aka Le Fatiche di Ercole, aka Labors of Hercules

• Directed by Pietro Francisci
• Written by Pietro Francisci, Ennio De Concini and Gaio Frattini, based on the poem “The Argonautica” by Apollonious Rhodios
• Starring
  • Steve Reeves
  • Sylva Koscina
  • Fabrizio Mioni
  • Ivo Garrani
  • Arturo Dominici

We in the B-movie community are used to the excesses of Italian cinema. From spaghetti Westerns to zombie flicks to cannibal epics to post-apocalypic actioners to the post-Conan barbarian glut, the Italians have a reputation for taking any semi-popular movie idea that can be done reasonably cheaply and grinding out so many of them that the genre burns out under their wait. (Granted, the same can be said of Roger Corman, but he’s one man, not an entire national industry.)

But the first of such market gluts, the “peplum” (or “sword-n-sandal”) movie, has a sheen of legitimacy that most of the other genres doesn’t; it’s based on Classical history and myth, which means that Italians are allowed to exploit their own heritage with reckless abandon. And while Hercules may or may not be the first real example of this genre (what, you expect me to research the stuff I write here?), it’s certainly the first one which made these movies an internationally-marketable quantity.

“Does this toga make my butt look big?”

One of the sure-fire gambits seen in early use here is the inclusion of an American lead with an otherwise-local cast — not only might the star have some pull with an American/international audience, but at least one cast member’s lips will match the English dialogue. Granted, acting together across language barriers doesn’t always lead to the best performances, but in this case, we’re not talking about a nuanced role: Steve Reeves is Hercules, played as a side of beef. (Lest anything think his performance is notably wooden, though, remember that twenty-five years later, the role of Hercules was taken on twice by Lou Ferrigno, so by comparison Reeves is pretty damned good.)

Hercules starts out our story by winning some brownie points, saving poor Iole (the very pretty Sylva Koscina) as her spooked horses carry her runaway chariot precariously close to the end of a cliff. By the ultra-manly overkill of uprooting a tree and laying it across the road, he stops them and catches her as she faints. (Hey, at least she waited until a convenient moment.) But these two, though having met by chance, are not merely randomly thrown together. Iole is princess of Jolco, where her father Pelias is king thanks to the mysterious murder of his older brother a decade or so back. Hercules is coming to teach the king’s namby son Iphitus how to fight like a man in order to succeed his dad), but there are some questions about his rightness for the job, not the least of which being that Herc’s old friend Chironi, who disappeared the night of the murder with the old king’s son Jason and the Golden Fleece, is the most likely suspect for the dirty deed.

All of this comes out as Hercules eats a huge meaty haunch, declares himself to be the semi-hostile Iole’s protector (which apparently melts her heart little by little — we all know how much women like being taken under our wing, don’t we, guys?), rides with her to Jolco, introduces himself to Pelias (Ivo Garrani) and Iphitus (Mimmo Palmara), and bends a spear into a pretzel to identify himself (this was the era before demigods started carrying two forms of photo ID). He then proceeds to hold some tournaments among the local menfolk, and shows Iphitus up as a whiner in front of his subjects, just to make sure the good impression is complete. (It certainly works for Iole — she just can’t keep herself off the big lug.)

Among Hercules’ lesser-known labors? Making the world’s biggest paperclip.

When some concerned citizens bring in the corpses of some locals mauled by a vicious lion in the vicinity, Hercules takes off to take care of it, but Iphitus tags along just to show his manliness. Unfortunately, kingly virtues aren’t much help against four hundred pound of feline carnivore (or even against the shag-carpeted puppet head intruding into the frame whenever the characters’ faces are shown in combat with the lion). So Hercules comes back with good news and bad news, an Iphitus’ corpse as a visual aid of the bad news.

Obviously, Pelias knows where the line is when dealing with a demigod, so he merely blames him publicly for Iphitus’ death (hey, he’s grieving, we’ll allow him a certain “WTF?” factor in his logic) and sends him away to beat up the Cretan Bull. How will this help? Got me — if I blamed someone for the death of my son, I’d probably tell him to go somewhere and do something, but that wouldn’t be it.

But Hercules does so, defeating the bull by pounding it (or, again, a reasonable puppet head facsimile thereof) between the eyes. He then discovers someone else who didn’t do so well in his own encounter with the bull — and it just happens to be long-lost Chironi (Afro Poli)! He’s been living in a cave since then, with now-grown Jason (Fabrizio Mioni); the Fleece, which he nabbed to keep safe, has been spirited away to… uh… all right, my Greek is poor enough that I didn’t manage to write down the name of the place, but trust me, it’s far away.

We now return to tonight’s feature on the All Sweaty Men Channel…

Hercules takes Jason back to Jolco to claim the throne, but Pelias is a bit leery of that. For one thing, as we’ve seen behind the scenes (and which we already know if we know our Greek mythology, or if we’ve seen Jason and the Argonauts), Pelias is the one who had his brother murdered. For another thing, a soothsayer had told him that a man coming to Jolco with only one sandal would be Pelias’ undoing, and whaddaya know, Jason lost a sandal in the stream on the way.

So Pelias sets Jason a task: Go find the Golden Fleece from WhereverLand, and he’ll relinquish the throne. So Jason rounds up a crew, including Hercules, and off they set in the Argo. Pelias, though, has managed to insert his crony Eurysteus (Arturo Dominici) into the crew — and since Eurysteus was the actual hatchetman for the original king’s killing, he’s got pretty good reason to sabotage the voyage.

And folks, here’s where the movie slows right down until it’s on idle. Because after a storm at sea forces the crew to throw most of their provisions overboard, they come to an island for reprovisioning — only to discover that the island is completely peopled by Amazons! (The two-breasted kind, not the authentic ones. Which is entirely okay with me.) Suddenly, for the next twenty minutes, Hercules retreats into the background, and it’s mainly Jason’s story — not that it really goes anywhere. For twenty minutes or so (and boy, it seemed much longer), the men of the ship get cozy with the Amazons, and Jason and their queen get snuggly, despite the evidence that the Amazons regularly use men to perpetuate themselves (wink, wink) and then kill the men.

“It is a lonely life… bathing… dressing… undressing… knitting exciting underwear….”

Allow me to fastforward this for you. Ulysses (Gabriele Antonini), one of the crew, overhears the Amazon’s plan and timeframe, and alerts Herc, then puts crushed poppy seeds into everyone’s wine. (Good thing it was opium poppies they were growing on Amazon Island.) Then Herc and a couple of helpers carry all of the drugged men back to the ship.

But it’s still not Herc’s story again — they finally make it to the WhateverLand, where Jason goes ashore to find the Fleece. And there it is, just kinda hanging on a tree branch. But what is lying half-buried beneath the tree, guarding the Fleece! It’s — it’s — Anguirus! (Alright, maybe it’s not Anguirus, but it sure looks like him, circa Gigantis the Fire Monster.) He hops up thanks to the magic of forced perspective and starts growling and menacing Jason, until a carefully-thrown spear ends his mini-reign of terror. Boy, that was fast.

So Jason gets back to Jolco with the Fleece, or so they think, but as they enter the harbor, Hercules (oh, that’s right, it’s his movie) discovers that the trunk they locked it in is empty. Eurysteus is mysteriously absent, so he’s obviously the one who stole it, and since Pelias isn’t going to accept a “We had it, but we lost it” excuse, Hercules goes ashore alone to find out what he can find.

What he finds is Pelias and Eurysteus gloating and rubbing their hands over the Fleece. Oh, and he also discovers the trap door in the floor of Pelias’ chambers. Unfortunately, he discovers it the hard way, by having Pelias drop his ass into the dungeons beneath. So he’s chained to the walls when Jason and company decide to come to the palace anyway.

While Pelias surrounds Jason and his Argonauts, Iole and her handmaidens go to the dungeon to rescue Herc. Then they manage to lock themselves in with him. (Nice going, ladies.) But not to worry — when he rouses himself and hears the combat going on above… Well, if you’ve ever seen the poster art and seen Hercules in all his glory, whipping chains around like nobody’s business, you know what comes next. He busts the chains free from the walls, crunches the door, and starts wiping up Pelias’ men.

One spear? One puny spear??? Where are the damned laser jeeps?!?

And then, the other great image: To slow down Pelias’ reinforcements, he barricades the Argonauts inside the palace by bullwhipping the chains around the two pillars at the entrance and, ah, “pulling a Samson.” (Ever wonder why there aren’t all that many Greek buildings still standing? From the evidence of this movie, it looks like the stability of the much-vaunted Greek architects wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be.) That gives Jason and crew enough time to make sure people accept his claim to the throne, and since Pelias conveniently admits his guilt and commits suicide at that point (plus the fact that the former king managed to write the whodunit on the back of the Fleece with his own blood before expiring), Jason’s claim is all clear.

And with that, Hercules and Iole sail off into the sunset. Literally. There’s a boat and a sunset and everything.

As you may have noticed, reviews in which my synopsis goes all the way to the end are those on which I have no big wrap-up analysis to expound upon. There’s the movie; it’s just kinda there. I inspires no strong devotion in me (and that whole Amazon interlude just brings the entire story to a dull thud of a stop), but that’s certainly not the worst reaction a movie can get out of me.

In fact, there’s only one real sticking point for me here: That damned monster guarding the Fleece. What’s the point of having twenty seconds of a special guest star kaiju? I mean, you’ve already paid for the damned rubber suit. Might as well let the guy tromp around in it a little more in front of the camera. (There’s the genre the Italians never got around to exploiting: Kaiju movies. And I’d better shut up before I give someone ideas.)

Some Notable Totables:

• body count: 10
• breasts: 0
• explosions: 0
• dream sequences: 1
• ominous thunderstorms: 2
• actors who’ve appeared on Star Trek: 0