I once had a friend -- the father of two teenaged daughters -- who predicted the end of civilization as we know it and blamed the impending doom and economic collapse on the advent of designer jeans. At the time, being a Lee-jeans-wearing non-parent, I could afford to laugh, but I didn't laugh long -- for Calvin Klein and his $50 blue jeans looks like a piker next to Nike and their $180 sneakers, and my daughter teeters on the edge of adolescence. Now, I have reason to laugh again. That Disney, the mother of all merchandisers, should spoof the Swoosh, not to mention the Magic Kingdom itself, is just one more thing to like in a movie chock full of likeable things. As much as I appreciate my 10-year-old getting a message about the difference between real heroes and those only good for spawning action figures, I really love getting plied with swifter-than-Hermes, sophisticated sight-gags (mosaic billboards and “Buns of Bronze” workout scrolls), and witty, silly, self-parodying dialogue (Hades, proclaiming his realm is “a small underworld, after all”). Playing fast and loose with the classic myth, Musker & Clements' Hercules is a true Olympian, fathered by Zeus (Torn) and mothered by Hera (Egger). But Hades (Woods), the god who hates his job, envisions a loftier domain, and since the Fates have warned him that Hercules will thwart his ascension, he has his minions -- Pain (Goldthwait) and Panic (Frewer) -- kidnap the infant. Despite his adoption by a kindly couple, Hercules is quite the misfit among regular mortals, and therefore beseeches a statue of Zeus for answers regarding his identity. The statue comes to life and Zeus advises his son to enlist a world-weary satyr named Philoctetes (DeVito) as his mentor so that he can become a true hero and return to Olympus. Faster than you can say “Yoda,” Phil whips Herc into shape and deems him ready for action. They set out for Thebes (“The Big Olive,” it seems, is badly in need of a hero). En route, they encounter Megara, a cynical, tough-talking dame (with a marshmallow center) doing a little side job for Hades in hopes of renegotiating her contract. Herc does his strong man thing and is well on his way to hunkdom, with all the accompanying endorsement opportunities. Hercules
is filled with rich, classical visual imagery and zips along with thoroughly modern mischief. Can we ever look at a pair of Nikes again without mentally imaging Air Herc sandals? The cast is nothing short of sensational (especially Woods, who gives us the most memorable and oddly likeable villain since Cruella DeVil) and the animators wisely imbue their drawings with the actors' attributes -- right down to Hermes' (Shaffer's) shades. All the cast members seem to relish their roles and their zest is infectious. How can we resist joining in? For nothing is sacred when, in the very opening scene, the august voice of Charlton Heston's narrator tells one of the gospel chorus Muses, “You go, girl!” I did. I would again.