By Nick Schager
By Inkoo Kang
By Stephanie Zacharek
By Amanda Lewis
By Ily Goyanes
By Alan Scherstuhl
By Ciara LaVelle
By Chuck Wilson
Along the way to redemption, Hercules is reduced by society to a celebrity -- the Greek equivalent of a sports star defeating an opposing team of monsters. (Those who witnessed Michael Jordan's valor in game five of the NBA finals might not consider sports stardom a comedown.) If you're after a deeply humorous account of a hero's life, you'd do better with the chapter on Hercules in Edith Hamilton's Mythology -- it's a masterpiece of informed drollery, studded with pointed comments such as, "Intelligence did not figure strongly in anything he did and was often conspicuously absent." Hamilton finds it amusing that the Greeks would love this brawny figure despite "his simplicity and blundering stupidity; his inability not to get roaring drunk in a house where someone was dead." Now that would be a daring scene for Disney.
On TV specials and in magazine promos, the Disney team to a man and woman -- execs, animators, producers -- has espoused a party line. They tell us they didn't want to make this movie "academic," despite its status as the first Disney cartoon based on a classical myth. Sure enough, in the opening minutes Charlton Heston's senatorial tones give way to a gospel Greek chorus; they revolt against making the story sound like "some Greek tragedy" instead of the supposedly rollicking adventure we're about to see. Actually, what's "academic" about Hercules isn't the few remnants of the Greek legend left in it but the tried-and-untrue Disney motifs strewn throughout. The Greek myths weren't meant for libraries. They were part of the popular art of their time, and up until the last part of the Twentieth Century they've been part of the popular art of all time. It's the Disney brand of legendry that's grown tired.
The irreverence that Musker and Clements have made their specialty comes off as a restless, reckless tic. They lampoon Hercules' commercial marketing in the agora -- they seem to think that their awareness of Disney-style exploitation excuses their practice of it. The filmmakers' rationalization rests on the clay feet of their hero. It's as if they're telling critics, "We're not doing what the hucksters in the film do, merchandising an icon of dumb valor; we're merchandising a man who, as our theme song says, is willing to sacrifice, endure pain, and 'Go the Distance.'" (Gee, wasn't that Stallone's goal in Rocky?) In this film it's hard to distinguish self-criticism from self-promotion. Some of it is funny: I laughed when Pain (or was it Panic?) reported to Hades in Air-Herc sandals. But doesn't the gag about Hercules becoming an action figure merely sell the action figure in real life? (Disney's marketing partners in Hercules are Mattel, McDonald's and Nestle, which in Europe is marketing a Hercules Wunderkugel.) This movie's overstuffed bag of tricks falls apart because nothing in it is organic or interlocked -- including that kicky chorus, crosshatched out of Dreamgirls and The Gospel at Colonus.
In the shape-changing genie in Aladdin, Musker and Clements hit on a character who could support an anarchic aesthetic and give it a theme -- not "be all that you can be," but "be anything you want to be." And in Robin Williams, who could probably beat IBM's Deep Blue at a game of Trivial Pursuit, they had the ideal performer for an anachronistic spritz through mass entertainment. But at the center of Hercules is a lug who erodes into invisibility under a manic stream of pop consciousness. It's not voice actor Tate Donovan's fault: The script gives him nothing to play except befuddled manliness.
In a new-style Disney cartoon like Hercules, the cartoonists and gag men fritter away their energy, providing enough "in" humor to keep baby sitters and parents awake for 90 minutes. As a subject, Hercules would have been better suited to the nuclear emotions of Ye Olde Disney. What could be more primal for growing boys and girls than the story of a man who doesn't know his own strength -- whose valor is inseparable from temporary insanity? Hercules touches on this tangentially and briefly, when the hero is a gawky adolescent nicknamed "Jercules." But after that it plunges into an unholy mix of sass and sanctimony. The moviemakers repeatedly mock the weak links in classic Disney -- overly cozy forest creatures, ultracute Tom Sawyer-like rascals. Where do they get off? At the inert core of this film rests the same old follow-your-dream stuff, done without any gusto or conviction.
There is some fizzy filigree in Hercules. The British theatrical artist and cartoonist Gerald Scarfe, who did the scarifying design and animation for Pink Floyd -- The Wall, served as the film's production designer. He exerts an astringent influence on the conception of the monsters, the Fates, and Hades, who resembles his voice actor, James Woods, but with jagged teeth and hell-fire hair. (Scarfe has penned his own book, Hades: The Truth at Last.) The casting is on the mark -- Rip Torn and Samantha Eggar as Zeus and Hera, Hal Holbrook and Barbara Barrie as Hercules' earthly parents -- though the pace doesn't allow it to register fully. Susan Egan stands out as Hercules' bad-girl true love, Meg. The character cuts an original figure -- both angular and curvy -- and Egan tags even throwaway lines with such crack musical-comedy inflections that her banter grows seductive. Egan effortlessly glides into Meg's big number, "I Won't Say (I'm in Love)," with the confidence of the lead singer in a Brill Building girl group; the song itself is wistfully catchy, a relief after the go-for-broke gospel numbers. Some other sounds and images stay pleasurably in the mind -- such as the Fates gleefully cutting mortal coils, or Hades pointing towering dumb-cluck Titans in the right direction.
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