On film, Hercules and his adventures have been retold, remolded, recast, and retread nearly as many times as Dracula. Not quite “done to death”, the benefactor of mankind’s cinematic history also resembles the ancient practice from which he was born: the oral tradition. These are the oldest stories we know. Older than The Epic of Gilgamesh, older than The Christian Bible, the tales told by common people around campfires, and in markets and amphitheaters, are, as far as we know, the first stories. Think about that for a moment. We’re talking about the original art of storytelling. The raconteurs of Ancient Greece could, in a way, be considered partially responsible for every story we know. Our unceasing need to define the human condition in drama began with Greek Mythology. In that tradition, told person to person, and rarely written as permanent documents, these tales take many shapes, and multiple versions are known and told around the world. Those of Hercules are no exception, but what should remain, in any version of his story, is his persistence in doing great deeds for the sake of a better world. That characteristic, though not always done well, became commonplace in the 90s.
I know his performance (even in the feature length movies) never hit theaters, but I would be remiss not to mention the great, the uncoordinated, the freakishly beautiful Kevin Sorbo. For my generation, just as Steve Reeves and his closest predecessors shaped the image of Herc for my parents, Mr. Sorbo, looking like the cover of a romance novel, was that ultimate hero through and through. He wasn’t the finest acting talent, he wasn’t the biggest body we had ever seen, and he was tragically bereft of facial hair, but the character presented by producer Sam Raimi (yeah, THAT Sam Raimi), and series creator Christian Williams, was exactly the kind of man I dreamed I would someday become. He was tall, attractive, smart, powerful, and always did the right thing. “A strength surpassed only by the power of his heart”, the opening narration sappily proclaimed. To me, that almost sounded like a call to action. It still sounds like some sort of masculine commandment to which we should all adhere, “The strength of thy heart shall surpass the strength of thy body always”.
In Hercules and the Underworld (1994), for example, the now married Hercules is called on to save a village from an evil hole (linked directly to Hades). The nubile Iole is sent on this Hercules errand, but secretly plans to seduce him, steal him from Deianeira, and kill him in the service of his archenemy, Hera. This fact is not revealed to the good guys until after he has already left on the trek to Iole’s home, but Herc has known it all along. Not only does he resist the beautiful young woman’s indelible charms (even after she has disrobed in a not so subtle instigation), he convinces her to follow her heart and leave this role behind to be with her loving boyfriend. Sound cornball? It is! The acting is poor, the writing is dorky, it utilized effects practices well before the techniques had been honed, and it made New Zealand look like Nebraska. Sure, they scouted a variety of interesting locations, but I was shocked to discover it shared the terrain of the gorgeous Lord of the Rings movies. Sorbo’s sincere approach to the role made for an appealing character in my childhood, but now, he’s almost too good. He is never really struggling to keep his hands off the willing, but irresolute and conflicted Iole. In the Sorbo TV movies, as with any other recent portrayals of Hercules, he manages to be the least interesting character.
In 1997, to my dismay, Disney attempted an adaptation of Hercules’ legend. Watching it again, I can’t quite see what had upset me so. It’s cute, works a lot of the labors in via montage, manages to land a few jokes, and it trucks along rather speedily. One thing that might have bugged me at age 10, and definitely stuck out at age 27, was how weird it is to have the muses (only 6 of them) singing gospel songs. It’s not like they were just performing in the style of gospel music, they actually end many of their numbers with the words, “and that’s the gospel truth”. What the hell kind of sense does that make? I don’t recall Hercules showing up in Leviticus.
Aside from that goofy choice, the film is even guiltier than the Sorbo productions of writing Hercules blandly. It gets off to an interesting start with a young Hercules, unaware of his divine relations, and his incredible strength is a mystery. Not a bad idea. When the truth is revealed, however, he goes off whining in song, finds a satyr (Danny Devito) to train him… and stops developing. Not even halfway through, he becomes the super wholesome hero, and it’s up to his fellow cast of characters to move the story along. Sure, when tragedy strikes, he feels some sadness, but other than that, he’s missing any thought more complicated than “Girl: Pretty”. Megara (Herc’s true-to-source first love) is far more complex and interesting, but her “oops, I was supposed to use you but wound up loving you” arch is something we have seen in several teen movies. Overall, it’s not a terrible movie — full of jokes at the expense of sports culture, and a few cute nods to other Greek Myths. It would be another 17 years before Hercules landed his next titular turn in cinema, and that one… is terrible.
Starring the well-meaning and totally lost Kellan Lutz (from some Twilight movies) The Legend of Hercules is the latest waste of time straight out of the Zach Snyder School of Filmmaking. You saw it in 300, you saw it in Man of Steel, and you saw it in movies making fun of 300. It’s a little trick called “ramping”. It’s the sudden shift in film speed which is typically used to slow the pace of the action at a particularly photogenic moment almost to a pause, then kinetically slam it up again. It was barely cool the first time we saw it, and it was cliché by the time 300 reached its third act. Action filmmakers! Hear me! Ramping is dumb! Especially when you use it (as it was in The Legend of Hercules) at moments where the slowed image is not unique, interesting, or well composed. A couple fight scenes found here might have been exciting, had they not been slowed to a crawl at every moment of impact. The damn thing is a joke all around. The camera work is garbage, the writing is crummy, it looks cheap, and Lutz’s performance is so plain, so one-dimensional, you wonder at times if they regularly employed a life-size cardboard stand-in (although, being released in January of 2014, that meant it was better than I, Frankenstein by default). They almost did right by including the Mythological detail of his birth name being changed from Alcides to Hercules, but even then, the event was stripped of any dramatic heft by excluding him murdering his first wife in a Hera-driven madness. Homeboy’s got some tragedy grist for the cinema mill, now if only a filmmaker were brave enough to bring it to the character on the big screen.
Kellan Lutz’s Hercules was all wholesome, as well, just as in the case of the previous characterizations my generation has witnessed. I might recall him taking revenge on his stepfather at the climax, but I can’t remember. Frankly, after sitting through those 90 minutes of grey, slow motion nonsense, I am surprised I can remember how to form these run-on sentences. Ever since the early 90s, Hercules has been a moral, kind, and focused protector. That’s not a bad way to go. In fact, that is the most accurate adaptation of the character from Classical Mythology, but give him something to do as a human! Give him a moment of doubt. Let him fail horribly, or lose loved ones. Make him change for the better. The benefactor of mankind is most certainly an earned epithet in his ancient tales, and you see his story in everything. Just examine the basic premise: a god, or god-like character, gives his son to save the world. That’s Superman. That’s Jesus Christ. Yes, he is a superhuman, but he is still human. If you can’t literally cut him, then cut him emotionally, and he will bleed. Let’s see his character in full-flesh and lion skin (and beard). This is one of the oldest and most popular heroes in the history of civilization, and he has yet to receive a great work of film bearing his name. He has made a few excellent appearances for the sake of other characters (Jason and the Argonauts, where he is played by the delightful Nigel Green, to name one), but any part of his own tale deserves a quality telling. The strongest man in the world, in his true form, is an honorable man. Now, give him an honorable film.
Part 1: This Is A Man’s World: Hercules In The Italian “Sword And Sandal” Era
Part 2: Quantity Over Quality: Hercules Gets Pumped Up
