Hercules, No. 19 - Hercules, the Avenger (1965)

Though this post is primarily a consideration of Hercules the Avenger (1965), let it stand as an epitaph for the entire defunct Italian sword-and-sandals craze.

What leads to the death of a franchise (or a genre)? One may usually cite related notions like audience disinterest and reduced profitability. For Italian pepla, these movies (be they Herculeses, Macistes, Ursi or mere Atlases) were so ridiculously cheap, profitability was mostly guaranteed, no matter how niche they became. In response, the marketplace was submerged in bargain basement bodybuilder bonanzas boasting an intense misinterpretation of ancient times, a “mythological” without the “logical.” Such rancid feces are rarely watchable as simple movies. Hence comes audience apathy, as the moronic mania neared a wretched decade in length.

What is lost in this arrangement is another fatal symptom of series mortality: filmmaker disinterest. Oh, producers still desired more Herculeseseseseseses, from now until Ragnarok. They could only see lira signs cartoonishly in their own eyeballs, nothing more. Directors, actors, even lowly technicians, they’d shirk Herc, and by 1965 were off in the Spanish desert creating rip-offs of A Fistful of Dollars in favor of rip-offs of Hercules Unchained.


But for someone like Maurizio Lucidi, a Hercules movie could still be made, in total defiance of Zeus, Yahweh, even dreaded Xenu! For all you need is a back catalogue of the scant good Herculi, an editing booth, and the dubbing capacity to alter things as you see fit. Thus Hercules the Avenger, the dead final film in the cycle, is hastily cut-and-pasted from preexisting efforts, accomplishing top spectacle for minimal effort. And since dubbing is a phenomenally common factor in Italian movies, this makes the task that much simpler.

It seems someone was preemptively listening to my claims that the best of the series were always Hercules and the Captive Women and Hercules in the Haunted World. These came of the genre’s glory years, and of capable directors (Mario Bava for the latter). Even more usefully, Reg Park starred in each. So with a quick rejiggering of formula elements, the standout scenes of Park’s two efforts can be reshuffled into a new narrative, edited slightly for pace and whatnot (Lucidi is primarily an editor), and you’ve spuriously created the final Hercules!

Hercules the Avenger is a remarkably painless viewing experience, surely in light of the emaciated wastrels the later pepla had become. It helps that the original movies are decent – you won’t find me complaining about rewatching a Mario Bava movie. And the seams aren’t hugely obvious, a credit to the dubbing approach. Compare this to Trail of the Pink Panther, a similar(ish) cannibalism of former footage, but it a stagnated story with huge discrepancies in tone, quality, etc. And Avenger further solidifies my theory that the best pepla have been preserved more scrupulously than their lesser castoffs. There is actual color in this movie…though to compare it with images from the original movies, one still sees a certain degradation.



Actually, so non-misguided is Lucidi’s lucid effort, he was even granted the capacity to film assorted new scenes, amounting to at most 10% of the final product, to add the needed connective tissue (and tiresome tyrant subplot). And with so little time needed to be filled, Lucidi was able to accomplish a lush look comparable to the pilfered footage. They even got Reg Park back! All told, for a project as ignominious as “outright plagiary of something I’ve already scene,” Avenger is easily in the top 90th percentile of its genre.

Avenger’s story is spurned on by scenes of political intrigue, which seems to be new footage, if memory serves. Not that any one throne room scene is distinguishable from any other. King Eteocles (Franco Ressel) of the Kingdom TBD offers to wed Syracuse’s Queen Leda (Gia Sandri), to join their two realms. Okay, this always happens, and so does what follows. The wicked Eteocles learns, via a plot-enabling prophecy, that Hercules shall one day stop him. So Eteocles sets about scheming against Hercules, never realizing it’s just this behavior which’ll cause his defeat. As Eteocles puts it, “I know who the enemies of my kingdom are. They are my enemies.” Oh well thank you then!

Meanwhile, Hercules has worries all his own, as his new dubbing fills us in. He’s just slain the Hydra, something I think about three different Hercules films cover. This time, it’s earned him the undying wrath of, oh, let’s say, Gaea. Basically, it’s like those assorted Ulysses-invoking pepla which hypothesize a Poseidon vengeance in regards to the Cyclops’ de-eyeballing. Gaea’s de-Herculizing of the world involves bestowing a bizarre illness upon his son Xantos (Luigi Barbini). Hercules sets off on some vague voyage to “save his soul,” though it takes Avenger a good long while for this entire though process to become clear. Which is just in keeping with the other pepla, for a clarity of storytelling is priority # 196 for every single Italian genre artist. Besides, the audience needs something to confuse ‘em every once in a while.

Hercules’ trek starts out like the introductory sea voyage out of Hercules and the Captive Women. Actually, footage of Hercules randomly traveling on a ship (as he does in both instances) is so easy to plop into new contexts, there’s not even very much new dubbing. So the same sequence follows with nary an alteration: mutiny, marooning, Hercules singlehandedly tugging the ship back via chain, Hercules along escaping on the ship.



The entirety of Hercules’ subsequent adventure has nothing to do with Eteocles and his political intrigue. The only reason that stuff exists, as with most of Lucidi’s new footage, is to get this up to a proper, non-Hercules and the Princess of Troy running time, and to give Hercules a climax.

Sticking with the interesting thing (old footage), Hercules’ ship is wrecked in a storm. He slowly drifts from the start of Captive Women into the middle of Haunted World, and it really simplifies identification since all this even follows the order of the original films. But look what a little trimming of dialogue allows! In Captive Women, the Herc battles a shakeshifting elemental, who takes (among other shapes) the form of a large, rubbery iguana-man. Without citing the elemental, Avenger simply plops Hercules down in some inexplicable underwater yet completely dry grotto, to fight a real giant rubber lizard.


Meanwhile, Eteocles sets about his unrelated scheme against Hercules, which can move ahead even without Hercules’ presence. For, in something a little more clever than the standard “Go murder the unmurderable demigod,” Eteocles has decided to damage Hercules’ reputation (he’s gonna release a series of uninvolving exploitation movies?!). No, Eteocles has wrangled up a Herc lookalike, a Hercalike, and charged him with a sequence of (newly filmed) chaotic murders that rival the Joker’s. Never mind Eteocles, like most peplum tyrants, betrays his own villainous intentions by chumming around with a serial-killing muscleman.

Now, it seems many long-running series eventually succumb to the lookalike plot. It’s only surprising Hercules managed to avoid this until the very end. But oddly enough, it’s not a briefly returning Reg Park who plays the Herceauxles, Anteas. Nope, that’d be Giovanni Cianfriglia (a peplum bodybuilder so undistinguished, we haven’t even encountered him in this cycle). It’s telling that you can cast two entirely random bodybuilders as each other’s doppelgangers. I doubt Avenger does this to make a subtle satirical point, as it’s too concerned with telling a rousing yarn to make such meta statements. Still, for whatever reason Lucidi had to use a non-Park to seem Park-like, and it never seems exceptionally foolish.

That’s the new stuff, which necessitates new interpretation. Back on the Hercu-front, Hercules is well and surely in the Haunted World’s haunted world, though this time it’s not Hades, but simply some generic Land of Vague Damnation (Or Some Such). With no evident alterations, Hercules once again assists the Hesperides in obtaining their Golden Plot Apple. He then proceeds to cross a familiar pit of fire, and skips ahead to Haunted World’s climax for his wonderfully Evil Dead II-esque zombie fracas.



In considering screen shots back to back, it’s clear a lot of Mario Bava’s beautiful, hellish surrealism has somehow been lost, though the imagery remains. The crispness is gone, as are the rather immaculate widescreen compositions (which barely register at their present scale). It’s a testament to Bava’s art that even in this bastardized state, a repurposed Haunted World sequence remains the crown jewel in the genre.

Hercules frees Xantos’ bound soul, which is represented by the guy from Haunted World who played Theseus (awkward! – especially since there’s a totally different Theseus in this one). Thus ends the Haunted World segment of Avenger, and with it the movie has peaked.

Emerging from Quasi-Hell, Hercules learns of the ridiculous Anteas plot some good 2/3rds in. He also finds himself back in Captive Women for the majority of the ensuing action sequences, as Lucidi has the good grace to not trust himself with competent physical choreography. And now, as if we're in a completely different movie (which we are), Syracuse is well under the iron bicep of Anteas. And with Anteas’ body count somehow besting Jason Voorhees’, Hercules goes to the Valley of Agony (formerly the Valley of Unsuitable Leprous Would-Be Sacrifices) to amass an army of extras.



As in Captive Women, Hercules decides (here for less justifiable reasons) to trigger a volcanic eruption, because somehow Syracuse’s salvation lies only in Syracuse’s (nee Atlantis’) violent, cataclysmic destruction. What is it with Herc and wanton mass murder? (He does up Anteas’ kill count in a single swoop, for what it’s worth.)

Thus the prophecy is mostly fulfilled, with a little impenetrable detour so that Xantos can question his father’s sanity – see the general Italian issue with “B follows A” storytelling. At last, in new footage making up the climax, Hercules and Anteas face off in Peplum Cave. It’s a surprisingly legible wrestling match between two greasy dudes, something most pepla cannot manage. Here’s perhaps why Lucidi cast a new actor as Anteas, as he wouldn’t want the challenge of having Reg Park fight himself.


And this is how the Hercules franchise ends, on a much higher note than it has any right to, honestly. Though the whole series’ existence is a similar fluke, owing to a coincidence of timing, plagiarism, and good U.S. distribution. It’s pretty amazing that a cobbled reediting of preexisting movies could be among the better of this franchise’s efforts, due to the quality of those original films, the competence of the editing, or the general crappiness of everything else.

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Over on the Maciste front, that semi-Herculean franchise itself produced one more film after Hercules, Samson, Maciste and Ursus, which by all means should’ve been the end of these franchises. And ever the follower where Hercules was the trail blazer, Maciste mangles out its final token entry, 1965’s Maciste, Avenger of the Mayans, using Lucidi’s Hercules approach. Namely, this is another cobbled-together act of filmic photocopying.

But like all Macistean efforts, it habitually sucks worse than Hercules – this I am unfairly assuming, having not seen the MACISTE Avenger. For the two films cruelly press-ganged into franchise eulogy service are Maciste vs. the Headhunters and Maciste vs. the Monsters. Now, I haven’t seen the latter (unavailable), but I maintain that the former is among the worst of its kind. Not to mention, while Lucidi had the common sense to reuse two Herculi with the SAME actor, these Macistes seem chosen at random, starring, respectively, Kirk Morris and Reg Lewis. Forget howall these actor/strongmen are one and the same; there is no way switching actors around like Heath Ledger in The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus (only without that Gilliam-esque artisty) could work.

And there’s no English version of this thing either.

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Such covers, to my inestimable gratitude, the conclusion of the ‘60s peplum trend, with its glut of needless crossovers (which necessitated this interminable blog exercise in the first place). This is now the epilogue. Cinematic subgenres come and go in cycles; sword-and-sandals films existed prior to 1958’s Hercules, and would exist again afterwards.

Sticking briefly with Maciste…Only two more movies have emerged since 1965 with his name. These are not a part of the central franchise; besides, they are genuinely lost films. Both are the products of Spain’s über-crud-meister Jesus Franco, because when you need cinema which makes Italy seem like France, Spain is your man! Franco’s reputation is noxious, equivalent to the worst “Ed Woods” of various nations. And his Macistes? The Erotic Exploits of Maciste in Atlantis and Maciste vs. the Amazon Queen, both with Val Davis as Maciste (and each shot as one solo movie, then split up in another marvelous example of producers milking their products dry).

No more Macistes have followed, not even in Italy, the world’s only place where that name holds any sway. But seeing as Hercules derives from antiquity, whereas Maciste hails from 1914, it makes sense the one name would persist beyond the other.

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Hercules, the name and mythological (i.e. non-copyrightable) character, reappears with frequency fairly often. Consider the incomparable Arnold Schwarzenegger himself, early in his bodybuilding career when he was in serious danger of getting lost in the wilderness like his he-man forbears, in 1970’s Hercules in New York.

It was also Schwarzenegger who inadvertently reignited the peplum’s second wave of the 1980s, with his Conan the Barbarian. Soon Hercules returned again, now played by Lou “The Incredible Hulk” Ferrigno, in Hercules and Hercules II. By now, the formula which defined the ‘60s movement was long ago abandoned, and the nouveaux pepla are more “barbarian” than “Roman” – reflecting the general temperament of the ‘80s. So different were these movies, they fall under the wholly distinct term of “swords-and-sorcery.”

Toga movies evolved still, as mainstream, big Hollywood made Braveheart, leading to Gladiator, Troy, Beowulf, 300, and more such films I don’t want to list. These have more to do with Spartacus and Ben-Hur, films which were the impetus for the ‘60s Hercules craze to begin with. And with the only recent major “Hercules” being Disney’s in 1997, we’re well beyond the scope of our original discussion. And totally done with this branch of cinema. I’m out!



RELATED POSTS
• No. 1 Hercules (1958)
• No. 2 Hercules Unchained (1959)
• 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)

Hercules, No. 18 - Hercules and the Princess of Troy (1965)

With the accursed peplum subgenre coming to a long overdue end in the mid ‘60s, producers wishing to somehow do something more with the form had two options. One involved accepting the inevitable, and making however many more cheapos you could, to make that final scant lira. The other approach is more far-reaching, a desperate gambit to unnaturally extend the format’s lifeblood via some revolutionary method. Hercules and the Princess of Troy falls into that latter camp. It does not succeed.

American producer Joseph E. Levine, the man responsible for the original U.S. distribution of the codifying Hercules and Hercules Unchained (and therefore the one responsible for this entire peplum mess), took it upon his not inconsiderable shoulders to do something worthwhile with the “Hercules” name, after so many Italians had squandered it in stagnation. Forget cinematic strongmen! Levine accepted Herc’s new place in the entertainment firmament and instead tried to create a TV show, “Hercules.” Not a wholly ridiculous notion, considering how successful the much later Sam Raimi-produced Kevin Sorbo “Hercules” proved to be, even spinning off into the more epic “Xena: Warrior Princess.”

But that bit of chintzy ‘90s sub-Syfy CGI-monster cheez had the benefit of distance from the ‘60s pepla, which had worn out audience acceptance through sheer multitude. Conceivably, Levine envisioned his never-to-be “Hercules” as a successor to “The Sons of Hercules,” that TV hybrid which got so many undeserving pepla U.S. viewership. And a pilot (“The Princess of Troy”) was made, under the same Italian machine which was so lamentably prolific, directed (oddly enough) by a non-Italian, Albert Band. His is a notorious name, as the elder Band sired Charles Band, founder of Full Moon and Puppetmaster profiteer. But before that, the elder Band directed his own brand of dreck: I Bury the Living, Grand Canyon Massacre, Prehysteria!, Dracula’s Dog, Ghoulies II…He even produced Troll, and anyone even indirectly connected to Troll 2 is worthy of being immortalized in song.


This “Hercules” pilot became one of many which wasn’t picked up. Credit peplum burnout. But ever the moneyman, Levine did not let his product languish. Despite a mere 47 minute running time, Hercules and the Princess of Troy was released into cinemas as an honest-to-goodness movie (the graveyard of failed TV), and with the blessing of Italy’s Hercules producers, it officially became the penultimate entry in the series.

That connection to television, and a mightily truncated running time, provide Princess of Troy with enough distinction to be at least not like all the others…as we’ll see.


Gordon Scott plays Hercules with as little distinction as any of the other guys. We’ve seen this guy before in Maciste vs. the Vampire and Maciste in the Court of the Great Khan (or at least we’ve desultorily glanced over those entries). He was even in a proper Hercules, Hercules Against the Molock, though that unseen episode was about a Hercules impersonator, so…so Scott never really essayed the Hercules role until Princess of Troy, hoping beyond hope it’d become a regular thing for him here.

Actually, certain elements are obviously products of a television concept, such as intended once-per-episode events, and a supporting cast which is underutilized for the time being, never to be seen again. The regular setting would be Hercules’ “shipboat” Olympia, as he sails home to Thebes from…wherever. This affords a reusable set, this cheap, cheap, cheap shipboat with gigantic “H,” a delivery system for assorted one-off adventures.

Accompanying Hercules are Ulysses (Mart Hulswit) and Diogenes (Paul Stevens), neither of whom get much of a chance to make any impression here. They’re seemingly counters to Hercules’ brawn. Ulysses is – I’m just assuming based on the ancient hero’s reputation – the brainiac. Diogenes is the inventor, able to technobabble out whatever random concoction the plot demands, like Gadget Hackwrench or one of the characters from “The A-Team” I am unfamiliar with.

An omnipresent narrator fills us in on all this and much more, connecting the narrative tissue they just couldn’t be bothered to actually script. For as inelegant a device as this is, in peplum terms it is highly welcome, as it cuts through the stilted chaff, compressing a standard eventless hour and a half into something digestible. A shorter peplum is automatically a better peplum, surely at this late stage.

This, and regularly spaced commercial blocks, are relics of Princess of Troy’s TV origins. Another relic is the surprisingly high quality of the visuals, compared to the accidental sepia tone which plagues most of the genre. I don’t know if copies of this movie were preserved via some other means, one used for failed TV pilots, but whatever it is, it’s far more effective than leaving film reels out in the mud to be trod upon by gypsies, or whatever it is they do in Italy.



With all that effort gone into merely creating series tropes, little time is left over for the plot-of-the-week. Just as well. That takes place at Troy, and I’ve spent altogether too much brain power trying to reconcile a Ulysses/Troy story that has nothing to do with “The Iliad.” But the continued combination of Hercules and Ulysses in peplum after peplum is already very confusing, mythologically, so leaving that scab largely unpicked for now…

In a welcome change of pace from the more pedestrian pepla, Princess of Troy returns to the strongest notion in the entire Italian sword-and-sandals playhouse: the giant, rubbery monster. These things were staples of the early Herculeses, full-scale dragons featuring in The Revenge of Hercules and Hercules vs. the Hydra. On whatever generosity that is a mid-‘60s TV pilot budget, Princess of Troy offers up another life-size beastie, a ridiculous sea monster. The scenario is straight out of Clash of the Titans (either version, I’m sure; I’ve only seen the Harryhausen one): To appease the rampaging behemoth, the Trojans make the occasional virgin sacrifice, comely maidens lashed to the sea rocks like so many Andromedas. For whatever reason, monsters all prefer the delicious taste of virgin. If I were a buxom Trojan harlot (a wholly unlikely suggestion), I’d just have some sex and avoid the problem.

So Hercules has an hour’s worth of television, minus ads, to resolve Troy’s beast issue. Because Diogenes can exposit out an eventual solution with ease, they gotta eat up time in some other way. Cue, wholly unoriginally, a vicious tyrant (Steve Garrett as Half-King Petra) looking to wrest total power of the kingdom. To that end, he wishes the “accidental” death of the titular princess, who is for some confused and ignorant reason called Diana instead of Helen (Diana Hyland – ah hah, they were just reusing the actress’ name!). The nonsense that follows is of no value, suffice it to say that in the final act, Diana is lashed to the rock awaiting slobbery aquatic monsterism.

Hercules’ inevitable duel with the creature is undoubtedly the saving grace of Princess of Troy (and also the Princess of Troy). Not only is the thing fully articulated, with a range of motion that’d make Stan Winston’s alien queen from Aliens envious, but they are entirely generous with the atrocity’s screen time. Band, as an American director, doesn’t subscribe to that idiotic Italian notion that all battles must be as unintelligible as possible. None of that barely-there lion fight nonsense here! We get lengthy, unedited, wide shots of Hercules actually interacting with the monstrosity. And check that thing out!


Actually, the beast is so impressive, a single pic cannot contain its awesomeness!


Okay, we still need a few more!




Hercules triumphs, to no one’s surprise except Petra’s (who’s conveniently roasted into a Cajun crisp in the burning ocean – whuh?!), as Troy is not only freed of its irritating monster infestation, but they get weeks’ worth of tasty beast briskets as a result. The movie ends, as any good TV pilot must, with the promise or more and greater adventures to come. And with ridiculous cheesy laughter. Upon Princess of Troy’s theatrical release, surely they knew this wasn’t forthcoming. Nonetheless, the narrator rapidly glances over a panoply of untold formula tales, assuring us that whatever we’d consider a happy ending would come eventually – though don’t bother filming it. Then the movie just sort of peters out.

There’s not much to say about Hercules and the Princess of Troy, as it mostly stands as a curiosity in a franchise that – just – would – not – die. It was the final filmed effort to extend this particular Hercules name a little further, beyond all the laws of nature, and it already represents greater obstinacy than most dying franchises would muster. But somehow even at this stage, even when Italians had stopped filming pepla, it didn’t mean they couldn’t still be made. Still one to go…


RELATED POSTS
• No. 1 Hercules (1958)
• No. 2 Hercules Unchained (1959)
• 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. 19 Hercules the Avenger (1965)

Hercules, Maciste, Samson and Ursus, Nos. 17 & 24 & 5 & 8 - Hercules, Samson, Maciste and Ursus (1964)

This is it. This is, at long last, the GREAT CROSSOVER.

The mightiest of all pepla, conceptually at least, has a name, as lugubrious as one would expect of this genre: Hercules, Samson, Maciste and Ursus (for now on, HSM&U). If that doesn’t say more efficiently than any other possible name “This is a crossover of Hercules, Samson, Maciste and Ursus,” I don’t know what does? (Though it could have added a “vs.” or three.)

This movie’s alternate U.S. title is Samson and the Mighty Challenge, which not only hides any sense of grandiosity, but unfairly marks the thing out as belonging to the frail, emaciated Samson franchise alone.


The idea of combining three of the greatest peplum heroes, and also Ursus, into a single definitive rumble has a certain lizard-like appeal (it’s also attractive to fans of the overtly homoerotic). It would be even more exciting if these four cinematic musclemen were anything more than interchangeable stand-ins for each other, but what’re ya gonna do? Of course, there have already been a few Hercules crossovers, such as with Maciste in Maciste vs. Hercules in the Vale of Woe, and with Samson in Hercules, Samson and Ulysses (spuriously, and not actually a crossover, is the similar Ulysses vs. Hercules). None of these is remotely good, so maybe I shouldn’t be too excited about the prospect of another one with four times the sweaty, glistening muscle. But thank Zeus, Jupiter, Jehovah, or whomever Ursus worships (himself), HSM&U is a fantastically atypical sword-and-sandals!

Don’t get me wrong, it’s still dreadful, near the bottom of the cinematic agora. But at least it comes by these mistakes honestly, forging its own trail of insufficiency rather than just being an uninspired 20th generation copy of Hercules and the Captive Women. I’ve watched in essence the exact same movie every day for the better part of a month, making the rather rancid HSM&U a true godsend. Imagine trying to critique Friday the 13th Part III twenty days in a row; that’s what it’s been like.

Anyway, it can be effectively argued that a crossover doesn’t usually appear until desperation truly sets in. A rule of thumb is the more franchises are in a crossover, the more desperate they are. Look to the crossbreeding of Universal’s monsters, leading eventually to Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, and beyond. (I’d also point out Godzilla free-for-alls like Destroy All Monsters, except such maniacal multi-monster mash-ups became the SOP for Toho.) And surely by late 1964, the accursed Italian peplum craze was truly perishing, already dealt a fatal blow by A Fistful of Dollars and the ascendant Spaghetti Western. Pulling out all the stops, every single major peplum franchise combines here into a hybridized chimera, joining the powers of every series…

Which means HSM&U sucks with the combined magnitude of four mortal pepla.


With a budget paltry even by the standards of Maciste vs. the Headhunters, HSM&U is lucky they could afford a single marquee-name bodybuilding superstar. They did in fact get one, as Alan Steel draws the long gladius and plays Hercules (having only fist essayed that particular role earlier that year, in Hercules Against Rome). This leaves the other three lugs relegated to no-name he-men, obscure even by the standards of this forgotten trend. But we’ll get to those.

For now, Hercules is shown wandering with characteristic aimlessness, until Zeus’ voice booms down from the clouds with moral guidance. You’d be totally surprised to learn this is actually the first peplum I’ve seen which directly invokes Zeus, or any of that puffy cloud and lightning imagery. And lest we think this is one of those compromised American dubs, where Maciste is rechristened “Hercules” since non-Italians don’t know aught about Maciste, remember everyone is in this one, so when they say “Hercules,” they damn well mean “Hercules.” And Alan Steel is Hercules!

Hercules highs his way to the kingdom of Lydia – and don’t even bother trying to redress that Spanish coastal town as something that isn’t 20th century, guys! Around now I start to notice something funny (and not “ha ha” funny) about HSM&U…It is a comedy! OH…NO! Vale of Woe, the earliest such crossover (and the dead worst peplum I’ve seen, possibly excepting Ursus, the Terror of the Kirghiz) also tried to be a comic peplum, and was about as humorous as wildly bleeding hemorrhoids. But somehow HSM&U manages to work in spite of itself (though my standards are ridiculously lowered at this stage), never achieving “humor” but at least totally eschewing hateful, hair-pulling worthlessness. It seems built upon actual genre observation, noting especially its heroes’ personality flaws.

Consider Hercules, a boastful ass who lets everyone within earshot know at every possible moment about his demigodhood, how he achieves the Nietzschean ideal (though a B.C. he-man wouldn’t call it quite that, exactly) and is better than you. Yes, YOU! This is par for the course, which is one reason I’ve silently detested this peplum exercise. But among the characters Herc meets, they all treat him as I would – with anachronistically modern condescension, but with great tact lest he hear them and rip their throats out.

Okay, not every character acts that way – though those that do tip this film’s hand as a would-be comedy. Some people, especially Queen Nemea (Lia Zoppelli) are stupefied in Hercules’ exalted presence, as he prefers. It’s just as well, as this mania drives the plot. For Nemea wishes the Herc to wed her daughter Omphale (Elisa Montés); Omphale is of a sane mindset, and thoroughly opposes this. And would you lookie here! The Italians have discovered that subtle storytelling technique, conflict. Suddenly their stories can movie along naturally!

Omphale, in her struggle to cancel marrying the lunkhead, rigs the local oracle, much as Dreyfus rigged that supercomputer in Curse of the Pink Panther, to demand that first Hercules battle the strongest man on earth. You’ve a one in three chance of guessing this one correctly. It’s Samson (aka שמשון). Despite Hercules’ protestations, he (Hercules) is deemed “not a man” – a common ailment amongst steroid abusers – due to his demigod status. Can you believe they seem to have an actual, functional understanding of Hercules’ mythological history, even if they rather make an intentional hash of the Omphale story? I’d wager (for the first time in any peplum) the writers have done some honest-to-Atlas research, for the previously-unacknowledged mythological factoids which spring up. Amongst that “useless trivia” is the idea that Samson worships a non-Zeus god, namely Yahweh. Yes, they actually pose the Zeus vs. Our Lord debate, even if it goes nowhere. It goes to show they knew the subtext of these movies (or one subtext, at least, as the “gay” thing is never addressed).

I’m heaping oodles more praise onto HSM&U now than I rather expected to. Time to counterbalance that. There are many problems with HSM&U, and an early purposeless set piece with Hercules reflects that. While emissaries are off to Israel (or wherever) to find Samson, Nemea has Hercules perform odd jobs around the kingdom – an actually funny conceit. In one scene, he’s asked to dredge a ship from the ocean’s floor. Do you like uncut, murky underwater footage? Was Thunderball’s climax too short for you? You’ll love this bit, then, which somehow eschews the light and breezy tone most of HSM&U boasts for one of the worst Feats of Strength™ in the genre.

Add to that the out-of-place soundtrack, which for some reason samples Beethoven’s Fifth every time somebody namedrops Zeus. That’s when it’s not doing a lugubrious, anachronistic sci-fi pastiche, an utterly bizarre bit of tunage I’ve tried to transcribe here: “Bam bam BAM bam bam whoohohohohohoho!”


Meanwhile, emissaries are out scouring whatever wilderness this film crew had available for Samson. Finding a particularly sadistic muscleman in a tavern, they enter to find…Ursus (Yann L’Arvor). What, Ursus?! Already?!

Yann L’Arvor…This is just the start of uninspiring casting for the non-Hercules semi-Herculeses.

Ursus is blessed with the sort of personality flaws I’ve always associated with Charles Atlas and his sheep-like followers, namely Ursus is a bully. Though HSM&U uses Ursus in the same basic way as they do Hercules, it’s impressive how distinctly defined Ursus is. Ursus, as a mortal who’s become strong, is simply mean – an entitled, priggish asshole. If there were sand in this inn, he’d kick it in people’s faces. In a turn of events having nothing to do with the Hercules/Samson debate, the innkeeper sends his own emissary out to succor aid from Maciste. This is all a little random, but anything getting all four together in a halfway sensible way would be.


Let us forget about Ursus for now, as Nemea’s men have just found Samson (Nadir “Baltimore” – nadir indeed!)! With the possible exception of the unseen Hercules, Samson and Ulysses, this is the first Samson movie to get right a few facts about the Biblical Samson – which you’d think would’ve happened sooner. Namely, this Samson is the Biblical Samson, strength coming from his long, rabbi-like hair (yes, the “joke” with Samson is that he’s Jewish), and his love for “the jawbone of an ass” (which is a rather tittersome phrase the more it’s repeated).

And Samson is married…to Delilah (Moira Orfei). And let me take a momentary break to admire Miss Orfei…


Hello, Moira! She is truly the “Queen of the Peplum,” having also starred in (and these are just the ones I’ve considered) Hercules vs. the Hydra, Ursus, Maciste in the Land of the Cyclops, Maciste, the Strongest Man in the World, Ursus in the Valley of the Lions, Zorro vs. Maciste, The Triumph of Hercules. A little more broadly, Moira is known as Italy’s “Queen of the Circus,” and for a nation with a La Strada-like obsession with that institution, you know that means something!

Anyway, back to business. That Samson and Delilah are husband and wife, and bicker constantly like in a bad 1960s sitcom (comedy!), seems a sudden betrayal of the historical respect this goofy mash-up has dabbled in. Though great liberties are taken with the story, I needn’t have worried. Soon enough Delilah shears Samson’s hair as he sleeps, rendering him weak, and perfectly recalling the “Book of Judges.” (This was done to prevent Samson from fighting Hercules, and also schtupping the various known whores of Lydia.) With Samson now weak and cowardly and also beardless, his joke becomes just how worthless these bodybuilder types are when not God Mode Sues.

Back to Ursus! He terrorizes the bar more (actually, he never stopped), ordering people to “Dance!” like a villain in a western. To quote him:

“I SAID DANCE. I WAAAAANT MOOORE WIIIIINE. WWWWWIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNEEEEEEE!!!!!”

The great shitheel even takes to hurling people, inexplicably accompanied every danged time by a comedy slide whistle. But the time has come to pay for his Ursine crimes, as along comes the last of our required he-men, Maciste (Howard Ross). Maciste thrashes Ursus, and there was much rejoicing.


As contrast to the irredeemable buffoons that are the other three, Maciste’s persona is his innate decency, which becomes funny wholly by contrast. I’m glad they could work out unique traits for all these musclemen, seeing usually they’re all just off-brand Herculeses.

The emissaries behold Maciste’s Macistean strength – in fact, they note everyone’s comic book muscularity – and opt to take pretty much everyone back to Lydia as insurance seeing as Samson is a sissy girly man now. Everyone has different motives in the inevitable, upcoming Clash of the Four Interchangeable Guys, in an attempt to be a French farce. It doesn’t quite succeed – frankly, nothing in HSM&U is good – but there’s still the effort, and the intention behind it – and that goes a long way in my peplum-addled state. What does it say that this, the best movie I’ve seen in over a week, has a 2.2 on IMDb?

…

Okay, my fat neighbor is having an argument that’d make Hitler weep. She’s fat, loud and vulgar in the best of times, meaning today she’s fatter, louder and more vulgar than ever. I can’t deal with this, not when I wish to simply enjoy horrible movies in peace. I’m going for a nice stroll in the rain.

[Sound of me walking out of the apartment, locking up.]

[Sound of me going down the stairs.]

[Intensely long sound of nothing more than my fat neighbor’s furtive screeching echoing throughout a vacant unit.]

[Many hours later, sound of me ascending the stairs.]

[Sound of me entering my apartment, drying off, resuming Herculean pleasantries.]

Sorry about all that, folks.


Ursus, Maciste, Samson and the emissaries start the trek back to Lydia. Occasional slapstick fights break out, courtesy of Ursus. These somehow result in Blair Witch Project close-ups (also really pixilated) of various bearded men racing through the woods. Really, imagery like this belongs nowhere in an alleged comedy. This signals, for all HSM&U’s noble intentions, a notable dearth of competence, as the badness starts to creep into this effort as it must all late-period pepla.

Lydia is reached, and preparations are underway for the Rumble in the Agora, with assorted soap opera dramatics from Omphale ensuring all four shall tussle for our amusement. It won’t be that straightforward, since for reasons owing solely to the film’s running length, we suddenly meet neighboring tyrant King Inor (Luciano Marin). In a movie that’s shunned the usual tired peplum formulae, this left-field Third Act villain is most unwelcome. Despite the sudden appearance of Deianeira, another of Hercules’ assorted mythological harlots (who does not serve that purpose here), I’ll leave this section alone, as it might cause me unfathomable dismay.

Rather, I’ll skip right on over to the title fight, which duly occurs as though that last paragraph hadn’t happened at all. It’s a pretty sloppy affair (making it still one of the more cogent clashes in the genre), and it’s not a good sign that the pic below is the absolute best image from the whole ordeal.


Then things end with a literal deus ex machina, as Zeus just up and appears (via a ridiculous face-in-a-wall) to tell everyone to just stop and move along. This story wasn’t going to resolve itself anyway, and if I’m being generous I’d say “The Odyssey” ends in the exact same way. The four strongmen ride on, conflict over and nothing gained.

Hercules, Samson, Maciste and Ursus may as well stand as the final monument to an entire dying genre, for as atypical as it is. For the Samson franchise, this was the end. For Ursus, only 3 Avengers remained, and I’ve already saved time by dismissing that one out of hand. Only one more Maciste was to come, which I’ll halfway address in two days. Hercules alone was able to manage two more movies after this, which is appropriate since Hercules was e’er the torch-holder for the pepla, the originator and the best. It is with those two final entries that we shall bid farewell to this era.


RELATED POSTS
• The Silent Maciste Franchise (1914 - 1927)
• Hercules No. 1 Hercules (1958)
• Hercules No. 2 Hercules Unchained (1959)
• Hercules No. 3 The Revenge of Hercules (1960)
• Hercules No. 4 Hercules vs. the Hydra (1960)
• Maciste No. 1 Maciste in the Valley of the Kings (1960)
• Maciste No. 2 Maciste vs. the Headhunters (1960)
• Hercules No. 5 Hercules and the Conquest of Atlantis (1961)
• Hercules No. 6 Hercules id the Haunted World (1961)
• Maciste No. 3 Maciste in the Land of the Cyclops (1961)
• Maciste No. 6 Maciste, the Strongest Man in the World (1961)
• Hercules & Maciste Nos. 7 & 7 Maciste Against Hercules in the Vale of Woe (1961)
• Ursus No. 1 Ursus (1961)
• Ursus No. 2 Vengeance of Ursus (1961)
• Hercules No. 8 Ulysses vs. Hercules (1962)
• Hercules No. 9 The Fury of Hercules (1962)
• Maciste Nos. 8 - 20 (1962 - 1964)
• Hercules No. 10 Hercules, Samson and Ulysses (1963)
• Maciste No. 21 Maciste vs. the Mongols (1963)
• Hercules No. 12 Hercules in the Land of Darkness (1964)
• Hercules No. 16 Hercules and the Tyrants of Babylon (1964)
• Maciste No. 22 Maciste in Genghis Khan's Hell (1964)
• Maciste No. 23 Maciste and the Queen of Samar (1964)
• Ursus No. 7 Ursus, the Terror of the Kirghiz (1964)
• Hercules No. 18 Hercules and the Princess of Troy (1965)
• Hercules No. 19 Hercules the Avenger (1965)

Hercules, No. 16 - Hercules and the Tyrants of Babylon (1964)

But first, a couple I didn’t see!


Hercules Against Rome (1964) welcomes Alan Steel into the Hercules fold for the first time, his apparent reward (like so many mid-level musclemen) for doing a meagerly halfway adequate job in Samson vs. the Black Pirate. He’s also been Maciste a few times. Oddly, this is but one of two times Steel plays mighty Hercules, the other being the upcoming (eventually) GREAT CROSSOVER.

Hercules Against Rome takes as its “draw” the notion that Hercules has now traveled for the first time ever from ancient Greece to ancient Rome. Wait…all this time I thought he was in Rome. Eh, mythologically these things are a thorough wash, a complete bastardization of a 4,000 year block of history. And once Herc reaches a relatively anachronistic land of Caesars and praetorians and almost certainly more damned lions, it’s just the same peplum nonsense as usual: Overly complex political intrigue, with the usual cast of losers in minor roles.


The same year saw Hercules Against the Sons of the Sun – good thing that wasn’t a “Son of Hercules” episode, or it’s be Son of Hercules Against the Sons of the Sun’s Sons’ Son, or something. Anyway, this one has Mark Forest in it, pretty much the mascot of the Maciste movies, making his…second Hercules appearance. Sort of. Hercules vs. the Hydra was an illegitimate French production, so in a sense this is his only Herc work. Not that it ever makes any difference, as we’ve noted so very much.

Sons of the Sun seems set to serve the same sucky story as several similar such sword-and-sandals scenarios. Political intrigue, a seductress, a princess in trouble, yadda yadda yadda. As with so many of these damned late period pepla, the lone unique element is a change of setting. In this, it’s the Incas. But this barely even counts for an aesthetic change any more, as the same sets and costumes keep getting recycled. This is undoubtedly now a dying genre, making no serious effort to preserve itself.

And now for the main event!


Hercules and the Tyrants of Babylon (also 1964, because when you’re dying, at least scattershot out your sequels as prolifically as possible) also pulls the immaterial location switch…to Babylon! It also features a new superstar as Hercules. Man, none of these late Herculeses has any actorly consistency, possibly due to how rapidly they were vomiting them out, and possibly because the series is just that bad.

Anyway, meet Peter Lupus. The kid from The Bad News Bears?! No, idiot, Willy Armitage from TV’s “Mission: Impossible.” How ‘bout that, a rare post-peplum success story! Continuing on, Lupus let his dingle dangle in “Playgirl” for all the world’s perverted women to see. More recently, an aging Lupus (that sounds like a disease) has basically become the real world equivalent of Uncle Jack from “Arrested Development,” lifting 1 million pounds in 20 minutes on his birthday (citation needed). At 78, Lupus is still in better shape than any of us will ever be.

But in the early ‘60s, Lupus was only known for Tyrants of Babylon and Muscle Beach Party, where he is alternately credited as Rock Stevens, “Mr. Galaxy,” Flex Martian, aka “the biggest, strongest, and handsomest bodybuilder in the galaxy, possessing muscles of steel.” That succinctly encapsulates the entire brain-dead mentality behind this cockamamie muscleman craze! But as a performer, Lupus is adequate, surely no thespian in overall terms, but someone with a minimum of screen presence unlike most of his fellow brainless dumbbell jockeys. There’s no specific quality we can point to, except for a lack of badness.


The same can go for Tyrants of Babylon. It suffers as do all the other late pepla from an overly familiar storyline and premise, and surely after watching so many in a short time frame, I am feeling the same fatigue audiences of the ‘60s likely felt. But Pazuzu be praised, Tyrants knows its formula well enough to be decent, with every element good. Directing (Domenico Paolella, dry of thought after Ursus, the Rebel Gladiator and Goliath at the Conquest of Damascus), acting, setting, script, even the budget is beyond the weekly allowance level most other ’64 pepla are saddled with.

And for perhaps the genre’s first time, the complex political intrigue is actually intriguing.

The key is that Tyrants is told with clarity, and a minimum of overt idiocy, a great rarity. First we have Babylon, naturally, and don’t worry, there’s no tiresome conflict over who gets to rule. At least, not as we usually find. Rather, Babylon is governed by three siblings, cruel tyrant Salman Osar (Livio Lorenzon), alluring seductress Taneal (Helga Liné), and the other one. For the time being, they’re pretty cool with each other, as their goal remains the same: Sending soldiers into outlying lands to amass slaves for their great public works projects. Really, it oughta be easier to just hire a contractor!


That’s because Hercules (Lupus, natch) is out there in the wilderness disrupting Babylon’s perfectly legal person stealing. But for once Herc has a reason for nearing today’s contentious kingdom, for one of those slaves already in bondage is his queen (it’s unclear if she’s his wife or ruler, though some henpecked types would argue there’s no difference), Hesperia (Anna Maria Polani). Herc aims to reclaim her, and bring glory back to the Hellenes – that being Hesperia’s kingdom. In the meanwhile, let us stand content as Herc smacks the bejesus out of extras in perfect Teddy Roosevelt style: speaking softly and carrying a big stick.

So far, nothing in Tyrants is blowing my skirt up, gentlemen. Surprisingly, the movie starts to earn its keep by introducing a third party, adding more complexity into its narrative which would already be incompetently presented. Enter the Assyrians, represented by the frankly rather annoying King Phaleg (Mario Petri), who bestows gifts rather too slowly upon the Babylonian overlords. At long last he reveals his intent, that these gifts are to be in exchange for all of Babylon’s slaves, and with them, the two kingdoms forge an alliance.

Queen Taneal aims to discover Phaleg’s game the only way a seductress knows how: through seduction. With all other overused elements, the seductress character is fast losing her charm, so credit to Helga Liné for making her as enticing as possible in these tired genre conditions. She’s no Chelo Alonso, but she ain’t bad.


Utilizing a little Serum of Truthiness (it’s been a while since we’ve had a decent plot juice), Phaleg reveals to Taneal, and without her knowing also to Salman Osar and the other one, what he intends. Among the slaves is Hesperia – Okay, we know this one already. Phaleg intends to dredge her up upon acquiring the slaves, then marry her in order to forge an allegiance with the Hellenes (i.e. Greeks). The Hellenes are mighty and unconquerable, and this allegiance through matrimony becomes the grand prize everyone fights over in place of a more traditional throne. Mired this deep in formula stagnation, that counts for a lot.

Phaleg is dismissed sans slaves. Meanwhile the Babylonian sibling trio (that sounds like a reggae band) considers discovering Hesperia themselves. And now let the complex betrayals and double crosses and whatnots begin! Each brother separately wants to marry Hesperia, while Taneal just wants her dead – we learn later on about her own plans for a single-ruler Babylon, with universal healthcare.

Through some amazing quirk of fate, these various sub-motives are actually easy to follow. I’ve a few theories on that. One I’ll examine now…There is an honest to goodness theme in this Hercules! Betrayal! It’s nothing fancy, like in your art house flicks, but still…


Meanwhile, let us not discount Phaleg yet, and his role to play in this complex tale of counter-intrigues. Going forth, his men randomly enter a skirmish with some Babylonian soldiers – there is no great reason for this except the need for occasional action sequences. Simple Hercules leaps into the fray and rescues Phaleg – he’s learned via an escaped slave subplot already that the Babylonians are the baddies holding his Hesperia.

Now, without revealing it, Phaleg knows Hercules knows who Hesperia is, that he’s the only jerk in all of the Middle East who could know. So he charges Herc with entering Babylon and sniff her out. Of course, Phaleg knows Hercules has his own intents upon Hesperia (you start to sense women’s rights wasn’t a big issue back then), but he arranges for his henchmen to kill Hercules once she’s been identified. Never mind the impossibility of that request, at least we have a betrayal to chalk up to Phaleg now.


Meanwhile, the Babylonians are attempting a more…direct approach to discover Hesperia’s identity. They’ve bound all their slaves up to posts in the sun in just about the laziest crucifixion I’ve ever seen. (They call this a paid holiday – those slave drivers have a sense of humor!) The person who spills Hesperia’s beans is promised freedom, which is usually villain talk for “I shall kill you.” At last Hesperia herself cannot stand it, and shouts out “I am Spartacus!” No, wait…”I am Hesperia!” Yeah. And everyone else claims to be Spartacus, er, Hesperia as well. So that didn’t work.

But by now they know Hercules is coming to town, because a strong, clothesless braggart has a hard time keeping a low profile. Putting the same two and two together as Phaleg, they themselves decide to let Hercules lead ‘em to Hesperia, then kill him – yeah, see how that works out for ya. But for now, this involves casually inviting Hercules to the palace, wining and dining him, and letting Taneal try out the old seduction, which always starts around 5/8ths of the way through the movie. At least this time it makes sense for both characters to be involved in such a cliché. It’s like The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (why am I referencing that here?!); Herc knows something, Taneal knows something, each wants what the other knows. Yeah, this is nothing groundbreaking in the world of screenwriting, but for a peplum this is shattering.

Ah, but meanwhile Hercules must perform a Feat of Strength™. No reason, Salman Osar just wants to see Hercules grease himself up and take on five equally groin-clothed rippling he-men at once. Interpret that how you like, Sigmund. It really turns out the duel is an assassination attempt which – too soon guys! (Hercules survives.)


Hercules briefly enjoys Taneal’s sultry company, but somehow she never thinks of using her truth goo. Shortly later, once the shot clock on this formula element has run out, Hercules jaunts on down to the cells, performs another few Feats of Strength™, and finds Hesperia all on his own, thank you very much. Quickly peeking at the remaining running time, Hercules announces he cannot rescue her just yet, and then he runs off.

The time for complicated back stabbing is now, and I’m not going to stretch myself trying to explicate it all. Let’s just say that once Tyrants is over, everyone who is not explicitly a good guy has tried to kill Hercules, and Hercules has successfully killed every last one of them.

Actually, Hercules is a bit of a genocidal maniac in this. (Well, he is in several of his films; Tyrants just highlights an ongoing problem.) Whilst Herc is puttering around in those standard peplum caverns I’ve now seen like 16 times, waiting for the running time to be right, he spies Taneal talking about this great big old winch to her lackey. See, as a part of Taneal’s grant master plan to wrest control of Babylon away from her brothers, she’s going to destroy Babylon!...This makes very little sense on the surface, so you know it’s a big deal when I continue to call this among the more sensibly plotted of all Herc flicks.

Now, about every Hercules has some doomsday machine towards the end, something Herc can perform a Feat of Strength™ on, then resolve like that [snap]. These rarely make sense. Tyrants’ is a doozy of illogic – most sensible Hercules movie! For the entirety of Babylon is connected together with chains, all joined at a gigantic winch. If 100 slaves (or 1 Hercules) should turn it, all of Babylon with crumble. Why design something like that?! In Taneal’s sudden zest for vacant exposition, she explains ‘twas Daedelus, designer of the Labyrinth, who cleverly made this thing. Suuuuuuure. And the “justification” is since Babylon’s in the desert, this is its “foundation.” I’ve taken some structural engineering courses, and none of this follows.


Oh well. Once Taneal’s out of range, have decided that eventually she’d like that winch turned, Hercules just goes and turns it anyway. This is while, in assorted subplots, Taneal has dragged Hesperia off into the desert herself, and committed double fratricide while she was at it. It made sense at the time. Anyway, it matters not, for Hercules delivers a big destruction set piece for the climax, a scene of Babylon’s fall which still somehow cannot compare to the chintzy efforts of 1914’s Cabiria.


What’s shocking about this is how Hercules in essence murders the tens of thousands of innocent people, just so as to minorly inconvenience Taneal (she’s still alive…for now). Lucky thing his dad, Zeus, pretty much defines morality in this world.

Then Hercules head on over to that place where Taneal and Hesperia and Phaleg all are. There is actually a reasonably epic battle scene going on, involving in turn the armies of Babylon, Assyria, and even the slaves. For a 1964 sword-and-sandals, this thing had a budget!

And, just before Hercules goes and murders him too, Phaleg betrays Hercules. But Hercules betrays Phaleg first (this movie is betrayal happy). Phaleg calls him out on this, but Hercules cites some sort of iffy legal precedent for why his particular betrayal doesn’t count. Man, the Herc is in quite a morally grey area! But since his name is in the title, and might makes right, it is good he survives, along with Hesperia and a handful of spies, with at least one not actually evil empire destroyed. All in a day’s Herc work.

Between things like the evident budget, and a script with at least some effort put into it, Hercules and the Tyrants of Babylon is perhaps the last great effort of the Hercules producers. Though they put out enough Hercules films in 1964 for every other month (there were 6 of them), the only real attention seems to have gone here. They might as well have found a different tactic. With the desperation of this release schedule, the bottom was falling out of the peplum market. For as adequate as Tyrants is, it isn’t a scratch on the better Hercules efforts from earlier. It is altogether too beholden to formula, its genre doomed. So take it as the final noble effort of a bygone movement.

But there were other frantic tactics still to be tried…

Next up: Hercules does another goddamn crossover with Maciste. And not just any goddamn crossover. The GREAT goddamn CROSSOVER! And by “GREAT,” I mean four franchises! Samson, we’ve seen, Hercules we’ve now made it through. That leaves the need to visit two more…Maciste first, then an entirely new franchise, Ursus. Bring it on!


RELATED POSTS
• No. 1 Hercules (1958)
• No. 2 Hercules Unchained (1959)
• 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. 17 Hercules, Samson, Maciste and Ursus (1964)
• No. 18 Hercules and the Princess of Troy (1965)
• No. 19 Hercules the Avenger (1965)