By 1996, the Hulk had become more than a comic character. He was a cultural pressure point — a symbol of rage, repression, and resilience. He wasn’t just smashing tanks. He was smashing the idea that heroes had to be clean, controlled, and comfortable. Banner broke. Hulk endured. And somewhere between the two, Marvel found one of its most enduring truths.

Putting the Hulk back on television wasn’t a hard choice — the success of X-Men and Spider-Man had impressed creatives — but the Hulk show would have something that set it apart from its forebears, especially his cameo appearances in Iron Man and Fantastic Four. This show had darkness.

From the opening titles, you knew something was different: gone was the bumpy Wasserman ride that X-Men gave us — indeed, the opening theme of The Incredible Hulk echoes Danny Elfman’s Batman more than anything Marvel had done before. But it works.

Showcasing Banner’s life with Betty and twisting his dreamscape into the Hulk’s permanent fury as the title card kicks in, it’s the perfect companion to this first season of episodes.

There’s a lot to introduce in this first episode. But Return of the Beast (Part 1) is action-packed and doesn’t let up or let you breathe. Every single act ends with a weapon being fired at the Hulk, leaving us with a cliffhanger that begs us to return.

A strong start to an excellent first season. In fact, one could even call it a smash hit!

The Hulk smashed his way into comics in The Incredible Hulk #1 (May 1962), created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby. Inspired by Frankenstein, Jekyll and Hyde, and Cold War anxieties, the story introduced Bruce Banner — a brilliant but emotionally repressed physicist — who saves a teenager from a gamma bomb test and absorbs the radiation himself. What follows isn’t just mutation. It’s fracture. Banner becomes the Hulk: a creature of uncontrollable rage, triggered by stress and emotion, embodying everything Banner cannot express. From the outset, Marvel didn’t frame him as a hero. He was a warning. A walking consequence.

The early comics struggled to contain him. Cancelled after six issues, Hulk found new life as a guest star — clashing with the Fantastic Four, joining the Avengers, and eventually anchoring Tales to Astonish. His popularity surged not because he fit the mould, but because he broke it. Hulk was raw emotion, unfiltered power, and a metaphor for everything America feared: nuclear fallout, psychological instability, and the violence lurking beneath civility. By the ’70s and ’80s, writers like Len Wein and Bill Mantlo began threading deeper psychological nuance into the mythos, laying groundwork for the layered takes that would follow.

Outside the comics, Hulk’s cultural footprint widened dramatically with the 1978 live-action television series. Bill Bixby’s David Banner (renamed for the show) was a soft-spoken fugitive, wandering from town to town, trying to cure himself while helping others. Lou Ferrigno’s silent, green-skinned Hulk brought physicality and pathos — a monster who didn’t speak, but always felt. The series ran for five seasons and spawned several TV movies, including crossovers with Thor and Daredevil. It wasn’t flashy, but it was formative — embedding the Hulk into pop culture as a tragic icon.

Animation kept Hulk in circulation. He appeared in The Marvel Super Heroes in the ’60s, Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends in the ’80s, and various ensemble projects. These versions leaned into spectacle — Hulk as a force of nature, often misunderstood, occasionally heroic. But the core remained: a man at war with himself, a monster born of mercy, and a myth that refused to settle.

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