Hokum with Heart: Hercules & Xena

As I've worked from home over the past couple of weeks, I’ve had two TV shows alternating in the background. Hercules: The Legendary Journeys and Xena: Warrior Princess are icons of the 1990s television landscape. With record-setting syndication statistics, at one time these shows were some of the most-watched the world over. A strong cult following remains, but by-and-large both have fallen into the annals of history, reduced to little more than punchlines to corny jokes by the standards of popular culture today. However, as I've visited them again, I've been struck by just how good-natured these shows are. Sure, they're campy and over-the-top, but there is an earnestness to them noticeably absent from the movies and television of today. Both function as throwbacks to the old swashbucklers of classic Hollywood, and for all their flamboyance, Hercules and Xena have a clear moral compass and ethical grounding; both of them try to have something to say.

Kevin Sorbo as Hercules

Both shows are set in the same universe, with Xena (Lucy Lawless) originally introduced as a villain in Hercules, but after she is redeemed by Kevin Sorbo's swaggering-cowboy take on the iconic Greek hero, she strikes out on her own, which is where her series picks up. Every episode of Hercules is basically a fable, with a clear lesson to be learned and redemption usually at its core. Xena is the more mature show, due to the darker nature of her character, and it usually deals with more complex moral issues and ethical conundrums. Taken together, they function as two sides of the same coin, forming a fascinating whole.

Hercules is the more optimistic of the two, and the harder one to do well, because the show sometimes borders on sentimentality. Sorbo's take on the legendary demigod is at odds with nearly every other conceit of the character, because he plays Hercules as a soft-spoken and easy-going man of honor, more in line with the white-hat cowboys of old Hollywood than the bombastic warrior of other portrayals. He is reluctant to identify himself with his semi-divine status, because in this universe the gods are petty beings who enjoy disrupting the affairs of men simply because it's a Tuesday and they have nothing better to do. He doesn't have a shred of pride to him. So Hercules tends to function more like the classic westerns, each episode serving as a self-contained fable that tries to teach a life lesson. The outlandishness evokes the feeling of an old storybook you'd find on a kid's bookshelf.

Lucy Lawless as Xena

Xena, on the other hand, leans into the elements of fables and fairy stories that serve as cautionary warnings for adults. Both shows deal heavily with the theme of redemption, and where Hercules suggests to us that no one is ever really too far gone, Xena utilizes an older, sometimes wiser approach to remind us that, sometimes, redemption comes at a cost. And for some people, that cost is too high a price to pay. Because of these more mature themes, Xena is a sexier, more violent show, probably why it surpassed Hercules in popularity.

Both shows, to some degree, seek to answer the question “Can violence be redemptive?” And both shows answer, “Sometimes.” But how either show nuances that plays out a bit differently. Hercules says, “It can be, but it’s best to be avoided.” Xena says, “But sometimes it’s the only way.” Both of them deal strongly in the hope that even the worst of people can change and the past can be overcome, but what that costs is examined from two different angles, through the lenses of two different protagonists.

Hercules and Xena have the makings of modern antiheroes because of their pasts. Hercules’s family is unexpectedly wiped out by his wicked stepmother, Hera. Xena used to be a ruthless warlord who left many orphans in her wake. But the key difference between Hercules and Xena and the antiheroes we tend to worship today comes in how they choose to deal with their trauma. Though he initially swears to battle Hera to the end, Hercules chooses not to avenge his family, and instead helps people who are in need—that’s how he ends up redeeming Xena, who comes to see the error of her ways, and then carries on the legacy of helping people on her own moral quest to atone for her past sins. And every now and then the characters come together for a crossover episode. Hercules will turn up in an episode of Xena and vice versa. And when the two are on screen together, it’s absolutely electrifying. Both Sorbo and Lawless are understated actors, and Hercules's plain, awe-shucks demeanor is the perfect counterpoint to Xena's quiet, simmering intensity. They are combustible, but when they finally link up with a common goal, you get the feeling that they're an unstoppable force.

As I watched the two series, I began to wonder what the landscape of television would be today if shows like these were still being made. Modern television laughs at and lambasts shows like Hercules and Xena for their moral fortitude and commitment to rehashing the same old stories, week-in and week-out. Today, a show like Hercules or Xena would be mocked for its archaic ideas and preachy tone. But one must wonder if these are, in fact, the heroes we need now more than ever. Both characters are the antithesis of the modern antihero, which is so commercialized and trendy right now. Hercules and Xena take their darkness and turn it around to find ways to help people who have been forgotten by society and the petty gods of ancient Greece. They don’t lose themselves in their own darkness, but find ways of redeeming it through simple things, like small acts of kindness, or spending time with close friends without the pressure of pretense. It's a far cry from the cynicism of popular movies like Taken or TV shows like House of Cards.

That's the irony of Hercules and Xena. They are didactic, instructional hours of television without the pretentiousness of today's popular high-concept series. But they play their cards straight and fair, and because the actors genuinely seem to be having a good time and don't try to take themselves too seriously, there's an easiness to these shows that make them not only watchable, but likable. It helps, too, that the lessons these shows teach us actually are good lessons to learn. There is a clear sense of right and wrong, good and evil, heroes and villains. And pop culture today recoils against those notions in favor of "moral complexity" and "gray areas," a lack of commitment which is often little more than moral cowardice. Recoiling so hard, in fact, that these older, goofier, simpler shows suddenly become new again, their preachiness becoming good, teachable lessons just waiting to be rediscovered.