The Greatest American Hero (2005)

Review by: Brendon McCullin
Date: 4/1/05

There’s a long history of superhero shows on television. It’s not a distinguished history, just a long one. In all of the attempts to use the trials of the super power endowed as the basis for television fodder, only one show in the genre though was ever created by the mastermind behind The A-Team.

Stephen J. Cannell’s short-lived early 80’s series, The Greatest American Hero, gets the DVD treatment with the Anchor Bay’s release of its first season. Actually, “season” is stretching it just a bit. The show debuted as a mid-season replacement in 1981 – launching after the Super Bowl – and only aired eight episodes.

The story involves a mild-mannered Los Angeles teacher named Ralph Hinkley (William Katt) who, along with FBI agent Bill Maxwell (Robert Culp), has a close encounter with a space ship in the desert. There he’s presented by the aliens with a set of red tights and cape that bestow super powers on the owner. Being that it’s the wacky world of television, Hinkley is promptly ordered to work with Maxwell and almost as quickly loses the instruction book that explains how to use the super suit.

Throughout the episodes, Katt’s Hinkley stumbles around trying to figure out how to use his new super powers and reconciling his liberal politics with those of the extreme right wing, Reagan-era conservative belief’s of Kulp’s Maxwell. Along the way, this being the dawn of the Reagan 80’s, they take on a bunch of Commies and kick their Red butts.

The highlight of watching the series again is in its cheesiness. Hinkley doesn’t just teach high school, he teaches the disadvantaged students, sort of a Sweathogs-lite, most of who look like they should be attending their 10-year reunions rather than class. Kulp doesn’t just play Maxwell as a gung-ho FBI nut job, he layers the role with extra ham. The special effects, impressive to pull off on a TV budget at the time, now mostly look corny.

Fun is the watchword, especially for anyone that fondly remembers the show from childhood. Katt still sports the most interesting white guy curls in the history of television. His girlfriend, played by a young and yummy Connie Selleca, is hot and feisty. The students are led by a pre-Eddie and the Cruisers Michael Pare, doing a Brooklyn accent for a Los Angeles high schooler. The bits with the super suit still illicit intentional laughs. It’s also interesting to watch for the point in the series where the character’s name is changed from Hinkley to Handley after John Hinkley Jr. attempted to assassinate President Reagan.

Then there’s Joey Scarbury’s theme song, possibly the best in the history of television. Mention the show to anyone of a certain age and a chorus of the theme pops out (“Believe it or not, I’m walking on air…”). If the song hadn’t already cemented the series place in pop culture it certainly did as soon as Seinfeld’s George Costanza memorably used his own version of it for his answering machine message.

The extras include a set of fairly extensive interviews with Cannell, Katt, Culp, Selleca and Pare. Better is an unaired pilot from 1986 – The Greatest American Heroine – where Katt’s character is forced to turn the suit over to a young woman.

It might be a product of its time, but The Greatest American Hero remains a fun show to watch. Believe it or not.

(Brendon McCullin is a staff writer for 2 Walls Webzine.)