Hercules Unchained (1959) – Review

In this 1959 Italian sword-and-sandal sequel to 1958’s Hercules, Steve Reeves once again flexes his pecs and somehow solves problems using the power of muscle tone and stoic confusion. This film explores the age-old question, “Can brawn overpower beauty?”

This isn’t just any Hercules story. No, this one kicks off with our hero trying to play diplomat. That’s right, the man who once punched a hydra into submission is now being asked to negotiate a peace treaty between two quarrelling brothers, Eteocles (Sergio Fantoni) and Polynices (Mimmo Palmara), who are each vying for the Theban throne. Naturally, things go awry when Hercules (Steve Reeves) drinks some suspicious enchanted spring water and forgets who he is, which, let’s be honest, is the only way to explain how he ends up lounging in a pleasure palace with a sultry queen named Omphale (Sylvia Lopez), surrounded by hypnotized bodybuilders and peacock feathers. Can Hercules fight off her spell and be reunited with his wife?

“Wife? What wife? I’ll just shack up here.”

Omphale, queen of Lydia and connoisseur of shirtless men, treats Herc like a piece of Grecian meatloaf, and he doesn’t seem to mind. With dreamy eyes and a fresh toga in every scene, he just kind of floats through her pastel-drenched palace like a confused gym bro who wandered into a spa and decided to stay. Meanwhile, back in the real world, Thebes is still in chaos, monsters are rampaging, and Herc’s long-suffering wife Iole (Sylva Koscina) and loyal (but basically useless) buddy Ulysses (Gabriele Antonini) are desperately trying to snap him out of his satin-lined stupor. Every so often, we cut to some political backstabbing in Thebes, but let’s be honest, nobody’s here for the geopolitics. We’re here to watch Steve Reeves throw boulders like baseballs and flex his way through mythological mayhem, with the film ending with the two brothers killing each other.

“Damn, I did not see that coming.”

Stray Observations:

• For a good third of the movie, Hercules just chills in Queen Omphale’s love palace, completely forgetting that he’s supposed to be, you know, doing stuff. It’s like the film took a vacation halfway through and Hercules said, “Yeah, I’m good with this.”
• Ulysses is somehow both helpful and completely useless. He knows everything, like a mythological GPS, but spends most of the film either being ignored or hiding in the bushes.
• The pleasure palace looks like Liberace designed it. Silk curtains, giant statues, golden goblets, and enough glitter to choke a centaur. Omphale’s palace is a fever dream of opulence and slow-motion seduction. It’s less “ancient Greece” and more “Vegas mythology revue.”

“Tonight on the Thebes strip, the lovely Grecian showgirls!”

Director Pietro Francisci returns to helm this sequel, which doubled down on mythic melodrama, visual grandeur, and the physical presence of its leading man. Visually, Francisci’s direction favours sweeping outdoor shots, vibrant costumes, and slow-motion feats of strength. Scenes of Hercules pulling down stone walls or holding up collapsing columns are not just narrative beats; they are muscle-bound tableaus meant to awe. Carlo Innocenzi’s bombastic score further heightens the theatricality, offering grandeur even when the story flattens out. Of course, the real joy of Hercules Unchained lies in its unapologetic excess. The dubbed dialogue is stilted, the fight scenes are hilariously choreographed, and the romantic chemistry has the emotional warmth of marble. But it’s sincere in its ambition and spectacular in its old-school, over-the-top fashion.

Watch Hercules bend fashion to his will.

As for a titular hero, Steve Reeves is all brawn and brooding brows, wandering through the film like a confused colossus who occasionally remembers he can throw pillars like javelins. His charisma may be as stiff as the toga he’s crammed into, but let’s be real—no one came to this movie for Shakespearean monologues. You came to see shirtless Herc beat up half of Thebes, wrestle chained beasts, and somehow escape danger by the sheer power of his pecs. Basically, he is peak Hercules here, not just built like a statue, but acting like one, too. His stoicism is part of the charm. He doesn’t emote much, but who needs emotional range when you can pull down a temple with your biceps? 

“Any temples need toppling? Asking for a friend.”

The sets are fabulous in that 1950s Italian cinema way, painted backdrops, crumbling columns, and more sheer curtains than a department store window display. The costumes range from glamorously historical to “did someone just wrap that man in a tablecloth?” But it’s all part of the fun. Every moment feels like it’s teetering between ancient epic and camp fantasy, and that balance is what makes Hercules Unchained such a gloriously goofy delight. It also helps when you have the fabulous Mario Bava as your cinematographer.

Things are bound to look amazing.

Of course, we’d be remiss not to mention the film’s delightful commitment to the absurd. Queen Omphale’s creepy statue collection? A romantic interlude with ancient Greek amnesia? That oddly tense chariot chase? It’s all served up with a straight face and a sweeping orchestral score, as if to say, “Yes, this is all very serious drama, now please enjoy this shot of Reeves in a leopard-print toga.” But what makes this outing such a blast isn’t just its over-the-top antics; it’s the sheer enthusiasm with which it throws itself into the mythology. 

But just how far off is Hercules Unchained from its source material?

Mythology vs. Movie:

• The myth of Omphale involves Hercules voluntarily serving her as penance for killing someone. He isn’t amnesiac or manipulated. The movie Hercules is noble, muscle-bound, and somewhat passive. He spends much of the movie under a love spell, looking confused.

• The mythological Heracles (Greek name) is violent, unpredictable, and tragic, constantly at odds with the gods and his own impulses. The film turns Heracles into a square-jawed hero instead of a deeply flawed demigod.

• In the mythology, Omphale was the Queen of Lydia, and Hercules served her as punishment for killing Iphitus. The relationship was humiliating for Hercules, he wore women’s clothes and did domestic chores while she wore his lion skin and club. In the movie version, she’s a femme fatale ruling over a palace of petrified lovers. She seduces Hercules and keeps him prisoner through sorcery.

Basically, the myth is a gender-role reversal comedy/tragedy, while the movie plays it like a campy S&M palace drama. It takes the vague outlines of ancient legend and crams them full of action, melodrama, and just enough camp to keep you grinning. It’s myth through the lens of mid-century Italian cinema, where every story needs more muscle, more melodrama, more slow-motion boulder tossing and a lot of gorgeous women.

Who wants to oil up the mighty Hercules?

In conclusion, Hercules Unchained is less a mythology lesson and more a celebration of cinematic spectacle. It’s dumb in all the right ways, beautiful in all the right places, and never once apologizes for being a gloriously greased-up fever dream of ancient epic. Because sometimes, the gods don’t demand a sacrifice, they just want a good show.