KINGS OF THE SUN a colorful, campy spectacle set in the world of the Mayans, arose and fell in 1963, 43 years before Mel Gibson unleashed Apocalypto. Along with grade-A ‘olden days’ epics like Spartacus and El Cid, the decade provided less-refined but still entertaining matinee fodder like The Long Ships, Genghis Khan and Taras Bulba. The star and director of the last mentioned, Yul Brynner and J. Lee Thompson, wrapped up that Cossack cavalry fave and plunged into this intertribal melee, filmed in Mexico on gorgeous beach locations near Mazatlán. It’s kicked off by an opener (narrated by James Coburn) done at the archeological marvel Chichén Itzá in the Yucatan. Alas, that’s where anything like authenticity begins and ends. Fear not, that’s when the goofy fun takes over. *

700 years before “Y.M.C.A.” was a hit

Ancient Meximerica, in the pre-cross & crossbow days of elaborate headgear and priest-blessed human sacrifice. Chased out of their Yucatan temple town by a warlike tribe (armed with “swords of metal“), newly anointed king ‘Balam’ (George Chakiris, pensive) leads his people across the water to land in a new home (what is now Texas) only to find understandable turf issues from the locals, led by ‘Black Eagle’ (Yul Brynner, strutting like a panther on steroids). Captured (but hardly subdued), Black Eagle wins favor from ‘Ixchel’ (Shirley Anne Field, with unexplained blue-eyes), who is inconveniently promised to Balam. Then the awkward suitors have to put aside their chick-feud when the bad boys from down south show up, led by Hunac Ceel (Leo Gordon in typical ferocious mode) and we finally get the big wipeout we’ve waited for.

Well, I’ll be a blue-eyed Mayan! From London…

Brynner, in studiously undraped jungle cat shape, delivers a committed performance, but he and everyone else are in an uphill fight with the script by James R. Webb (who fared much better that year with How The West Was Won) and the clunky costuming and makeup, which manages to look simultaneously elaborate and phony. Chakiris is out of his element (by centuries), Field is decorative but about as Mayan as Julie Andrews and poor Richard Basehart must’ve felt like he’d reached the base of a pyramid scheme. Yul does get the best/worst morsel with “And someday we will watch our babies lead buffalo around my their noses.” A line I’m saving for the right lady—and if she says “hey, that’s from Kings Of The Sun” I will propose (or just suggest mating) to her faster than you can say “Holy forced devotion, here come the Spaniards!” Language is a moot point in this movie, since somehow the Mayans and the First Nations folk of Yul’s tribe speak the same language (or ‘tongue’).

George thinking “This is not the America I like to be in”

The mass fracas at the finish is reasonably rowdy (would’ve loved it as a kid), and tries to out-singe Spartacus with the number of stuntmen leaping across fire barriers: people must’ve been hurt doing this. Joseph MacDonald’s cinematography covers the beaches, bods and battling to good effect and Elmer Bernstein unlimbers a properly ‘big show’ score; anyone familiar with the composer could listen and without seeing his name credited would say “Hey, that’s gotta be Elmer Bernstein.” That same year he gifted us with one of his very best on The Great Escape.

Uh, those are wrong duds for Texas, amigo

Alas, while grownups lined up for Cleopatra and kids pestered to see Jason And The Argonauts, the pre-Columbian escapades were lost in the shuffle, 57th at the box office, a lean harvest of $4,600,000 harsh judgement on a $4,000,000 hope.

Beneath their garb and makeup, glaring defiance and declaiming outrage are Brad Dexter, Barry Morse, Rudy Solari (as ‘Pitz’—can I get a better name, please?), Ford Rainey, Armando Silvestri and Victoria Vetri. 108 minutes that—sorry, kid—doesn’t count as a book report. **

Party like it’s 1199

* Behold! Civilizations crumble! Careers, too!—the critical drubbing and box office thud of this good-looking, essentially innocuous property signaled a downward plunge for several participants. Brynner’s status ebbed, Chakiris couldn’t land roles that suited him, Field’s shot at Hollywood flamed out and director Thompson’s once-hot streak evaporated into mediocrity that soon turned embarrassing. The fine actor Richard Basehart’s once-promising movie career had faded into obscure knockoffs (Passport To China, For Love Of Mike) and after a decent villain role in The Satan Bug he rarely returned to features, working mostly on TV, which included four seasons issuing grave commands on Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea. 

** Just when you decided to switch your major from Anthropology to Air B&Bs, mull that the last named cast member above, Victoria Vetri, then 18 and Mayan via Hollywood High, went on to become a much-desired cavewoman in When Dinosaurs Ruled The Earth, the 1968 Playmate of the Year and eventually a 9-year resident of state prison after shooting her husband.

Look, human sacrifice is a “blood for maize” situation. You get your heart cut out: we get corn flakes.