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During a recent trip to the annual Motor City Comic Con, a friend of mine was hoping to have a life-long dream become a reality. Not only would he be able to meet the Incredible Hulk himself, Lou Ferrigno, but he would have him autograph an old VHS copy of one of his legendary Hercules films. After shaking the big brute’s hand, he gave him the tape and politely asked if he would sign it. Instead of complying, Ferrigno said that now having the tape in his hand, he could not give it back. After some harsh words, my friend got the tape back and walked away from the table, a little confused and forever changed. Why would Ferrigno insist upon keeping the tape? Is he ashamed of his work in those films? If the answer is yes, then I hereby assure Ferrigno that he is so very wrong in his shameful thinking. His two Hercules films, Hercules (1983) and The Adventures of Hercules (1984), are not only groundbreaking cinema, but profound lessons on the state of human existence. Anyone who watches one of these films for the first time will come away forever spiritually changed and may walk with a limp for days. The fact that these films come from the blessed mind of Star Crash creator Luigi Cozzi, who is credited on screen under his American name of Lewis Coates, comes as no surprise. Both Hercules films are full of his trademark uber-cheeseball special effects, badly coiffed heroes and nonstop battles with laughable creatures—“gem mint ten” material from the wonderful extreme world of Cozziland. Hercules
begins as most films should—I’m talking to you, Vanity
Fair—by showing us the creation of the universe. Zeus narrates
all this, spewing out lines like, “From the primordial explosion
emerged the fires of chaos merged with darkness and from this union
were born THE ELEMENTS!” So that’s how it went down,
people. Stop guessing already. After that we see a jar floating
through space. After this jar explodes and we see the top still
hanging by a string, we learn that this jar was responsible for
the creation of all the planets. On the moon, we meet a bunch of
Halloween-costumed gods who decide to create a super-powered guy
on Earth, Hercules, to defend all of us weaklings. This super-powered
guy starts out as a super-powered baby who can’t walk or talk
but battles two horrible-looking turd snakes in a early scene. Yes,
that’s right... a baby fights two turd snakes. Anyhoo, this
brave little baby grows up to be big ol’ dopey-lookin’
Lou Ferrigno, complete with poofy feathered hairdo and an uncomfortably
short loin cloth. After the phenomenal worldwide failure of Hercules, it was only natural that a sequel be released the very next year. After once again showing the creation of the universe, The Adventures of Hercules spends about ten minutes showing us a greatest hits collection of footage from the first film. When you’ve got bling bling like that, why not show it off, right? We then meet the gods again, but they’re now “the prime movers of the universe.” The second film’s plot is more silliness, this time about Hercules fighting more creatures so he can find Zeus’ missing seven thunderbolts. Before you know it, Hercules, “the heart and force of the universe,” is in the woods again punching some cheesy fur-covered Star Trek-looking monster in the face. The sequel really starts cooking with gas during its climax, which is so over-the-top that it may only make sense if watched while standing on your head. Hercules squares off in a one-on-one fight against the evil King Minos (William Berger). Hercules and Minos start out fighting as glowing Technicolor animated outlines in space until Minos becomes an animated outline of a dinosaur. Hercules, naturally, becomes the animated outlined of a gorilla. So we watch the classic battle of gorilla vs. dinosaur for a while, until the Hercules/gorilla throws the dinosaur, who has now become a snake, deeper into outer space, where it explodes. You would think that the film could end there, right? Oh no, Hercules has to become super huge and stop the Earth from colliding with the moon. We then get the sensational closing sight of Lou Ferrigno in space with the Earth in one hand and the moon in the other, striking an immortal macho pose. The Hercules films were produced by the brave men of the Cannon Studio, which rose to fame in the ’80s by giving us countless Chuck Norris films and launching the career of on-screen folk hero Jean Claude Van Damme. Surprisingly, the studio is now long out of business and the home-video fate of many of their films, like the Hercules saga, is up in the air. Anyone willing to seek out the Hercules collection can easily find tapes on Ebay or by checking the previously viewed sections of older video stores. Loved ones of those who find these tapes will notice a positive change in outlook, personal hygiene and spiritual beliefs. Some may even be tempted to spray paint the tapes gold and wear them around their necks, but then they run the risk of Mr. Ferrigno showing up and snatching it away. A risk well worth taking, I say. A2P |
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