Hercules, No. 2 - Hercules Unchained (1959)

Finally my cheapo “Sci-Fi Classics 50 Movie Pack” DVD is pulling its own weight around here!

No…wait…that damn disc is all scratched. ..Yeah, definitely scratched…Unwatchable…You fail me again, cheapo “Sci-Fi Classics 50 Movie Pack” DVD!

Leaving me no choice but to go with my second option…


Yeah, I watched the “Mystery Science Theater 3000” version.

Yeah, this movie isn’t going to be too good. Funny, though.

And it’s early yet in the franchise!

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Even before the Italian peplum sword-and-sandals movement really took off in response to the surprise success of Hercules, writer/director (a veritable auteur!) Pietro Francisci had already delivered that film’s equally successful sequel: Hercules Unchained. At least that’s the title usually given in English; in Italian, ‘tis Ercole e la regina de Lidia (Hercules and the Queen of Lydia). The less dramatic Italian title is a bit more accurate I guess, plot-wise, but Hercules Unchained is far more instructive once one parses out what it really means: Hercules Cheats on His Wife for a Period of Time.


That wife would be Iole (returning nonentity Sylvia Koscina), who tied the Gordian knot with Hercules in the last film’s quicko epilogue. Hercules Unchained is a proper sequel, with Koscina being but one of a massive returning cast. Of greatest importance to everybody is that Steve Reeves is back as the Herc. Reeves utilizes his great bodybuilder skill of looking like a bodybuilder. Acting-wise, Reeves mostly strikes poses and laughs a hearty laugh, a throaty “Ha hah ha!” I associate most with the Troy McClure satire of the subgenre. Oh yes, Herc acts the jerk (see what I did there?) for much of the film, though it’s unclear if that’s an intentional trait, or simply a little of Reeves rubbing off. (For such a homoerotic bit of cinema, I’ll try to refrain from using phrases like “rubbing off.”)

With the rest of the Italian copycats still waiting in the wings, Hercules Unchained has the opportunity to further cement the peblum formulae, and correct many sloppy narrative problems with the original Hercules. It is a more streamlined narrative, though surely the “MST3K” edit does a lot to help it. No matter, the herky-jerky habit of the Herc-y turkey is a thing of antiquity, as the better elements of Hercules become clearer. For one thing, Hercules starts out with a consistent goal (get to his hometown of Thebes), and he sticks to it.

That’s not to say there isn’t some arbitrary randomness at play, most notably an early encounter with the Giant Anteus (Primo Carnera, which sounds like a breaded beef dish, but is actually a bearded beefcake dish, a wrestler who makes even the mighty Steve Reeves look like a puny girly man). For no reason beyond the mere bullying fun of it (the mentality it seems behind all musclemen of the 1950s), Anteus forbids Herc’s funky little caravan passage. Ulysses is there (Gabriele Antonini again), displaced from his own distinct “Odyssey” narrative (and granted Romanic moniker), easily tossed aside by the big lug. Iole doesn’t stand much chance either.

Ah, but the Herc! He sleeps now, for Hercules is naught but an appetitive soul, but once he awakes, oooh, watch out Anteus!


Or not. It seems Anteus cannot be bested, which celebrates with a “Ho ho ho!” to counter Reeves’ “Ha hah ha!” Then Hercules has one of those brain things, whattaya call ‘em?...An idea! Yeah! Anteus is Anteus! (That’s almost verbatim dialogue.) Hercules isn’t quite a member of Mensa, is he? Ulysses, who puts the “logical” in “mythological,” knows a bit more: Anteus is the son of the Earth Goddess. So Hercules tosses him into the sea, and that is that. [Dusting off hands.]

Randomness over, Herc, Iole and Ulee continue on their shoddy way. Into the forests they go, where many Theban soldiers make their camp. Hercules fights off one more rape attempt on Iole, and I’m glad to report that’s mostly the end of that.

Instead, the Hercu-crew discovers a nearby cave, inhabited by the former King of Thebes, Oedipus himself, that motherfucker (Cesare Fantoni). By his particular beard and toga combo, we cannot help but remember these Herculepics derived from DeMille’s The Ten Commandments. Yeah, Oedipus looks all Heston-y. And he’s in a randomly expository mood too, much for our benefit, for why else would Oedipus choose to explain to his own son Polynices (Mimmo Palmara, returning from Hercules in a new role with a bad red wig) all the vagaries of Polynices’ own recent life. For as Oedipus gave up his Theban throne (on account of the whole mom-doinking thing, which isn’t mentioned), he split the kingdom all Ran-like twixt his sons Polynices and Eteocles. But Eteocles is a big ol’ meanie, and won’t share nice! So it’s brother against brother, with war threatening to break out throughout all of Thebes.

Classics scholars among us (i.e. me) will recognize this setup as deriving from Aeschylus’ “The Seven Against Thebes.” No points, though, since the credits say as much, also attributing Sophocles’ “Aedipus [sic] at Colonus.” That seems a mighty high-fallutin’ inspiration for a late-‘50s bit of Italian body-ogling, but recall what a heedless potpourri Hercules made of Grecian myth. The random sampling reoccurs here, but with a bit more focus, even if this remains a world where Hercules, Ulysses, Oedipus, Orpheus, Jason, and many others all occupy the same generation. And though it seems nice to cite Aeschylus and Sophocles (what, no room for Euripides?!), this whole setup is simply a generic genre framework, ‘cause there’s always a kingdom in limbo, allowing for scheming villains and battle scenes. There was one in Hercules, there is one here, there’ll be one from hence forth.

Anyway, Hercules agrees to act as Henry Kissinger, his own mental deficiencies be damned, and parse out a truce between the siblings. Then Oedipus casually walks straight to Hell!

SKIT INTERMISSION

The gang reaches Eteocles (Sergio Fantoni, whose boisterous “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!” puts Reeves’ laugh to shame). And he is anxious to make amends with Polynices, so – well, that was a quick and simple plot. Iole stays back in Thebes with some handmaidens she suddenly has. Meanwhile, Hercules and Ulysses carry a ceasefire scroll back to Polynice.

Leave it to the Herc to screw this one up, and make a movie out of it. Seeing a bird, he announces “Look. I’m hungry.” To which Crow T. Robot responds: “Listen. I’m cold.” And like that, Herc drinks from a natural spring well, and like that a one-time-only voice over announces this to be the Waters of Forgetfulness. Hercules, whose hamster wasn’t spinning too much to begin with, forgets damn well everything about himself; Joel believes that includes the ability to breath, in an amusing riff.

When your sequel prohibits storytelling in any other way, just give your main character amnesia! It’s a cheap little ploy to sidestep issues of characterization (characterization?! Hercules?!), and do whatever you please.

So, randomly, some soldiers collect up Hercules, and also Ulysses. Realizing the shit he’s in, Ulysses pretends as a deaf, dumb and blind kid (who sure plays a mean pinball), going all “Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh!” as he scampers about like a little ape. That’s not much of an addition to the great chortling competition, Antonini. At least it keeps Ulysses un-stabbed.

These soldiers haul the duo off to the land of Lydia, where a totally unrelated new plot may commence: the film’s central plot. And random though it is, a mere two independent storylines is streamlined, by Hercules standards. What could possibly await our heroes in this new and strange land?


A live action Jessica Rabbit! That’s Queen Onfale, played by Sylvia Lopez – a French model (which is surely enough to warrant casting in Italian cinema), who sadly died later that very same year of leukemia at the young age of 27, or maybe 28, depending upon vanity. Here they replay that stupid Amazon detour from Hercules, but with the luxury of greater screen time to make it work. And with that improvement, Onfale becomes the first of a hallowed peplum tradition: the evil femme fatale temptress. Since these Herculean strongman heroes cannot be bested by simple physical threats, sex combines with smarts to give them a true challenge. Onfale takes an instant attraction to the mass of dumb muscles that’s just arrived, and even has her former lover executed, to shore up any loose ends. Let the titular adultery commence!

This illicit love affair between Hercules and Onfale consists mostly of classic hedonism, in that they both lie about amidst the flowers eating grapes, all while giggling handmaidens race about like so many brainless chorus girls. Such handmaidens are the standard representatives of the female gender in this genre, eye candy for the fellas to make up for the homoeroticism (itself somewhat reduced in this entry, thank Olympus). And because Italy is a musical nation, they allow for another formula element: the Dancing Girls.


Tin-eared musical interludes add to the chunky action and ill-measured comedy to create the grand mélange of tonal miscalculations that is the Italian sword-and-sandals epic. The bots’ riffing here is amongst their finest, and that’s all I have to say.

Onfale keeps Hercules continually drugged with more Waters of Forgetfulness™, her docile boy toy. Someone could make a wonderful Freudian investigation into the genre, with all the odd sexuality on display. For as coy as it is, Hercules Unchained is distinctly European in how comfortably it portrays fornication, etc.

Meanwhile, Ulysses mugs his way amidst the Lydian palace, employed mostly as Herc’s masseuse. He’s his fluffer! He tries to restore Herc’s memories, with helpful bits of exposition for those somehow needing filling in. (“Filling in,” another phrase I’d be best to avoid in such rippling contexts.) Ulysses even has Hercules try to bend metal, to discover he is the mighty Hercules; he cannot. I can see they’re attempting another study into the fractured psyche of the great demigod, but this amnesia thing simply bogs the tale in low gear, where we have no choice but to wait for Ulysses to succeed, restore what accounts for Hercules’ brains, so the story can resume.

SKIT INTERMISSION

Two sorts of scenes follow: Herc lying on a couch, and Ulysses struggling to surface repressed memories. Psychoanalysis metaphor! Not that I have much use for such things. During another of Ulysses’ sessions, he launches into a flashback, which at least further explores the villainy of Onfale even while Hercules remains in perpetual arrested development.


One day, when Ulysses strolled through the wrong (or right) ivy-covered doorway, he stumbled upon Onfale’s statue museum. Here she keeps statues of her former lovers, whom she trades out with the regularity of any easily-disinterested worldly lover. Her Egyptian slaves even have a process to turn flesh into marble, why not, because fantasy is the name of the game. Joel: “It’s like a cheap Temple of Doom set.”

Onfale even exposits to her loyal, well-informed slaves all about the statueifying process, just in case someone like Ulysses happens to be surreptitiously listening in.

Hercules, learning this, can bend the bar. And yet his memory is still long in coming, a credit to Hercules’ halfwittedness. And just when an Argo full of the mixed-nut heroes from last time has washed ashore! Most are imprisoned, but Onifale takes an interest in one, Castor (which is Greek for “beaver,” which I don’t even want to look into). This spells imminent statueification for our muscle-bound hero, as Onifale now prefers Castor oil to jerking the Herc. (Crow: “Gee, Miss Mood Swing!”) Making matters worse, Hercules still doesn’t recognize any of his old comrades in tanning butter.

Onifale, having changed out her man meat, has also changed appearance. No longer a live action Jessica Rabbit, she’s now a live action Wilma Flintstone! Do you have strange fantasies? Because they’re getting fulfilled here.


Okay, damn it, enough of this pussy-footing around, Hercules has his memory back at long freaking last, and can proceed to laying down the whoop-ass! It’s him versus the palace guards, a one-per-peplum special. As befitting Hercs’ own particular…idiom, his choice of weaponry includes a big ass table and several big ass statues, all which proceed to crush innumerable helpless Italian extras.

Hercules escapes to the Argo with all his bestest male “companions.” In a parallel to the final scene with the Amazons in Hercules, Onfale sings a lament to her lost, loved Hercules – the only man who could ever truly master her, never mind that whole Castor thing, and never mind the icky sexual politics this signifies. It’s the Dido detour from “The Aeneid” once again, though now with something closer to that epic’s power. One thousandth of its power, but still… And Onfale, as befitting most of her temptress brethren to come, kills herself rather than live a day without the embrace of Hercules’ throbbing biceps – by leaping into the statuifier. A shame we never see the result.

Coming to his Herculean senses, Hercules demands a much-delayed completion to the Theban peace talk process. Too bad he’s then informed they’re 20 days overdue, and surely the warring Theban factions will have gone to war by now. And all because Hercules was easily distracted, when his only mission was to get from point A to point B.

SKIT INTERMISSION

Indeed, it is war now, and a chance for Francisci and buddies to pull out all the budgetary stops and stage a massive, Ben-Hur-esque battle sequence with as many extras as a B-grade Italian knock-off could manage. It’s mighty impressive, in fact, with nice cinematography (courtesy of Mario Bava) and ambitious imagery. Which goes to show these would-be epics did have professionalism behind ‘em, it just didn’t extend to the acting or screenwriting.

One question remains: Who is the villain? Neither Polynices nor Eteocles is eviler, on the face of it. However, a few more examples of Eteocles’ laugh, now coming closer to the classic “Mwah hah hah hah!,” and there’s no doubt in our minds. On top of that, he’s kidnapped Iole, the bride of Hercules, who’s just now coming back into the picture.

And along comes the Herc brigade, here to end the war via…some means. Via fighting, of course, ‘cause we didn’t come here to see diplomacy in action or anything. And without clarity of mind (hey, it’s Hercules!), they simply putter off into the Theban palace, never mind the battle’s taking place outside the city gates. Oh well, I guess anything’s a fine enough excuse to satisfy one remaining portion of the peplum formula: the Animal Fight.


Hercules, true to his intellectual form, walks straight into a very, very, very, very obvious trap in the gladiatorial arena. The tigers are released, and it all goes familiarly. Shots of tigers. Unrelated shots of Steve Reeves, never in any danger. Occasional shots of Reeve tussling with a throw rug. Give a minute, then announce that Reeves has won. Were these things ever exciting?

Because Hercules isn’t the one who’s gonna resolve this plot (which is his fault, let us not forget), it’s up to Polynices and Eteocles to do it themselves. To prevent further bloodshed, they opt to a one-on-one duel to the death outside of Thebes’ gates. Yeah, it’s pretty much Achilles vs. Hector in “The Iliad”…or for those less classically minded, Brad Pitt vs. Eric Bana in Troy. Oy! Even now I suppose these peace-happy brothers could just chat and make amends, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, they both die in the duel.

Well, that leaves a…happy ending, I guess, though with a big, fat, glaring vacancy on the throne. And another vacancy in the designated villain spot, and with us still craving one final battle sequence to slake our bloodlust. Literally out of left field, in comes Eteocles’ commandment, who up and announces to Hercules that…er, he’s gonna kill, like, everybody, and also go rape Iole. (Ah-hah, a return of the wonderful rape joke!) That big, shiny battle sequence we were promised takes place, and Hercules crushes this newly evil nameless peon underneath a siege tower. Mooks flee. And that’s victory…I guess. Still not sure what kind of a political situation this leaves Thebes in, but…eh, I guess it’ll work itself out. Hercules sure ain’t gonna help!


The popular success of Hercules Unchained owes as much to Joseph E. Levine’s distribution method as the original did. Tom Servo himself admits so much. With lightning now striking twice, it showed Hercules was no fluke, and the genre (and franchise) could begin in earnest.

Except this was it for Reeves, at least as far as the Hercules series is concerned. He’d do about a dozen more anonymous pepla in the next 5 years – starting immediately with The Giant of Marathon, The Last Days of Pompeii, White Warrior, Goliath & the Barbarians. Yes, the rest of 1959 did see the peplum grow out of control. Why he left his trademark role, I dunno. Perhaps he didn’t want to get typecast, in which case why play OTHER interchangeable mythological he-men?! Reeves’ never recovered from this silly misstep, as he eventually became so tied-in with the sword-and-sandals subgenre that his career died off around the same time as the movement. Which was just as Spaghetti Westerns were taking over. Hell, Leone even offered Reeves the lead in A Fistful of Dollars. Reeves turned him down, stupidly assuming Italians couldn’t make westerns (moron!). That role instead went to Clint Eastwood, and the rest has nothing to do with Hercules.

Not that Reeves’ departure was a gigantic loss for the producers, as marginally-talented bodybuilders are a dime a dozen. Indeed, the genre would eventually sport a ridiculous host of indistinguishable hard-bodies, as we’ll start to see next time.


RELATED POSTS
• No. 1 Hercules (1958)
• No. 3 The Revenge of Hercules (1960)
• No. 4 Hercules vs. the Hydra (1960)
• No. 5 Hercules and the Conquest of Atlantis (1961)
• No. 6 Hercules id the Haunted World (1961)
• No. 7 Maciste Against Hercules in the Vale of Woe (1961)
• No. 8 Ulysses vs. Hercules (1962)
• No. 9 The Fury of Hercules (1962)
• No. 10 Hercules, Samson and Ulysses (1963)
• No. 12 Hercules in the Land of Darkness (1964)
• No. 16 Hercules and the Tyrants of Babylon (1964)
• No. 17 Hercules, Samson, Maciste and Ursus (1964)
• No. 18 Hercules and the Princess of Troy (1965)
• No. 19 Hercules the Avenger (1965)