If your goal is to make a film with the longest title in the history of cinema, may the odds be in your favor as you enter the gates of Valhalla. Although certainly it would help people remember the movie, in direct effect, it will help people forget the movie altogether. There are filmmakers like James Riffel who have pulled a What’s up, Tiger Lily approach to some bad movies (why doesn’t anyone ever do this with Casablanca or Citizen Kane?) where they’ve wiped the soundtrack away like in his aptly titled Night of the Day of the Dawn of the Son of the Bride of the Return of the Revenge of the Terror of the Attack of the Evil, Mutant, Hellbound, Flesh-Eating Subhumanoid Zombified Living Dead, Part 3 (yep, that’s the title, and no, I will not repeat it), but that’s a cheat since its not an originally made film. That reward will go to none other than Roger Corman, the OG King of the Bs. Certainly, there are movies with longer titles (or shorter ones like Costa-Gavras’ simply titled Z), like the 1965 whacky-tacky The Lemon Grove Kids Meet the Green Grasshopper and the Vampire Lady from Outer Space (don’t ask) or the 1967 similarly long-winded shocker-mocker The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies!!? (seriously, don’t ask. For the love of everything holy, don’t ask). But like a great Viking thunderclap from Thor’s hammer, Corman beat them long before with his 1958 sea shanty, lengthy-titled creature feature The Saga of the Viking Women and Their Voyage to the Waters of the Great Sea Serpent (skit, say that three times fast).
Having recently heard the majors’ studios were making the Kirk Douglas – Tony Curtis epic sword (and bad accents) actioner The Vikings, Corman (thinking as a Viking would) thought he could benefit from the bigger studios’ promotion and trick audiences into coming to his version! Also, he had just been promised by a group of young and talented special effects artists who swore they could deliver a million-dollar portfolio on Corman’s dollar value menu price (no supersize, thank you very much). Normally, online spending two or three thousand on special effects for his films, Corman advertised to the world, with the help of these young experts, he would spend a whopping fifty thousand dollars on special effects for his ride of the Valkyrie! There was only one little Þing in his well-thought-out plan – they couldn’t do it! Corman was quoted as saying that he realized he had been had, and though he thought about conducting a Sǫk against the effects artists, he came to terms with it. Though honest in their intentions, they were in over their heads, sinking instead of swimming with what effects they could produce (they certainly couldn’t produce an escape plan). Armed with a camera, his willingness to stop at nothing, and Áræði most would have lost at sea, Corman plowed through to finish the film, even if it meant almost killing his actors (literally, not figuratively). Several broken fingers from badly choreographed sword fights, a few actors claiming they almost drowned on the set with cheaply made boats in pools, and the ultimate fagrar kona Susan Cabot (Corman’s Sorority Girl and The Wasp Woman) swearing she almost fell off a cliff while riding a wild horse. Yet having survived it all, Corman’s humor could not be deyðaed easily, as while finding it impossible to find a simple three-letter title for this film, which was common in those days for these pictures, Corman decided to go the opposite and come up with the longest title in cinematic history… until a few years later when he gave in and shortened it to just Viking Women and The Sea Serpent!
These poor, poor Valkyries. Having lost all of their men to the fields of Fólkvangr, it is up to them to go on a deadly mission to find them again. Although it should be smooth sailing, the women never took into consideration the kind of saga Viking women would go through as they voyage through the rough and tough waters that hold a great massive sea creature that looks like a serpent (maybe that could have been the title, as a few more words never harmr). As the slithering beast attacks their ship and nearly drowns all of them (the characters, not the actors), they end up on the shores of a remote island, but like the sea, it’s filled with ghastly creatures: men (you’re welcome, ladies)! Having suffered the same fate, the Valkyries discover their men are still alive, but are now the slaves of the evil ruler of the island Stark, who is Helvíti-bent on making the woman part of his tribe, as well as part of his fun time (the Viking term for vomit is Að spýja). They narrowly escape the clutches of Stark in a raft, but Stark quickly follows suit. Will the escape be for nautical, or will they all face their Feigð by upsetting a (reel) beast of burden lurking in the depths of the B-movie trenches?
Fjordling your way at a choppy sixty-six, the film was lined with the usual Corman gang of misfits like Cabot and Jonathan Haze (Corman’s The Terror and Little Shop of Horrors), but this was the first for Corman to work with 50s sci-fi and horror composer Albert Glasser, who would go on to conduct the likes of Corman’s Teenage Caveman and Bert I. Gordon’s War of the Colossal Beast. Like a fish swimming in the ocean, you can find many copies of this on all sorts of streamers, but if you can lure yourself a copy of the MST3K VOL. XXXIV box set that includes this film and Corman’s The Undead, but also comes with a fantastic documentary by Ballyhoo Productions on the history of American International Pictures (what a hodd). So, the next time you find yourself trying to come up with the longest movie title in the world, don’t try to be like Corman or any of the rest and be original by not only having the longest, but launch it in its original Viking language like Saga Víkinga Kvenna Ok Ferð Peirra Til Vatna Hins Mikla Sæorms!
