The inexplicable craze for sword and sorcery during the 1980s saw some good films (Conan The Barbarian, The Beastmaster), some decidedly average film (The Sword And The Sorcerer, Hearts And Armour) and some downright abysmal films (Ator The Invincible, Gor, Deathstalker, and many more which I don't have ample space to list here). The only real surprise is that a genre of such limited appeal managed to stick around for the best part of seven or eight years, especially considering how shamelessly these movies tended to rip each other off. A peculiar sub-genre which arose at the time was that of the 'Feminist Fantasy Film' – best described as Conan-style movies in which the main character is always portrayed by a woman with considerable sword-wielding prowess. Well-known titles in this field would include the likes of Red Sonja, Gwendoline and Barbarian Queen, but the first film to use this idea was actually the 1983 offering Hundra. Alas, apart from introducing a new slant to this Neanderthal genre, Hundra comes across as a pretty dismal movie.
A tribe of women survive in the wilderness without a single man amongst their number. The only time they mix with the male species at all is when they wish to be impregnated. Even then, if they give birth to a boy they simply give the baby away and try again until they have a girl. One member of the tribe – fierce, independent warrioress Hundra (Laurene Landon) – refuses to have any dealings with man-folk and proudly declares that she will never have children, preferring instead to hunt and kill and serve as a protector to the tribe. One day, while Hundra is away on an expedition, the entire tribe is slaughtered by an army of men. When Hundra returns, she finds that she is the last of her kind and the only way she can repopulate the tribe is by going amongst the very men that massacred her brethren to find a suitable mate. She finds the task repugnant but accepts it anyway, as it is the only way to ensure her people will live on. But her fighting instinct refuses to stay down and she is soon leading a rebellion against the men-folk and their chauvinistic ways.
It's hard to find many positives to say about Hundra. It has the dubious honour of inventing its own sub-genre, which is something at least, and the score from Ennio Morricone is every bit as lively and catchy as one would expect from this composer. Some of the battle sequences, especially early on, are put together quite competently too (though I would hesitate to call them truly rousing examples of screen spectacle). Apart from that, the film is a pretty sorry affair. None of the actors come across well despite their enthusiasm – the thick sound and awful lighting embarrasses them every step of the way. The film's message is as muddled as its perceived target audience – on the one hand, we are told how misogynistic men are and asked to celebrate as a woman hacks them down to size; yet at the same time we have this crusading warrioress riding around on her horse in the nude, showing plenty of tit, bum and pubic hair. It's like the film sets out to challenge cinematic degradation of women, but is happy to join in with it too, which is confusing and stupid in equal measure. The best way to approach Hundra is as a pure sword and sorcery film – it might not be a very good example of the genre, but it sure beats trying to figure out the movie's unfathomably cockeyed politics!
A tribe of women survive in the wilderness without a single man amongst their number. The only time they mix with the male species at all is when they wish to be impregnated. Even then, if they give birth to a boy they simply give the baby away and try again until they have a girl. One member of the tribe – fierce, independent warrioress Hundra (Laurene Landon) – refuses to have any dealings with man-folk and proudly declares that she will never have children, preferring instead to hunt and kill and serve as a protector to the tribe. One day, while Hundra is away on an expedition, the entire tribe is slaughtered by an army of men. When Hundra returns, she finds that she is the last of her kind and the only way she can repopulate the tribe is by going amongst the very men that massacred her brethren to find a suitable mate. She finds the task repugnant but accepts it anyway, as it is the only way to ensure her people will live on. But her fighting instinct refuses to stay down and she is soon leading a rebellion against the men-folk and their chauvinistic ways.
It's hard to find many positives to say about Hundra. It has the dubious honour of inventing its own sub-genre, which is something at least, and the score from Ennio Morricone is every bit as lively and catchy as one would expect from this composer. Some of the battle sequences, especially early on, are put together quite competently too (though I would hesitate to call them truly rousing examples of screen spectacle). Apart from that, the film is a pretty sorry affair. None of the actors come across well despite their enthusiasm – the thick sound and awful lighting embarrasses them every step of the way. The film's message is as muddled as its perceived target audience – on the one hand, we are told how misogynistic men are and asked to celebrate as a woman hacks them down to size; yet at the same time we have this crusading warrioress riding around on her horse in the nude, showing plenty of tit, bum and pubic hair. It's like the film sets out to challenge cinematic degradation of women, but is happy to join in with it too, which is confusing and stupid in equal measure. The best way to approach Hundra is as a pure sword and sorcery film – it might not be a very good example of the genre, but it sure beats trying to figure out the movie's unfathomably cockeyed politics!