The Colossus of New York (1958)

Beware! Horny Robots Ahead

The Colossus of New York (1958)
Directed by Eugène Lourié
Written by Willis Goldbeck (story) and Thelma Schnee

Humanitarian Jeremy Spensser (Ross Martin) has just returned from accepting a Nobel Prize for being Princess Diana’s cousin when his son Billy throws a toy airplane in front of an oncoming truck. Jeremy, a certified genius, dives after it, is run over by the truck, and dies. The End.

Well, it would be the end except that Jeremy’s father is one of the world’s foremost brain surgeons. So, despite Jeremy’s terminal case of death, Dad performs an operation that results in him still being dead. Jeremy’s eulogy is given by his oldest friend, John Carrington, one of the world’s foremost Dynasty characters, who says that Jeremy’s tragic death was all part of some divine plan, in that God hated him. Dad disagrees loudly, and after the service he and Carrington have a debate on the subject of brains. Dad argues the “pro” position, stating that the brain contains all of man’s glory, plus a creamy center. Carrington takes “con,” delivering the movie’s thesis: “A brain divorced from human experience becomes a monster.” Dad smartly rejoins, “You are an idiot!” but the judges award the match to Carrington because he looks more like Snidely Whiplash.

After Jeremy’s tragic passing, his younger brother Henry loses no time putting the moves on Jeremy’s widow, Anne. Dad interrupts the lechery to show Henry what he’s been working on—raising a brain in an aquarium. (Dad got the idea from an ad in the back of a comic book: “Raise Brains at Home. Make Good Money.”) And guess what? It’s Jeremy’s brain! Henry is resentful at this latest example of Dad’s favoritism—after all, Dad never saved his brain.

Dad asks Henry to build a mechanical body to house the brain of his super-genius brother. Henry puts aside his resentment and soon has constructed a 9- foot tall papier-mâché robot with headlights instead of eyes. And best of all, it has an off switch for when it’s time to end the movie!

When Colossus experiences a WAOL protection error, Henry wants to destroy the automaton, since having a robot brother didn’t turn out to be as much fun as he thought it would be. Colossus also votes for destruction, but Dad says no, declaring that Jeremy can’t die until he ends world hunger and finishes his homework.

Colossus has almost perfected his inventions—Arctic-growing wheat and edible underwear—when he sees images of a sinking ocean liner. Dad turns on the TV, and indeed, an ocean liner is sinking—and it’s taking Leonardo DiCaprio down with it. But the important thing is that the robot has telepathy and can control minds!

It’s now been a year since Jeremy died, and in celebration Colossus trudges over to the cemetery and reads his headstone: “Jeremy Spensser: Brilliant Scientist, Really Moronic Pedestrian.” His son Billy arrives, chats up the hideous cardboard creation, and trustingly jumps into his arms after Colossus promises him a present. Billy is quite the little present-slut.

That night Colossus stealthily clomps into Anne’s bedroom to ogle her while she sleeps. She awakens and decides to stroll around the grounds in her low-cut, slinky nightgown to see if she still has what it takes to attract giant robots. At first, all she gets is Henry, who forcibly nuzzles her. Then there is the sound of arcing electricity, and Colossus lumbers into view. Anne faints, and Henry runs away, figuring that Anne will be protected by her sexy nightie. Colossus tenderly carries her to bed, cursing his brother for having pawed his wife, and even worse, for giving him mesmerizing headlight eyes but no penis.

Henry flees to Manhattan, and Colossus pursues him by walking under the Atlantic Ocean. Well, actually Colossus walks behind a vinyl shower curtain with waves drawn on it to suggest that he’s walking under water, since an electric robot made from papier-mâché really shouldn’t get wet. He plods up the pier to where the oblivious Henry is waiting. Sparks fly from his eyes, and Henry is toast.

Colossus returns home and tells Dad that raising crops to feed the weak is a waste of time, and that he’s tired of keeping “human trash” alive. So in addition to becoming a murderer while in New York, Colossus also became a Republican.

But he continues to meet innocent, greedy little Billy. When Anne asks Billy where he got the plane that looks just like the one that he threw into traffic to kill his dad, Billy tells her he got it from “Mr. Giant,” whom he’s been seeing behind Mom’s back for weeks now, the little tramp. Billy adds that today Mr. Giant said the cutest thing—he asked Billy to call him Daddy. Anne looks concerned, realizing that judges traditionally side with giant robots in custody battles.

Colossus uses his strobe-light mind control to force Dad to take Anne and Billy to the U.N., while he uses the underwater route again, walking in slow motion to simulate water resistance and match the movie’s pace (a better title for this thing might have been Molasses of New York).

At the U.N., a spirited game of human chess for world dominance is going on when Colossus enters and starts shooting death rays at everybody. They all just panic and die, so little Billy takes charge. He runs up to the giant killing machine and yells, “I hate you! You’re bad!” Billy’s message gets through to the inhuman creation, which tells Billy that if he touches him in just the right spot, he can make Colossus stop his rampage. “Push harder!” he orders. Yes, he has Billy turn him off (not turn him on, as you probably imagined). Colossus tumbles over a balcony and lands with a horrible clatter for papier-mâché. Dad surveys the smashed robot and the carnage it caused, then remarks to Carrington, “You were right—without a soul, there is only monstrousness. I guess I owe you a Coke.”

So what did we learn from Colossus of New York?

First, the reason why the United Nations passed a resolution strongly condemning the construction of weapons of mass destruction without souls.

Second, that if you plan on doing the nasty with your brother’s wife, then perhaps building him a large mechanical body that can shoot death rays from its eyes is not a good idea. Actually, it might be wiser to make him a nice Nerf body—and even then, you probably shouldn’t play with him in the house.

And lastly, that an adviser to the lovelorn mechanoid is badly needed. So, we decided to fill that niche, and provide romantic guidance to our robotic readers. Here are some of the many letters we’ve received, plus our responses:

Dear Android Landers,
I am a single, silver robot who suspects his humanoid life partner is cheating on him. Recently my man has been living away from the ship, hanging out with a brunette bimbo and her insufferable son. Anyway, he died yesterday, but instead of doing the decent thing and telling me himself, he sent his floozy with the message “Klaatu Barada nicto!” What do you think it all means?

Signed, Gort

Gort, it means “Wake up and smell the WD-40.” Maybe you’ve let yourself go over the years, and aren’t the cylindrical killing machine he first fell in love with. But whatever the reason, it’s clear he’s found another, and now he’d rather be dead than be with you. But if you set off an atomic explosion and blame the Earthlings, you’ll get to vaporize the entire planet—and then the little mantrap will get hers!

Dear Android Landers,
I am a giant space-age robot who feels like my boytoy actually has all the power in this relationship. What should I do?

Signed, Gigantor

Gigantor, you let the kid touch your joystick, and now he controls you. It’s a common problem. You have to find a way to regain your dignity (and your remote), and then crush him like an ant. And next time keep it in your pants, or in a handy remote control caddy.

Dear Android Landers,
I am a general domestic robotic aide whose creator designed me to look like a ten-year-old girl. He made me stupid and docile, dresses me in Mary Jane pumps and a lacy red pinafore, and has me live in his house. Isn’t this wrong?

Signed, Vicki

Yes, it’s deeply wrong. While robot pedophilia can’t be cured, it can be treated. Use your superhuman strength to break his “small wonder”—that should slow him down. And watch out for that creepy pervert “brother” too!

Dear Android Landers,
Danger, danger! My lover is verbally abusive, always calling me things like “Bubble-Headed Booby” or “Nattering Ninny.” I know he means it in fun, but it really hurts my feelings. How do I get him to stop?

Signed, The Robot

Dear The Robot.
You could change your programming and stop being a babbling bird-brained baby who cares about such things. Or, you could just do us all a favor and kill him. It’s all the same to me.

Emotionlessly yours, Android Landers

Housekeeping Note: Ever feel like patting the writer on the head, but already subscribe to seven hundred other things? Me too. So I’ve added a Tip Jar below, if you happen to feel like bunging in a few bucks to say “Atta Boy!”