I love Ray Harryhausen’s work as much as any good cinephile. Stop-motion monsters and creatures and little clockwork owls of the gods get me giddy every time, but I’d be lying if I didn’t fess up to the fact that at least 1/3 of the reason why I love re-watching Clash of the Titans is for this piece of babe-a-liciousness. I mean, Harry Hamlin’s Perseus spends half the film sans proper shirt AND he has a luscious head of boyish hair to boot. Nobody short of a marble statue looked so good holding up the bloody head of a slain gorgon.
The first time I realised that the only other context I have for old Harry is from Mad Men, I laughed. And then I nodded with approval. You’re pretty gorg, Mr. Hamlin, Sir. You make Greek Mythology even more interesting. I’ll ride Pegasus with you any day.
What’s up?
Yes please.
Love those shoes and those thighs.
Don’t stop.
Mmmmmmm.
Bonus: Harry chillin’ with Don Draper. Go figure.
