You can read the first post in this -part series on Hercules in the cinema here.
In 1977 (yes, Star Wars came out, but we’re not here to talk about a little film like that) a documentary, or “docudrama”, about the world of competitive bodybuilding was unleashed on American audiences. Pumping Iron’s primary focus was the semi-fabricated rivalry between Arnold Schwarzenegger and Lou Ferrigno, the two most promising contenders for the title of Mr. Olympia. Coincidentally, both men have taken a far more significant “Olympic” title in cinema: the role of Hercules, in depictions which could not be more dissimilar. Ferrigno’s acting career began a few years after the success of the documentary, covered in green paint as The Hulk in the television adaptation, and in two psychedelic Italian Hercules movies. Schwarzenegger, on the other veiny hand, had already made his big-screen debut almost 10 years prior to Pumping Iron, in the infamous Hercules in New York. The irony that these muscle men would be unofficially competing for a new generation’s conception of Hercules is doubled by Ferrigno, who lost to his contemporary in bodybuilding, but came out the clear champion of the crappy Hercules movie contest. Regardless of who came out on top, watching their collective work, both as Hercules and otherwise, is fascinating. Two completely inexperienced actors try to negotiate an art form so alien to them, and fail beautifully. In watching that struggle, we also witness the struggle of man’s natural desire for physical prowess, and a narrow-minded idealization of the male physique so prevalent in the ’80s.
We need to kick things off with the Lou Ferrigno contributions. If we start with Arnie, I will have written a 1,000-word joke at the expense of one of the worst movies I have ever seen before I get a chance to discuss anything else. Hercules (1983), however, is delightfully whacko, and I can understand its status as a cult classic. Taking an old school sci-fi spin on the world of Greek mythology, both this and its 1985 sequel, The Adventures of Hercules, create one of the strangest aesthetics to which I have been exposed. I rented it regularly as a child, and revisiting it for the sake of this column left me wondering if this was the same film which wowed me in my youth. The effects I passionately described to my peers as, “totally awesome” are merely charming at their very best. I am a big fan of practical effects, but the miniature work in these movies is bafflingly incompetent. Surprisingly not incompetent is Mr. Ferrigno’s honest and innocent performance as the eponymous character. You can see he has a certain level of understanding with regard to how his Hercules, slowly learning of his divine ties, processes the world around him. That may not sound like high praise, but considering the bizarre audio techniques of that era’s filmmakers in Italy; it is hard to know what else I can say. Just as in the case of the Hercules movies from a few decades earlier, no live sound was captured during filming, so every actor’s dialogue was recorded by another actor in postproduction. Having lost 75% of his hearing at a young age, we can imagine Ferrigno’s delivery would be hampered by this affliction, but I have to wonder what his Hercules really sounded like. Nearly any performance would be better served by a voice less robotic and detached than what we get in the finished product.
In both of his films, the Hercules character is a creation by Zeus deliberately sent to earth to balance the scales between good and evil. He is a superhero not so different from Superman. Early in the first act of both productions, his enormous form appears in the stars. He does not appear to us in lion skin, or nude, or in any sort of ancient garb. He appears exactly as the actor playing him commonly would in a bodybuilding competition: tanned, oiled, and wearing tiny spandex shorts. Here, the film tells us how the true champion of men should be shaped. It apparently takes a large, masculine man to save the world.
Overall, these final Italian entries into Hercules’ cinematic dossier are too insane to believe. They are the kind of movies you need to experience with good friends and better beer. In failing to capture an epic scope well beyond their reach, they succeed in capturing the imaginative level of play I achieved in childhood (at one point he throws a bear into space which explodes into the constellation Ursa Major: which is not even accurate to the myths, let alone to science). Women are not treated nearly as poorly in these episodes, but they remain just as scantily clad as they did in the Steve Reeves days. Still, compared to some other sword and sandal works in the ’80s, these films are quite tame when it comes to sexuality. Hercules is portrayed as a clever, kind, and thoughtful adventurer by the novice Lou Ferrigno, and what he loses with his acting skills is mostly regained in maintaining a charming presence. Compared to Arnold Schwarzenegger, he looks like damn Sir Lawrence Olivier.
Arnie has been on record saying he regrets making 1969’s Hercules in New York, and it can’t be the lowest point in only his career, I would hope it is the lowest point for anyone involved. A so-called “comedy” totally bereft of charisma, timing, or even humor (with the single exception of a bonkers sour kraut chase sequence), the titular character has become bored with his all-too-similar surroundings, and chooses to leave Mt. Olympus for Earth. In a mind-blowing display of definitively wooden acting, Schwarzenegger makes it difficult to understand how he ever found another acting gig. We can assume he had his larger-than-life magnetism featured in Pumping Iron to thank for any future work. It’s almost hard to believe this is the same guy. He stiffly meanders from scene to scene looking bored and confused, and you can’t really blame him. Nothing in the movie makes anything resembling sense, and visually, it’s kind of like watching someone’s home videos shot with all the sophistication and care of early pornography. One of his biggest challenges as an actor was his often-incomprehensible accent. Much stronger in those days, I found myself at the end credits thinking I had only caught about half of what he had to say (the filmmakers dubbed his lines with another actor, just as in Ferrigno’s case, but it is not hard to find the original version). The film is dull, dimwitted, way beyond “so bad, it’s good” territory, and really has very little to do with the Hercules legends. In fact, the only thing it has in common with Lou Ferrgino’s movies (which were also not wholly committed to their source material) is that preference for an uber-masculine physique.
Schwarzenegger’s body is showcased as frequently as he misunderstands catchphrases and colloquialisms (no kidding: that is the setup for practically every unfunny joke in the first half). His physical abilities win him respect among any man he meets. He manages to lure a woman away from her boyfriend without her lover’s protest. He strikes a few poses to prove the man playing him in a movie is a fake (in what ought to be a fun meta-filmic moment). His showboating comes to a screeching halt at a power-lifting contest, however, when he has lost his superhuman abilities due to Juno’s (the roman name for Hera) intervention. Suddenly, Hercules experiences what many of us mortal men have dealt with in a male-dominated society.
The need, the craving, the unstoppable desire for strength has consumed me since I first discovered the character of Hercules. I’m not alone here. A fine companion piece to any of these movies is the documentary Bigger, Stronger, Faster: The Side Effects of Being American. It’s a fine study of how Hollywood, particularly in action films, took a turn for the muscle-bound in the ’80s. It’s not just movies, though. Almost everything in our culture (although, I admit it has been changing for the better) tells us that if a man is nothing else… he is strong. In Arnold’s case, Hercules is exactly nothing when he is not strong. He is a bratty womanizer with no other redeeming qualities. If we are to measure men by that single attribute, then to be the strongest among them is to be the greatest of them. Why else would we cast body builders in this role time and time again? It is the closest most of us can come to realizing that dream. They look strong: they are strong. Women are not alone in being told how they should look by media. In this second era of Hercules movies, the actors taking the role don’t even require clear speech in order to get the job done. According to these films, the body is the single most important aspect of the strongest man in the world.
