadow was too thick and green for Ancient Greece, and she spoke in the same garbled language.
The headaches started soon after.
I have been sick three times, and cannot move from the sofa. Odysseus met the Scylla before he met the Cyclops. Circe keeps looking at me. My plan is nonexistent, but I do not want to sleep. The credits will soon roll. Perhaps if I keep watching, his crew will get home safely for the first time in history.
Line: Talos.
