Hercules

“What a load of crap!” So exclaims a nameless pillager in the first few minutes of Hercules, rudely interrupting the opening prologue detailing the mythological hero’s godly lineage and legendary feats. He and his ilk are nonetheless soon dispatched by the film’s namesake (Dwayne Johnson) and his allies, but he still sets the tone of the entire movie. There are no gods or fantastical happenings in this telling of the legend, no serious tone or conflated sense of honor. In fact, several fabled figures, creatures, and events are blatantly scoured of all their mythic feel, and replaced with action clichés and smartass attitude. It’s very ridiculous. But no more ridiculous than Clash of the Titans or 300, and those movies took everything seriously (by action flick standards, at least). Hercules is many times more fun than either of them because it doesn't.

In this version of the story, all the legends of the eponymous hero (being the son of Zeus, his 12 labors) are exaggerated to strike fear in the hearts of his enemies. In reality, he’s the leader of a ragtag band of mercenaries (all of whom are based on characters of Greek myth, and all similarly brought down to Earth). For their last payday before they retire to start a normal life, they are hired by the King of Thrace (John Hurt) to train their army to defeat a rival faction in a civil war. As they prepare for battle, Herc is haunted by nightmares of the deaths of his wife and children, which are something of a mystery.

I counted a few action clichés in that description, and the movie has more of them. A lot more. It’s also extremely predictable if you’ve seen just about any action movie, any at all. But it works because it’s as much of a comedy as it is an action movie, maybe more. The battles and sword-fighting teeter between slapstick comedy and cartoon, the physical feats of strength are so sublimely, hilariously excessive. And when the dialogue doesn’t consist of wisecracking, every supposed-to-be-serious exchange is delivered with brooding and yelling that’s gloriously terrible as only talented actors are capable of.

Everyone knows just how goofy a picture they’re in and hams it up accordingly. Johnson in the title role is the most perfect physical casting since Arnold Schwarzenegger as Conan, but it’s his sense of humor that makes him so fitting as this particular Hercules. The villains chew the scenery quite well, and Herc’s merry band of sidekicks add great banter and comic relief. Especially Ian McShane as a wisecracking, stoned-looking seer who’s very bad at his job (the only thing is he made me wish a little bit for an R-rating; not only could excessive gore have possibly been even funnier, but there’s a few occasions where McShane resurrecting some Deadwood-level swearing just might have been appropriate).

The film’s not as fully developed, or as imaginative and exciting, as many action pictures out there, or even the best in Johnson’s repertoire (including the similarly ridiculous The Scorpion King). But it’s light and good fun, all the more so because it’s not only unserious, but seemingly intent on being that way. It’s definitely not the best blockbuster of the summer, but it could be the funniest.