Death’s halo lands not just on everyone, but everything. It is the crown of that nostalgic smile which whispers subconsciously, telling an entire culture that something wonderful is now gone forever. Often this silent voice includes a finger waving scold of regret, that not enough people appreciated someone or something while still here. This is the basis from which retro trends are born, out of a longing for something both impossible because it has run its course, yet feasible because it did once truly exist. In the late 1990s, what truly existed were slews of adventure fantasy TV series, all trying to capture the same success as Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (1994-1999) and Xena: Warrior Princess (1995-2001). Cheap, gaudy, and made in bulk, these shows were easy to dismiss at the time. Despite their aesthetics being very “tumblr ready,” these shows haven’t had a big resurgence. In hindsight, these bubblegum offerings have a charm that transcends the fast food pace of their output. Of course, it is also easy for quantity to look like quality when seen in the rear view mirror.
Swashbuckling adventure has found at least a small footing in every decade of filmic art. The serials and matinee films of the 1940s, ’50s, and ’60s made primarily to babysit audiences of children found form in explorations of exotic jungles and outer space. In the late ’70s and early ’80s, George Lucas and Steven Spielberg successfully created more serious versions of these subgenres through Star Wars (1977) and Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981). In today’s language, they made the “elevated” versions of what they once loved as kids. Some attempts are made in the ’80s to capture this reinvented magic on television, with shows like Tales of the Gold Monkey (1982-1983) and Voyagers! (1982-1982), but the sort of action serials that ended up resonating with the most people were contemporary rogue protector stories with Knight Rider (1982-1986), The A-Team (1983-1987), and Miami Vice (1984-1989). The combination of new wave style with protagonists who work at the edge of legality to protect the common man, despite corrupt systems, is the sort of grounded escapism audiences responded to most.
As the 1990s comes into full swing, though, mainstream pop culture embraces the idea of darkness. Music and film go gritty with the rise of grunge, gangsta rap, Tarantino-sploitation, and perhaps most importantly, Skinemax. The sexual side of this edgy cultural revolution makes itself visible through plentiful depictions of industrial BDSM clubs in film, “my cunt or my country” riot grrrl politics, and femme fatales around every corner. It also does something wider and simpler: there becomes a growing general acceptance of sexuality in all media. Skinemax, the originally derogatory term for Cinemax moving into softcore porn production for their late night programming, is a decent symbolic bridge between the edgy aspects of the sexual ’90s and what ends up becoming something very family friendly. Skinemax starts to bring sex into many more homes, with USA Network’s USA Up All Night (1989-1998) reaching even more households through their erotic comedy programming. While both are focused on lascivious intentions, they represent a boundary-pushing of what may be revealed in mass media. This revolution isn’t just for the horny side of sexuality though. While the decade reaches an intense height with Bound (1996), a movie that felt dangerous for depicting lesbian anti-heroes, the decade ends with Will & Grace (1999-2020), the first sitcom featuring a gay lead character. Whether this is a welcome representation or a dandifying distraction, it shows how the true results of abrasive counterculture can be genuinely wholesome.
It is somewhere between being force-fed T&A and bigoted grandparents learning that being gay is chill, where cornball adventure stories start to shine again in the ’90s. A subgenre so silly and lighthearted it would seem destined to fail during the bad boy ’90s, but thanks to a specific tradition of homoeroticism, the show Hercules: The Legendary Journeys ends up carving out a wide lane for many to follow. The overwhelming quantity of Hercules-based Sword and Sandal films, particularly of the Italian peplum sort, lean heavily on not only the male characters’ shirtlessness, but also on their eternally innocent boy-mances. It is no surprise that Sam Raimi is one of the main creators of this show, transposing the high camp of Evil Dead 2 (1987) to television. The breezy tone of this show about the carefree adventures of two inseparable boyish men is contrasted by the darkness of Hercules’ wife being killed. This dichotomy invokes a sort of John Waters twisted kitsch; a symbolic death of the heteronormative so that platonic queer joy may bloom.
Just before this new Hercules would transform fantasy television for the rest of the decade, a few shows helped pave the way. Two franchise-based entries, Highlander (1992-1998) and The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles (1992-1996), had substantial runs that show the public’s readiness for fantasy and adventure stories again. Highlander‘s look, wardrobes, and casting all have a Silk Stockings (1991-1993) feel shared by many of the post-Raimi produced shows. But it is the Bruce Campbell-starring The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. (1993) that is most significant. Campbell’s beloved style of slapstick and male bravado humor is on full display here. While lasting only one season, it is hard not to make the connection between the star of Evil Dead and the director, Raimi. Even if Brisco didn’t directly inspire Raimi to create Hercules, the cultural stepping stone remains.
When Hercules premiered, it was not the only show MCA/Universal was banking on. As a part of what was called “Action Pack,” Hercules was distributed to networks alongside other newly developed action shows in hopes of creating a programming block that audiences wouldn’t change the channel from. This included the sci-fi TekWar (1994-1996) and franchise shows based on Smokey and the Bandit (1977) and Midnight Run (1988). TekWar did find a lengthy home being moved to the USA Network, but quickly Action Block shed away its movies and shows with contemporary settings as Hercules came to define the era. This led to the most impactful series of this entire fantasy movement, Xena: Warrior Princess. The formula for this spinoff was much the same, but the cultural timing of having a sapphic version of the “we’re just friends… good friends” adventures really hit home for fans. It is a year after the massive success of Xena, not just in terms of ratings, but as a cultural touchstone, that suddenly a ton of knockoffs come to television.
The Adventures of Sinbad (1996-1998) and Tarzan: The Epic Adventures (1996-1997) are two of the first series to try and make names for themselves by using characters well ingrained in cultural consciousness. The production approach of these shows is incredibly close to that of Hercules and Xena. Utilitarian cinematography/framing and extremely flat lighting, with most of the visual sense of wonder relying on newly-available-budget level CGI. The fantasy genre was clearly perfect for indulging in a stylish look over a realistic or even highbrow arty one. This sort of rudimentary CGI has aged remarkably well though. After decades of studios pushing for hyper-realism in CGI, the results have become boring at best, invoking the uncanny valley at worst. Going back to the low-resolution style of CGI in these ’90s fantasy shows is a strong reminder that a sense of style is the key to being entertaining. Most of the shows, mini-series, and made-for-TV films that would come in the wake of Action Pack’s success would unfortunately fail to learn that the secret ingredient was a covert queerness. But they all would nail the fun look, playing wildly with new forms of composite layering, 3D model monsters, and Animorphs (1998-1999)-style transformations.
These subsequent offerings would also understand the sexualized characters, even if staying in a conservative hetero lane. The men tended to be beefcakes with Fabio faces. The women, even when living in jungles and settings hundreds, if not thousands, of years in the past, always were in full glam: lips lined, brows shaped, and hair fresh out of the salon. Perhaps the creators didn’t know what was going on, but these looks are fabulous to the edge of drag, making even the shallowest of Action Pack copycats still a bit of a coup for what was being beamed into homes.
More franchises would seek rebirth in this era as well. Action Pack themselves produced the made-for-TV movie Beastmaster III: The Eye of Braxus (1996) and, knowing their own recipe, blessed audiences with a buddy adventure between Marc Singer and Tony Todd. This amazing pairing is one of the best hidden gems to come out of the cultural moment, and both actors understood the assignment on a level that Kevin Sorbo never got his mind around. Three years later, outside of Action Pack, Beastmaster would return as a series for four years. It is also one of the best of the “knockoffs,” its strong run being well earned. Sadly, Conan the Adventurer (1997-1998) is slight compared to the charm of the Schwarzenegger films, but Mortal Kombat: Conquest (1998-1999) is so absurd it can’t be ignored. The series mirrors the original game’s groundbreaking real life/CG composite look and ends up being one of the most stunning works of eye candy in this period. The stories, while including some fighting, are rooted in goofy melodrama. Episode 10, “Unholy Alliance”, revolves around a sort of “Last Temptation of Kung Lao” storyline, in which his true weakness is revealed: being a hopeless romantic. Meanwhile, two of the other heroes, also embracing the trope of characters who can’t admit their love, play a kinky game of master and servant. “Get over here!” indeed.
By the end of the decade, and continuing for a brief while into the next, the cathode tube landscape is cluttered with shows, mini-series, and made-for-TV movies of this sort. The Odyssey (1997), The Legend of William Tell (1998-1999), The Lost World (1998), Merlin (1998), Young Hercules (1998-1999), Cleopatra (1999), Journey to the Center of the Earth (1999), Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Lost World (1999-2002), The Immortal (2000-2001), Merlin: The Return (2000), Sheena (2000-2002) and many others all worth noting, not just to establish the quantity of output here, but this locked-in approach to revamping classic mythologies. Most of the offerings noted here are not by the same creators, even when using the same characters. It was a true public domain free for all. But as with essentially everything in western culture, 9/11 changes it all and this naive yet over-sexed indulgence in adventure gives way to new things. The movement would not end with a whimper though, and some of the most notable entries into this niche came at the very end.
Via Brisco County, and plenty of cameos in Hercules, Bruce Campbell is a godfather of ’90s camp adventure. It is fitting that Action Pack came to an end with two shows, one being the Campbell vehicle Jack of All Trades (2000). Although short run, this unique steampunk take on Colonial era fake history helps bookend a decade of entertainment with quality. The other of the final Action Pack shows, Cleopatra 2525 (2000-2001), serves more to predict the Bimbo Brutale era that would define the ’00s, amping the plastic eye candy up even further and venturing more into sci-fi at the same time. Camp fantasy may have ended, but art is always a fluid evolution.
Two shows to last just a little bit longer than those in Action Pack have their own strengths as well. Dark Knight (2000-2002) aka Darkest Knight aka Fantasy Quest, based on Crusade era tales of knights, has one of the boldest CGI looks. But it is Relic Hunter (1999-2002) which truly stands out. With Lara Croft and Indiana Jones both as clear creative entry points, the lead character Sydney Fox, played by Tia Carrere, subverts sexist tropes in some compelling, subtle ways. Much like the Mortal Kombat-based show, the stories are more about dating than adventure. Otherwise completely fearless, Fox’s defining hindrance is her obsession with finding a decent boyfriend. Meanwhile, nearly every episode centers around one of her toxic exes showing up. Yet, the show doesn’t slut shame Fox, nor present her as weak for wanting to date a lot. Rather, the narratives highlight how strong she is for ditching these men and how much of simps they become for constantly trying to get back with her. Still, despite all, Fox has not given up on love, and the one character who looks weak is her professional partner who just can’t work up the courage to confess his feelings to her, even though it is clear to the audience that she would melt for him. While a bit like the unacknowledged love in X-Files (1993-2018), the overall effect is more akin to later CW soap mysteries and superhero series.
Camp and fantasy, of course, will never die. And hopefully rudimentary CGI won’t ever die either. But it is the concentration of these elements together, in such large quantities, which makes the ’90s and early ’00s notable. Especially given the ways edgier socio-sexual themes found a prolific home in this much more family friendly style. If a truly large reappraisal of these shows were to occur, it might come across as willfully ignorant escapism. Yet, while it would be a ridiculous stretch to call these shows grand artistic works of representation, sex positivity, or feminism, these themes still underlie the movement. Stripped of such subtext, the shows would be different beasts entirely, with an ineffable charisma removed. There is also a shadow side to the naiveté at play, with episodes often dipping into Orientalism and white savior themes. But just as these shows are not overtly counter cultural, they are also for the most part not blatantly bigoted. Those wanting ’90s escapism that definitely knew the score, Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987-1994) is always there for you. The thing is, sometimes you just need a little bit of Xena’s ferocity to make your skin shiver. Besides, lovers of high-minded cinema still deserve a little fluffy treat that caters to their sensibilities. ★
