Have you ever entered a movie with such strong preconceptions that you’ve already convinced youself that you’re going to hate every single second of it? That’s exactly the mindset I was in when I clicked play on Dwayne Johnson’s 2014 version of Hercules; one of those revisionist comic book adaptations that saw the original creator (Steve Moore) struggling to have his name removed from the credits. Adding to the rather hostile mood I was feeling was the fact that I’d utterly forgotten that it was helmed by none other than über problematic director Brett Ratner; but nethertheless I decided to persevere because, if nothing else, I could at least deliver a string of snarky comments such as asking for the Clash Of The Titans remake to come back because all was forgiven. However, while wading through the film, a miracle worthy of the Gods occurred – instead at sneering at another bland attempt to lightning strike some life into a classic hero, Hercules actually managed to hold my interest despite featuring one of those advertising campaigns that flat out lied its ass off…
The legend of Hercules is known far and wide thanks to this alleged demigod not only being hailed the son of the fabled Zeus, but his heritage bestowing upon him mighty, unsurpassed strength. Further adding to his fame is the tales of his twelve labours that saw him tick off a checklist of insurmountable tasks that included the culling of Hydras and vanquishing of giant lions. But what if the legend of Hercules was just that, a legend – and the truth was something a bit more tragic? This is what we discover when we meet the actual Hercules, a man with admittedly impressive skills and strength, who has bolstered his talents with a found family of fellow misfits and makes a living as a mercenary.
Joined by the cynical, knife-flinging Autolycus; former king turned whacked-out prophet, Amphiaraus; Amazon arrow twanger, Atalanta; animalistic barbarian, Tydeus and Iolaus, Hercules’ hype-man and nephew, Herc’s crew answer the deperate call of King Cotys of Thrace to train their armies in the ways of war. It seems that his kingdom is being threatened by a bloodthirsty warlord named Rhesus, but rather than taking the time to train the Thracians properly, Cotys insists that Hercules wades in with them anyway, hoping that the legendary powers of the demigod will be enough to turn the tide.
After a vicious battle, Hercules and his fellow warriors emerge victorious, but at a cost after about half of the untrained Thracian army falls in battle. However, after finally teaching the troops to become a highly efficient unit, two things become worryingly aparent: firstly, regardless of the accuracy of his legends, Hercules’ past trauma over the murder of his wife and children is causing him to hold back. But far more disturbing is the fact that Cotys hasn’t been entirely truthful about the details of this war and as Herc and the gang prove to be slow on the uptake, could it be that they’ve made a mistake larger than a Titan’s prostate?
Beyond the controversy over the infamous director and the fact that the choice of Dwayne Johnson playing Hercules seems like yet another cringe inducing example of him scratching that hero-worship itch he often has, fantasy movies of the 2010s tended to be of a lackluster sort. With poor scripts, weak CGI and a sense most of them have been hamstrung by studio interference that miss the point of the original concept, I wasn’t particularly expecting Hercules to be anything different, especially when I also discovered that the ad campaign had been bullshitting its arse off. While the film does indeed boast all the CGI beasties you’d expect from an adventure that has Johnson squaring off against various mythical lizards or hounds with multiple heads, the film actually reveals this to all be hyperbole thanks to Reece Ritchie’s excitable character furiously trying to riff off Paul Bettany’s act from A Knight’s Tale. All the sequences of writhing Hydas, monster boars and vague hints of centaurs and Cerebus are revealed to be either vast exaggerations or hallucinations caused in the heat of battle, which even throws the origins of Hercules himself into doubt.
On paper, it sounds like exact type of cop-out that would play a lot better in a darker, independent type of film (think The Northman) rather than the latest big, bombastic blockbuster to feature the bulging results of Dwayne Johnson’s workout routine. In fact, there are times where you can feel the movie straining against its PG-13 leash to head in the sort of gritty direction of John Milius’ Conan The Barbarian; but despite having to disappoint the kids in the audience by revealing that there’s no actual monsters in this thing, the twists, and some spirited battle sequences manage to keep the film surprisingly watchable. For a start, while the notion that the “true” Hercules may be allowing his legend to grow beyond him is actually quite an interesting notion and it also stops the character from feeling too overpowered when he’s required to be in peril. Unfortunately, while that winning charisma is still in effect, once again Johnson turns in another performance that’s virtually identical to most of his others at the time – a gentle-souled hulk with an affable personality.
However, the rest of the cast manage to do their own forms of heavy lifting.
While some of the cast are only distinguished by their character’s fighting styles, there’s a nice group of character actors here that manage to keep things ticking over nicely. Rebecca Ferguson is acting like she’s Connie Booth in Gladiator as a mother stuck between her son and a mad dictator, Rufus Sewell is allowed to be as sarcastic as humanly possible as the more cynical member of Herc’s troupe and Ian McShane is obviously having fun as the frequently tripping Amphiaraus, who is utterly without fear due to a vision already clueing him in to when he’s actually due to die. However, in something of a welcome twist, it’s genuinely fun to see the usually frail looking John Hurt playing a duplicitous king who is ultimately revealed to be the bloodthirsty true villain. Watching him rant and rave in a despotic rage only three years before his death shows that he still had the goods in his winter years, especially when compared to whatever the Hell Joseph Fiennes is up to with his performance.
If I’m making Hercules out to seem like some sort of hidden classic, then I admit I may have overshot, but considering I was expecting the film to be as enjoyable as root canal surgery with flint tools, it’s a damn sight more fun than I thought it was gonna be. And even if the sight of Dwayne Johnson battering green, tattooed enemies with a giant club doesn’t float your boat, the attempted deconstruction of one of literature’s greatest myths proves that there’s at least some brains among the brawn.
Johnson may frequently look bored playing a more sullen Hercules while kitted out in a scraggly wig and lion skin combo, but some interesting quirks makes the film go down far smoother than you’d expect. Let’s put it this way, the fact that this film doesn’t suck as much as it should have may be the most impressive labour Hercules has ever performed.
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