Hercules (1958) P2

For Part 1, click here.

OK, seriously now, the movie:

As I've already lamented, it's a pity that the story of such an influential Hercules movie isn't, you know, a story about Hercules, that the filmmakers decided to shove a Hercules movie into Jason's story instead of telling a story that's actually about Hercules. The question of who really is the hero, Hercules or Jason, results in a bit of narrative schizophrenia, a disorder exacerbated by a couple of threads Hercules picks up and then randomly drops, sometimes in favor of chuckles and sometimes just because. You start to wonder how much writing they were doing as they filmed. The general disarray probably isn't helped by the dubbing, which is not the worst but certainly not the best I've heard. I can only hope for the sake of Italian cinema that the dubbing is responsible for some of the most awkward dialogue I've ever heard. If  you've never seen the same movie dubbed and also in subtitles (or in subtitles, but in a foreign language you actually know), then you might be surprised to find out how much a film can be changed in translation. (Or maybe you wouldn't. Maybe you have a degree in comparative literature or linguistics. I don't really know you.)

Dr. Chomsky…? Is that you out there?

Get out of my head!

Language aside, the filmmakers were certainly shooting for the kind of scale that makes for good peplum. The opening credits and prologue give a great introduction to the feel of the film. They're really trying to tell an epic, and they're doing so pretty goofily, which is classic peplum in a nutshell.

Does that read to anyone else like it was being typed just as it appeared on the screen?

So the world is also immense and immortal? I suppose I do think of the myths of ancient Greece as timeless. Is that what they meant? Will the bigness and immortality of the world be important to the plot of this movie?

OK…

To be clear, this "mortal weakness" thing is not going to be important. However, we do get the sense here that we're about to be introduced to a big story, maybe with a complicated plot, and that Hercules might just learn something. All three of those choices—size, complications, and a lesson—are interesting. OK, size is a given. Peplum is all about the scale of the tale. But the other two ideas here, the complications and the learning, are worth noting—especially, again, given that this is such a landmark movie. Jason's story, all the political intrigue, is a little more complicated than the monster-of-the-week plots that comprise much of the Hercules oeuvre. Also, Hercules rarely learns anything. Hercules isn't really about the learning. He's more about the killing of monsters and any humans who happen to piss him off.

…No.

 If this characterization of Hercules is one of the benefits of blowing up his part in Jason's story, the downside is that the writers don't really know what to do with the first half of the story. Argonautica movies, like a lot of hero stories, are natural two-parters. First there's Part 1, in which the hero finds out he's a hero and prepares for his adventure. Then there's Part 2, in which the hero goes on a quest. Usually the first part is the shorter of the two, but not here. Hercules takes an hour to get the Argo in the water. (See, now the structure of this review is starting to make sense.) Turning Part 1 of Jason's story into "Hercules' quest for Jason" was the compromise the writers made to shoehorn in your favorite lummox and mine.

The change from "setup and execution" to "quest 1 and quest 2" not only reduces the amount of time spent on the sea with the Argo—which is the fun stuff in pretty much any Argonautica adaptation—it also ups the time spent on political intrigue, a choice with its own problems for a Hercules flick.

Again, no.

 The choice also poses problems for a reviewer. The episodic nature of quest narratives threatens to turn any review into a recap, but it's especially difficult to rein in the retelling when there are just so many segments of the film that want attention.

The adjustments to the story start soon. In the original story, Hercules comes to town in order to sail on the Argo. You see, nobody throws a hero party without the H man. But now Hercules needs some other reason to be in Jolco. In fact, he has a couple, and only one of them is political.

Jolco. Come for the political intrigue. Stay for the ladies.

To their credit, the writers try to use Herc's hangin’-around time to deepen the characters of both Iole and Hercules and make their obligatory love story more interesting. Plus, you could probably come up with a decent drinking game organized around the dialogue and action’s alternation between sorta-feminist turns and blatant misogyny.

Iole starts off the first scene of the movie when her chariot horses go wild and are about to drag her off a cliff (your drink, ladies). Hercules rescues her, and she immediately faints in his arms (another drink for the women). When she awakes, he begins to hit on her immediately, and she calls him on his loutish behavior (your turn, men). She's also pretty clearly into the brute (ok, fair enough, the women playing this game had better have hollow legs). They're no Tracy and Hepburn, but the couple establish a bit of back-and-forth, and Iole provides us and Herc with some useful exposition.

First, she tells us why Herc is there: to train her brother, Prince Iphitus, in arms. Pelias is a really unpopular king, and he's sick of reigning. He'd like to step down, but he knows that no one likes Iphitus either. Everyone is plotting to take over if Pelias goes, so his big, obnoxious man-child of a son needs some serious backing to hold on to the throne. Second, Iole lets on that she knows why our favorite muscle man has really come to town; he was a student and friend of Chiron, the Jolcan general who ran away with Jason and the Fleece the night of Aeson's murder. Though she doesn’t want to admit it, Iole is well aware something is rotten in the state of Jolco. She also protests a bit too much when Hercules remarks on rumors of her father’s involvement.

So Hercules has several jobs in Jolco. He's supposed to train Iphitus, keep the locals in check, prove to his own satisfaction that Pelias killed Aeson, and find Jason. And, don't forget, romance the girl. Even with the training, that leaves an awful lot of screen time between feats of strength, so the filmmakers stick in two beast fights. First, Herc kills a lion that's been plaguing Jolco. Then, on the way to find Jason, Herc takes out the Cretan Bull.

Of the three opportunities for Hercing out, I enjoyed the homoerotic athletic training the most.

Shh! Listen close… Can you hear "Unchained Melody"?

There aren't many movies that feature the theremin more than Hercules. Just about every time Herc bends, throws, or kills something, it's accompanied by spooky theremin music, and it gets some of its most memorable uses during the training. The training, which stands in place of the games Jason is said to have held as competition for the spots on the Argo, also gives us a chance to meet the important men of the city, all Argonauts to be. True, most of the players in this mythological superband should be from different city-states, but it's still fun watching giants of legend sit around and chat. Some of the men are ambivalent about Hercules. Laertes and Argo in particular seem to think he's kind of a meathead, though Orpheus thinks otherwise, and Ulysses worships the big lug.

Imagine if someone made a biopic about Alexander Hamilton in which Daniel Boone inspires a young Abraham Lincoln to go into politics. This little exchange is actually right before Hercules gives Ulysses some tips on bowmanship, telling the young hero, "Remember what I'm going to say. Perhaps one day a bow may decide your fate." That's a kneeslapper  if you're a Classics geek.

Getting back to the labors, neither of the beast fights is likely to impress modern filmgoers, but if you appreciate fine B-movie improvisational action choreography, you're in for a treat. In the lion fight—between shots of Hercules and Iphitus struggling with a lionskin rug—there looks to be someone in Herculean garb wrestling with an actual lion. There's also a great reaction shot of Hercules realizing that the lion just killed Prince Man-Child and shit's about to hit the fan with Pelias.

I might have to go back and make another flip book.

Awww, shit.

In fact, Pelias is so angry Hercules didn't keep Iphitus out of the fight with the lion that he punishes him by sending him to kill the Cretan Bull. That leads to another great conversation between Iole and Herc.

HERCULES: Iole, I didn't want to speak out against your father, but his punishment's unfair and his accusation's unjust.

IOLE: Yes, I know. (sobbing) Hercules must listen only to the gods, because he cannot know the suffering of a woman!

HERCULES: Listen to me, Iole.

IOLE: I don't want to! Go away! (She runs away sobbing.)

Man, I hope something was lost in the translation there.

That conversation leads to another, just as awkwardly worded, conversation between Hercules and the prophetess of Jolco called the Sibyl.

HERCULES: Why did Iphitus have to die? Answer me, Sibyl. I cannot understand. I'm greatly confused. A man I could crush with one hand gives me an order! A woman humiliates me.

SIBYL: It is not you who is to blame, Hercules. Iphitus died simply because he was not meant to be king of Jolco. Now the gods assign a new labor to you. They want you to go out and chance your fate against the Cretan Bull.

HERCULES: Enough! I am tired of doing all these senseless things for the gods! When will I be worthy in the eyes of the gods?

SIBYL: The hour of your fate is nearing. Don't rebel against it.

HERCULES: Now listen to me. These changes have happened to me in the last few days: Iole, the way they punished me. All of these things help me to feel in another way. I can't stand being superior. Let me experience the real things, love or hate.

SIBYL: Those are mortal states, Hercules.

HERCULES: If it's my immortality making me unhappy, then I'll do without it.

SIBYL: That's dangerous, Hercules. Don't you know how foolish you'd be to renounce it? To be born a man and see everything die is not to be immortal. Stay as you are. Be a god. Don't exchange immortality for fear, pain, and sorrow.

HERCULES: I want to live like any other mortal man. It's my prayer to have a family. I want children of my own, to see the children growing up.

SIBYL: Pass on, Hercules. It's all as you ask. Now you shall have to confront your future and fight using only your own forces, mortal victories, or you'll be defeated. Now you can kill or be killed by others, since you are no longer a god.

HERCULES: It's all planned, isn't it? I search for the Cretan Bull next.

SIBYL: Follow your destiny, then, wherever you like. Hercules is a man now, and the gods will punish you for your stubbornness. (walks away)

HERCULES: Thank you, Jupiter, for answering my prayer! Now there's a woman to conquer, and battles to win, and the Cretan Bull awaits!

DISEMBODIED VOICE: The Cretan Bull awaits! The Cretan Bull awaits…

This was where I really wished they hadn't made this an Argonauts movie. In the myths, Hercules is plenty mortal, just unbelievably strong. And in the myths (and in the movie so far) he's perfectly capable of human emotion, especially love and hate. Still, it could have been interesting to explore either of these supposed character changes, Herc's apparently new mortality and his emotional depth. I suppose his sudden status as full human was meant to up the ante in the fight with the Cretan Bull in the following scene, but come on; this is Hercules! He's gonna win. And if Francisci wanted Hercules' humanity to be important to us, at least one more mention of it after this scene would have been nice.

I was also taken out of the movie by how much the Cretan Bull looked like a bison. Though, to be fair, even a European bison would have looked pretty weird to the Greeks.

You can't see it in this picture, but he usually wears a monocle.

After finding and fighting the Bull, Hercules meets up with Jason and Chiron. Chiron, mortally wounded by the Bull before Hercules arrived, charges Herc with finishing Jason's education in heroics and putting him on the throne of Jolco. Just to be difficult, Chiron also demands that Jason ascend to the throne without bloodshed. Apparently it is the will of the gods that Jason not seek vengeance. Still, probably just to be contrary, with his last breath Chiron lets slip that the "Golden Fleece knows" who killed Jason's father.

Naturally, on their way back to Jolco, Jason tells Hercules that vengeance is all he thinks about. I find the idea of unvengeful Greek gods about as believable as the music for this scene, which is weirdly sprightly and upbeat for revenge talk. This has got to be a one-of-a-kind event in the history of divine commandments from the Greek gods. We're talking about beings who held killing one's mother as a lesser sin than leaving a father's murder go unavenged. Still, the point is that we have our hero's moral dilemma. And soon we have our purpose for the quest. Upon Hercules' and Jason's return, Pelias says he'll only believe Jason is really Jason if he manages to get the Fleece. All the heroes assemble for the voyage, and there's barely enough time for one last really awkward conversation between Hercules and Iole.

Because it wouldn't be the Argo without a traitor on board, Pelias sends Eurysteus along on the trip as royal saboteur. All Eurysteus asks in payment is one little princess.

Who could possibly guess he's evil?

For the record, it takes Evil Face less than 8 minutes of movie time (one stormy night) to incite a mutiny, his punishment for which is that he gets shipwatching duty when they make landfall and so misses out on the Amazons.

Part 2 of Hercules, the actual voyage and return, has a standard quest structure. First there are the stop-off islands, then the destination island with a monster guarding the prize, and then the return with the final battle. Here, all the stop-off islands are squished down to one, Lemnos, which is where the film places the Amazons.

Nerdy side note: The Amazons' stronghold was Themiscyra, said to be on the Terme River in modern Turkey, not on Lemnos. The original Argonautica does include a stop at the isle of the Amazons, but it's awfully brief. The heroes land, realize where they are, and take off before the Amazons can assemble for battle. The movie’s Amazon section is modeled on the time the Argonauts spent on Lemnos, an island populated by a different tribe of warrior women. This is not the only time the two groups have been conflated.

For purposes of the narrative, the substitution of the Amazons for all the rest of the voyage of the Argonauts doesn't really work. Thematically however, keeping in mind Hercules's interest in gender relations, there's something to be found in the 20 minutes or so that the film spends on Lemnos.

On the surface, it’s a chance to see hot ladies in skimpy clothing, and I can't entirely object to that. I love late-‘50s-style sexism as much as the next guy, and there is some fun to be had with the sexism, particularly with Asclepius, the dirty old man who is just ever so delighted to be on an adventure with Amazons in it. Plus, those weirdly Robin Hood-esque Amazon costumes are neat.

On the one hand, they're no scantier than what Herc usually wears, and peplum is made for ogling.

Everybody gets their fair share of bodies to objectify.

On the other hand...

Look, deadly warriors!

Despite the use of Amazons as eye-candy, the movie makes an effort to continue the gender dialogue initiated by Iole. Here are women who not only are willing to speak up about men's shitty behavior but react violently to it in a way that's arguably justified. I can't help but notice how stupid the Argonauts come off in their chauvinism. The Amazons greet the Argonauts' landing party in the woods with an impressive display of archery, forcing the Greeks to throw down their weapons. Regardless, our heroes remain stupidly unconcerned by the graveyard filled entirely with men or by the stories they tell each other—and the Amazons confirm—about how the Amazons regularly attract men to replenish their number, then kill them. The response of the Argonauts to the constant foreshadowing of their doom is to be as obnoxiously patronizing as possible.

The Amazons lull the Argonauts with a trap even Hansel and Gretel could see through, and yet, before you can snap your fingers, everybody from the landing party seems to be in love. This includes (predictably) Jason and Queen Antea, the only one of the Amazons who seems conflicted about killing her new sperm donor. Jason actually expects the Amazons to try something, but he's confident that Hercules will pull his ass out of the fire. His contribution is limited to making smug remarks.

Luckily, a week into the Argonaut's stay, Ulysses overhears a powwow between Antea and the Amazon elders and learns that the women warriors plan on killing the men that night. Ulysses plots with Hercules to slip the whole lot of them a mickey. While both the Amazons and the Greeks are passed out, Herc (who has kept himself uncharacteristically chaste) carries away the Argonauts. He's helped out by the sad sacks who were left onboard ship while the landing party was whooping it up with the Amazons. Everybody gets back to the Argo just before Evil Face can set sail and abandon them on Lemnos. As the ship leaves, the Amazons play the part of sirens, calling to the lovesick sailors and squeezing in yet another kind of woman onto Lemnos.

If you were going to reduce the voyage of the Argo to one side stop before the Fleece, this is probably the best way to do it, but it still feels like getting short changed. The fact that the Amazons, predatory and thwarted, are the only women we see besides Iole limits rather than expands the thematic scope. The sparseness of the trip hits home when the Argonauts reach their next stop: the only other island on the trip, the Colchides, where Jason finds the fleece and NO MEDEA.

In fact, there are really no Cholchians. There's no city or any sort of society. In this version of Jason's story, the Argonauts find the Fleece hanging from a tree in the open. It is guarded by some very hairy cavemen, whom the Argonauts defeat, and a dragon (the third and final beast fight of the movie), which Jason defeats with a lot of help from the theremin in its most prevalent use since the training scenes. The fight is a mix of bluescreen suitmation and a large tail for Jason to dodge while he aims his spear.

Above: not Medea

The fast motion is a little goofy but the visual is hardly no more jarring than the audio. At some point during the scene, I began to feel theremin-drunk. It's a short fight though, and afterward, our (other) hero finally has the information we've been waiting for. On the back of the Fleece, in blood, are the last words of Aeson, who points the finger at Pelias but asks that no vengeance be taken. Jason, against Hercules' better judgment, decides to honor his father's wishes and forgive his father's murderers. The sail home is uneventful.

Despite having been around for the announcement of his forthcoming pardon, Evil Face pulls a fast one on the other Argonauts and swims ashore with the Fleece while the Argo is sitting just off the coast of Jolco. Hercules goes after him but gets himself imprisoned. The Argonauts arrive then and present Jason as the new king, but without the Fleece they've got to fight for it, and we finally get the battle we've been waiting for. There are many of extras and much clanging of swords. Hercules, broken out of prison, uses his chains to strangle Evil Face and give some pretty hard licks to the palace guards. There's a story around that during filming Reeves was hesitant to really lash out with the chains. When Francisci expressed his irritation with Reeves' un-Herculean restraint, the actor responded that he was worried about hurting the extras. The director reportedly shouted back, "If they don't get hurt, they don't get paid!"

In the film, tearing down some columns in front of Jason's soon-to-be palace is just the final insult. The real kick in the pants comes from Pelias, who has poisoned himself. He dies wishing Jason well and telling Iole that she ought to go with Hercules, but the noble sentiment is a little spoiled by the fact that he sets fire to the Fleece before chugging his hemlock shiraz.

Thanks, Dad.

What with having just killed a shitload of the palace guards in front of their comrades and without a Fleece to prove his kingship, Jason seems off to a rocky start. But all this gets put aside in an exceedingly short epilogue narrated by Jason. Herc does sail away with Iole and a few of the other Argonauts, off to enjoy a mortal life. It's a weak attempt to give some point to the conversation with the Sibyl and the opening titles that foreshadowed Herc's lesson that "even the greatest strength carries within it a measure of mortal weakness."

Unless a particular writer makes one and explores it, there's kinda no point to Herc giving half a shit for philosophical quandaries. Mythologically speaking, Hercules exists to kill nasty monsters, and you wouldn't want him training your crown prince in anything other than nasty monster killing. Herc's got a big heart, but a brain the size of an unusually dim walnut. And that's fine, because, again, his job is to kill monsters. Herc doesn't need to learn anything.

Well, that's not exactly true. If Hercules had spent more time learning things, he'd have had a happier life with a less gruesome ending. But no one could make him learn anything, and he didn't like to learn anything aside from how to build muscle and fight better. Example: The first man Herc ever killed was his music teacher. Hercules didn't dislike the guy; he just disliked music lessons, and he probably felt very sorry for putting that lyre through the man's head, but that didn't make the next guy in line for the job feel much better or safer. In a play about Herc's childhood, this incident would likely be followed by some self-imposed punishment. Rash action, regret, and absolution through extreme trial was the enduring pattern of Hercules' life. He generally cut out the part where he learned from his mistakes. But that's mythologically speaking, not cinematically speaking. That's not how post-WWII Europe and America like their big heroes.

Yes, we like our heroes larger than life, but—to our credit—we tend to like our larger-than-life heroes to struggle with big questions. Even if that struggle is poorly written/directed/acted, it's usually there. Our heroes tend to be capable of abstract thought, of understanding and using metaphor. That's not something the Greeks always prized. Sure, there are Odysseus and Achilles, and Athens loved Theseus, the pro-democracy prince who was into critical thinking. But, outside of Athens, Hercules was the hero who towered above all others, and the Herc of myth was not into abstract thought. Hercules didn't do metaphor except in that he WAS a metaphor. When the mythological Hercules wrestled with Death, he literally wrestled with Death. Like, with his hands.

Hercules won.

But the Hercules of peplum was different. Hercules may not have pulled it off, but it's interesting that the film was moving towards a more complicated Hercules. He's in an in-between stage, but he's sort of the next step in Hercules evolution, a missing linkulese. I'm not saying that the Hercules of Hercules was the first time someone tried to turn the brute into a more complete character, but it was a significant one. The lesson about mortality/immortality could have been dropped from this movie without any effect on the main plot, but it was still an important step in the way we've come to think of and portray Hercules, and even in what we get when we look to the Classics for popular entertainment.

Without this, you don't get this, or this, and maybe not even this.

Interesting Netflix suggestions?

Mostly other peplum this time, except for a late ‘70s Italian gangster flick called Street People. Maybe it's suggested because Roger Moore plays a lawyer called Ulysses?

Misty Watercolored Memories?

— Oh, the theremin of it all!

— In several scenes Herc is sporting a hell of a pompadour.

— Best fight with a stuffed lion ever.

— Iole, I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you walk away.

— I wish I could find the lyrics to that the jaunty little sea chantey Orpheus has the Argonauts singing while they row. Any Italian speakers want to help out here?

— That's some nice archery work from the Amazons, hitting the spears of the Argonauts. I don't think I'd have to see that twice before throwing down my weapons. Death by snu-snu beats death by arrows any day.

— Nice montage of Amazonian seduction!

— I also highly enjoyed the wild shifting between the happily drunken Argonauts, the guilty knowing looks exchanged by the Amazons, and the other Amazons dancing in their nighties.

— So, in this version of the story, Colchis is inhabited only by a single dragon and a tribe of australopithecines?

— Seriously, he burned the Golden Fleece? What the hell, dude?

— Pulling down the columns, very Samson.

Favorite Fight?

Ya just gotta love the fight with the lion, even if only for the death of Iphitus.

Note: the weirdly sped up action of the dragon fight is  dying for some Yakety Sax.

Moral of the story?

I can't help but think how much more smoothly things would have gone if the Argonauts had come home with swords drawn, ready for a fight. Forgiveness may be divine, but revenge ultimately saves lives and millions of lire in property damage.

MST3K take?

Joel and the bots do some decent riffing on this one, but they had to cut some fun stuff to fit the movie into the show's runtime while incorporating commercials and their own host segments. A lot of the dialogue between Herc and Iole wound up on the cutting-room floor, which affects the gender dynamic. Herc's entire side journey to retrieve Jason is also lost, which means no Cretan Bull fight. There is a short, kinda funny skit at the end with Bridget Nelson and Mary Jo Pehl playing modern-day Amazons who look a lot like Midwestern soccer moms. Amazonning seems to be a part-time gig these days; they only conquer men for charity. They decline Joel's request for a trip to earth, nor do they (as the bots were hoping) peel them any grapes.

Best? Lines?

— Iole: How simple men are. As if I were a plant or an animal.

— Iole: Why, how dare you be so audacious!

     Hercules: I'm too hungry to help it!

— Iole: Do you think that people lie?

— Pelias (to Evil Face): You like to kill, eh?

— Iphitus: They say you're almost a god. Well then, why aren't you invisible?

— Eurysteus (to Pelias): The gold? But you need light to see it well. It's like blood on my hands, bloody, like your brother was.

—Hercules: Now listen to me; these changes have happened to me in the last few days: Iole, the way they punished me… All of these things helped me to feel in another way. I can't stand being superior. Let me experience the real things: love or hate.

— Hercules: Now there's a woman to conquer, and battles to win, and the Cretan Bull awaits! The Cretan Bull awaits... The Cretan Bull awaits…

— If I may speak, I think this discussion is a waste of time.
(I'm going to end every conversation this way from now on.)

— Ulysses (to a very annoyed Hercules): First there's pain ‘cause she isn't yours. (knowing smile) Then begins that jealous feeling. (shit eating grin) That passes after you’re married, because then you're too tired to feel jealous (creepy laugh).

— It's unbelievable that at 60 I'm taking part in an adventure like this one! Oh thank you, Aphrodite! (I kind of love Asclepius)

— Jason: You kill all the men!

     Antea: It proves to us that we're superior to you.

— Hercules: Oh King, it's wise to forgive, but you'd be wiser to look deep into the eyes of the man you've forgiven.

— Hercules: I swear by the gods!

— Hercules (to Evil Face): I wouldn't soil my hands with your foul blood!

What makes it stand out in the realm of peplum?

Let's just call this issue covered, shall we?

Efforts to please picky classicists?

When the Sibyl foretells Jason's arrival, she describes him as a man wearing one sandal, an element of the myth that filmmakers seem to like.

Though Ulysses shouldn't be old enough to sail on the Argo, the portrayal of the young Ulysses here is fun. Obnoxiously precocious yet a little charming in his utter goofiness, this Ulysses is sort of a cross between Jimmy Olsen and Wesley Crusher, only more hormonal.

Inevitable annoyance for picky classicists?

Ok, call him Ulysses, but one island? One island!?

Next time: Let's skip ahead a few years to one of the better film adaptations of Apollonius' work and one of the heights of peplum. Hercules recedes to a supporting role and Jason takes the lead in the 1963 classic Jason and the Argonauts, our first peplum without dubbing!