Harryhausen’s effects swansong and a rather sorry end for the noble tradition of stop motion monsterism, it must be said. The Medusa’s great, yes, but God the film’s dull. Long, ponderous, with none of the blissful brain-in-neutral wallowing of the Sinbad or Jason films and that bloody clockwork owl’s annoying in the extreme. Still, there are some good bits of business in there, to be sure, and alongside your Maggie Smiths and your Oliviers you’ve got the likes of Pat ‘Bomber’ Roach in a bed sheet. This really ought to be showing this at 11 o’clock on a Sunday morning preceded by Digby and some Porky Pig cartoons, in a school end of term film show homage, because that’s how this film was meant to be seen, we feel.