Muscle Marys

Was it Groucho Marx who said: “I never go to movies where the hero’s tits are bigger than the heroine’s?”

            Well I, sure as hell, do.

            But I grew up during the height of the Italian “sword and sandal” films, also known as “Peplum”- from the Latin word describing the tunics worn by all those beefbags of the silver screen. All those “Hercules” and “Maciste” films starring musclebound bodybuilders like Steve Reeves, Gordon Scott, Ed Fury and Reg Park. The movies were a howl. Those (dubbed) glandular gladiators wore silly togas, looked unnatural on horseback, and their rippling muscles were put to good use rescuing damsels in distress, clashing with centurions or slaying giant rubber dragons.

            Before that, in film, muscles were historically considered comic. In the early days of cinema, barrel-chested men were trotted out as sight gags- big, meaty jokes. Tarzans were well-defined hunks who wore revealing loin-cloths and swung on vines. That was acceptable. But flesh-swollen men bursting out of their clothes were looked upon as freakish specimens only women like Mae West and Jayne Mansfield lusted after.

It wasn’t until Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone achieved box-office success that Hollywood changed tracks and made full-figured fellows less laughable and more bankable. From that moment on actors have been forced into gyms, coerced to transform into sculpted works of man meat. Hence, we are in the era of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, Michael B. Jordon, Ryan Reynolds, Jason Momoa, Henry Cavill and Chris Hemsworth. That’s fine by me.

            I have never much cared about keeping in shape. Sure, as a kid, bigger boys would actually kick sand in my face, but it never prompted me to fill out that Charles Atlas ad on the back of comic books and get into bodybuilding in order to seek revenge. Trust me, there were so many other more fiendish way to get back at those clods. And besides, getting sand kicked in my face afforded me the opportunity to look up their shorts and catch fleeting glimpses of their balls.

            But I have no problem drooling at handsome shirtless men on screen. Especially in mythological melodramas. You can’t go wrong with mythology- it’s so nondenominational. Who’s going to object to an angry Athenian? You would have such trouble green-lighting biblical epics (that once ruled the box office in the 1950s) today because angry online trolls would be outraged over every casting decision and religious zealots would be endlessly complaining over leaked screenplay Bible interpretations. Myths have vengeful goddesses (i.e. kick-ass female role models) and, most importantly, often plenty of monsters. Kids love monsters. They’re scary, but not threatening. This is not what they’re worried is hiding under their beds at night- it’s that weirdo that lives down the street. The sight of those pumped-up titans offers budding male homosexuals the first stirrings of desire, and little lesbians can let their imaginations run wild with all those scantily-clad, but fierce, goddesses.

            Nowadays everyone has a great body in films and on TV. A guy who plays an Uber driver or a waiter or even an extra usually has a six-pack, so it’s actually more startling to see someone less built up and looking more natural on screen.

            But I always hold a special place in my heart for those actors that had physique modeling in their past. They definitely had nothing to be embarrassed about, but photographs of them in a posing strap would be more problematic in the new digital age, and could have been used against them. I think they were trailblazers in a way, male pinups in the days when cheesecake ruled, and I salute them.

           Steve Reeves. Reeves grew up in California and became interested in body building at an early age. He served with the US Army during World War II and afterwards continued pumping up, becoming Mr. America of 1947, Mr. World of 1948, Mr. Universe of 1950.

An agent spotted him and when he snagged the lead of the Italian-made Hercules, the movie’s surprise popularity caused an avalanche of similar films. He starred in Hercules Unchained, Goliath and The Barbarians, The Last Days Of Pompeii and Duel Of The Titans (alongside another pituitary legend Gordon Scott) and died in 2000.

            John Hamill. The British blonde hunk and early physique model is best-known (by sci-fi geeks) for his work in Doctor Who and Space: 1999.

But he had no trouble shedding his clothes on screen. He’s nude and dead in Tower Of Evil and strips to his BVDs as a cave spelunker who encounters the half man/half beast in the fabulously stupid last feature film of Joan Crawford– Trog.

            Glenn Corbett. The dark-haired, incredibly handsome Corbett made a name for himself on the small screen. He replaced George Maharis in Route 66, did many western shows like The Virginian, Bonanza and Gunsmoke. Appeared on Star Trek and Land Of The Giants, and starred in Police Story and The Doctors.

But in his short movie career he worked for director Sam Fuller in The Crimson Kimono, did a swashbuckler for Hammer Studios– The Pirates Of Blood River, and appeared in my personal favorite- William Castle’s Homicidal.

            Ed Fury. Another hunky American bodybuilder who was a physique model for Bob Mizer’s Athletic Model Guild (AMG) before breaking into films such as Abbott & Costello Go To Mars and the camp classic The Wild Women Of Wongo.

He traveled to Italy to star in scores of “sword and sandal” films like Maciste Against The Sheik, Ursus In The Valley Of The Lions and Colossus And The Amazon Queen. He returned to the States and did occasional TV work like on Columbo, Fantasy Island, Barnaby Jones and The Doris Day Show.

            Gary Conway. Conway was an early physique model for Bruce Of L.A. in the 1950s before turning to acting and breaking out in several drive-in classics like Roger Corman’s The Viking Women & The Sea Serpent and the starring role as the monster (with pecs) in I Was A Teenage Frankenstein.

On TV he co-starred with Gene Barry in Burke’s Law (1963-1965) and Land Of The Giants (1968 to 1970). He even posed nude for Playgirl magazine in 1970 and I used to see the affable, still-handsome Conway signing autographs at many horror conventions.

            To these pants-less pioneers I take my hat (and shirt) off to you.