I love low-budget genre films that begin "Once upon a time,..." because inevitably those films will show viewers a lot more about the times the films were made than the ostensible times the films are set. Of course, to certain extent this is true of bigger budget films of any genre, but those tend either to work harder to disguise the attitudes and biases than inform them or to explore them in a more pointed manner, while low-budget films just let it all hang out.
In the case of "The Barbarians", we can glean much more about mid- 1980s cultural attitudes, biases and styles than we do about the non-specific mythological past the film purports to depict, especially in comparison to similar genre films from the 1960s. "The Barbarians" came out at the tail end of the 1980s Peplum mini- revival, which was sparked by the success of "Conan the Barbarian" starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, just as the 1960s Peplum golden age had been propelled by the success "Hercules" starring Steve Reeves. "The Barbarians" preserves most of the conventions of the genre -- battles with fierce mythological creatures, good-natured boys-will- be-boys tavern brawls, sorcery, feats of superhuman strength, slave girls (but no dancing girls), bodybuilder heroes -- but the hair is more feathered than lacquered, the costumes (for both men and women) are more revealing and some female toplessness is featured, the music is synth-driven rather than orchestral, and the camp sensibility is more obvious and knowing. Most of the actors seem to want us to know that they aren't taking any of this too seriously and neither should we.
Part of that comes from the stars, bodybuilder twins David and Peter Paul (billed as "The Barbarian Brothers"), who made a handful of movies in which they play perpetually bickering meatheads. They were supposed to be funny -- more two-of-three stooges on human growth hormone than Abbott & Costello -- but they never caught on big because of their very limited range, though they do have a low-key jovial screen presence and they certainly look the part of muscular heroes. To overcome their limitations, the film offers high camp from b-movie stalwart Richard Lynch, Eva La Rue and veteran character actor Michael Berryman, each competing with the other to chew more scenery, as well as a host of other mostly Italian character actors some of whom will be recognizable to horror and action film fans. There's not a lot of wit in the screenplay (the best bit, from a reluctant would-be queen: "I'm not a virgin!" to which the sort-of priest who's trying to conscript her responds "We don't have time for such subtleties!"), nor a lot of style to the direction by Ruggero Deodato, better known for "Cannibal Holocaust," but it only drags occasionally despite a rather slow pace. And it looks half-way decent, which is more than you can generally say for a several of the movies from this period. It seems like most of the money spent on this ended up on screen, whether in the set design or in body oil for the stars.
And that copious body oil highlights a key difference between this and the golden age of Peplum cinema. While attitudes about masculinity and femininity haven't change all that much (though the expression of those attitudes has advanced some), you can tell how much more informed this film is by the mainstreaming of gym culture than the films of the early 1960s, when going to the gym and, especially, bodybuilding were sub-cultural phenomena. The Paul brothers make jokes about their size and shape that few would have understood in the earlier era. Their whole shtick was only made possible by the evolution of ideas about fitness that progressed from Charles Atlas to Joe Weider to 24 Hour Fitness, from Reeves to Schwarzenegger and beyond. This isn't a very good film, but it's at least interesting for what it reveals about those shifts.
In the case of "The Barbarians", we can glean much more about mid- 1980s cultural attitudes, biases and styles than we do about the non-specific mythological past the film purports to depict, especially in comparison to similar genre films from the 1960s. "The Barbarians" came out at the tail end of the 1980s Peplum mini- revival, which was sparked by the success of "Conan the Barbarian" starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, just as the 1960s Peplum golden age had been propelled by the success "Hercules" starring Steve Reeves. "The Barbarians" preserves most of the conventions of the genre -- battles with fierce mythological creatures, good-natured boys-will- be-boys tavern brawls, sorcery, feats of superhuman strength, slave girls (but no dancing girls), bodybuilder heroes -- but the hair is more feathered than lacquered, the costumes (for both men and women) are more revealing and some female toplessness is featured, the music is synth-driven rather than orchestral, and the camp sensibility is more obvious and knowing. Most of the actors seem to want us to know that they aren't taking any of this too seriously and neither should we.
Part of that comes from the stars, bodybuilder twins David and Peter Paul (billed as "The Barbarian Brothers"), who made a handful of movies in which they play perpetually bickering meatheads. They were supposed to be funny -- more two-of-three stooges on human growth hormone than Abbott & Costello -- but they never caught on big because of their very limited range, though they do have a low-key jovial screen presence and they certainly look the part of muscular heroes. To overcome their limitations, the film offers high camp from b-movie stalwart Richard Lynch, Eva La Rue and veteran character actor Michael Berryman, each competing with the other to chew more scenery, as well as a host of other mostly Italian character actors some of whom will be recognizable to horror and action film fans. There's not a lot of wit in the screenplay (the best bit, from a reluctant would-be queen: "I'm not a virgin!" to which the sort-of priest who's trying to conscript her responds "We don't have time for such subtleties!"), nor a lot of style to the direction by Ruggero Deodato, better known for "Cannibal Holocaust," but it only drags occasionally despite a rather slow pace. And it looks half-way decent, which is more than you can generally say for a several of the movies from this period. It seems like most of the money spent on this ended up on screen, whether in the set design or in body oil for the stars.
And that copious body oil highlights a key difference between this and the golden age of Peplum cinema. While attitudes about masculinity and femininity haven't change all that much (though the expression of those attitudes has advanced some), you can tell how much more informed this film is by the mainstreaming of gym culture than the films of the early 1960s, when going to the gym and, especially, bodybuilding were sub-cultural phenomena. The Paul brothers make jokes about their size and shape that few would have understood in the earlier era. Their whole shtick was only made possible by the evolution of ideas about fitness that progressed from Charles Atlas to Joe Weider to 24 Hour Fitness, from Reeves to Schwarzenegger and beyond. This isn't a very good film, but it's at least interesting for what it reveals about those shifts.