The Adventures of Hercules (1985) – Review

Some movies defy logic. Others defy physics. And then there’s The Adventures of Hercules, which loads logic and physics into a giant paper-mâché boulder and hurls it into space while Lou Ferrigno flexes at the camera.

This 1985 Italian-American fever dream (a sequel to 1983’s Hercules) picks up where the last left off: with Hercules (Lou Ferrigno) living it up as a celestial being. But that can’t last; it seems that things aren’t all that great up on Mount Olympus -or whatever celestial habitat this film is passing off as the home of the gods – and Herc will have to handle a classic cosmic dilemma. Turns out that Zeus (Claudio Cassinelli), the father of the gods, has had his Seven Mighty Thunderbolts stolen by a quartet of pissy gods: Aphrodite (Margie Newton), Hera (Maria Rosaria Omaggio), Poseidon (Ferdinando Poggi), and… Flora (Laura Lenzi)? (Yes, the goddess of gardening, because, why not?) Apparently, they don’t like how Zeus is running things, and this is their idea of how to orchestrate a palace coup.

 

The Legion of Doom?

Without his magical bolts, Zeus is reduced to a toga-wearing retiree yelling at clouds. Worse, the Moon is now on a kamikaze path toward Earth—because, naturally, lightning bolts were somehow holding that in place too. Down below, humanity is panicking (as one does), and two sisters, Urania (Milly Carlucici) and Glaucia (Sonia Viviani), consult the mysterious Little People—tiny, sparkly advisors who speak in vague riddles and glitter. They declare only one being can stop this lunar disaster: Hercules! But Zeus isn’t so sure. He’s hesitant, probably because last time Herc was on Earth, he left behind a trail of broken pillars and broken hearts. Still, desperate times call for immortal muscle, so Zeus finally teleports Hercules down from the heavens to punch things until the problem is solved.

 

“Excellent, it was so boring being a constellation.”

Not to be outdone, the rogue gods counter by reviving King Minos (William Berger), a dude known for dooming people to the labyrinth of the Minotaur, who teams up with the ancient inventor Dedalos (Eva Robbins), because what better way to beat divine power than with SCIENCE? (Insert dramatic thunderclap.) With monsters hiding the thunderbolts all across the galaxy, Hercules embarks on a star-hopping, bicep-flexing adventure to retrieve the bolts, punch some cosmic beasts, and maybe teach the Moon some manners.

 

Let the mythological madness begin.

First up on Hercules’ intergalactic to-do list: wrestle a giant ape-like creature that looks like it escaped from a low-budget Bigfoot documentary. Herc flexes, punches, and probably yells something heroic, and boom, thunderbolt #1 is his. One down, six to go. Meanwhile, the four petty gods are off in the background cooking up their evil plan, which is running into a few snags as the recently resurrected King Minos isn’t quite following orders, and his team-up with a mad inventor could lead to even more complications for the gods.

 

Pinky in the Brain, an early Greek version.

Back on Earth, Hercules joins forces with Glaucia to save her sister Urania, who’s been kidnapped by what can only be described as the rejected cousins of the Putties from Power Rangers, only even more disgusting. They’re gross, slimy, and show up in large, squishy numbers. Outnumbered and out-gooed, our heroes make a dramatic escape into a conveniently placed cave full of ominous stone statues (which is never a red flag).

 

“Sure, it may look like a knock-off Zardoz, but I bet it’s safe.”

Inside, they meet Euryale (Serena Grandi), who at first seems friendly until she casually strolls off and transforms into a scorpion-tailed, snake-haired nightmare with the personality of a disgruntled Medusa on a bad hair day. Yep, she’s a Gorgon. Time for Plan B. Luckily, Hercules is prepared with his shiny shield mirror trick, and after some classic mythological manoeuvring, he avoids turning into a lawn ornament and turns Euryale into a pile of scaly regret. Cue thunderbolt #2, which he plucks like a prize from a claw machine. Two thunderbolts down. Several monsters, a rogue king, and possibly more slime to go.

 

Hercules vs. Bargain Basement Medusa.

Hercules and the two sisters hop on a boat to yet another ominous island because clearly, peace and quiet are not on the itinerary. They wander into a haunted forest where creepy human dolls dangle from trees like nightmare-themed Christmas ornaments. Things escalate quickly when a demonic sorcerer-knight (looking like a goth Lancelot with anger issues) jumps out swinging. Hercules, unfazed as always, pins him to a tree with little to no effort. That’s one evil knight down, and thunderbolt #3 up for grabs!

 

Did this knight wander in from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland?

But no time to rest, Glaucia gets snatched by soldiers working for a high priest who’s really into volcano-themed sacrifices. She’s about to be flambéed for the glory of a fiery beast named Antaeus, but Urania swoops in with the rescue. Meanwhile, Hercules suplexes Antaeus around the Earth like a mythological WWE champ until the fire monster crash-lands in the ocean like a soggy sparkler. Ta-da! Thunderbolt #4!

 

Hercules vs. a Bug Zapper.

Next stop: An Amazon smackdown. Hercules and Glaucia run into a tribe of fierce masked warrior women who don’t care for uninvited guests. Why do they wear creepy masks? Who knows? Who cares? Sadly, Hercules is caught in an electrical net and knocked out and soon found tied up (standard procedure at this point) in a strange web in the lair of Arachne (Pamela Prati), the Spider Queen, but Urania gives him a wake-up call just in time. He breaks free, strangles Arachne and retrieves Thunderbolt #5.

Note: Hercules strangling a woman to death is probably the most character-accurate thing this movie has done up to this point.

With five bolts in hand, our mythic trio blasts off into space…because, why not? Urania helpfully reveals thunderbolt #6 is hidden in a rock, like a cosmic Easter egg. But plot twist! Glaucia had been murdered by Poseidon and replaced by an evil doppelganger, who threatens to kill Urania if Hercules doesn’t get with the program. Enter King Minos, again, who’s somehow still in the game and wants Hercules to join “Team Evil Science.” Classic villain move. It’s here that things go fully bananas: Minos turns into a space dinosaur, because sure, that’s science now. Not to be outdone, Hercules turns into a space gorilla with galaxy-sized muscles and absolutely wrecks Jurassic Minos into extinction.

 

Well…um, yeah, this happens.

Finally, Urania drops a bombshell: she’s Hera’s daughter (surprise family drama!) and the seventh thunderbolt is literally inside her. She nobly sacrifices herself by letting Hera give her the “kiss of death,” which sounds romantic but is more “lethal smooch from your vengeful goddess mom.” Supercharged with all seven bolts, Zeus helps Hercules go full cosmic—he grows so big he can literally reposition planets like furniture. He gently nudges the Moon back into orbit like it’s a beach ball and saves Earth from becoming cosmic roadkill.

 

Superman, eat your heart out.

With the universe saved, Zeus forgives Hera and the other gods for rebelling so that peace can reign now and forever on both Olympus and Earth. He also resurrects Urania and makes her the Muse of space and astrology, which is kind of like winning an Oscar but with better perks. And Hercules, well, he goes back to Olympus and pretends to be a constellation again. The end. And yes, that all really happened. Sort of.

 

“I’m shocked that people down there still pray to us.”

But how does this film stack up against the Greek mythology? Well, let’s say it’s less a faithful retelling of Greek mythology and more a disco-flavoured fever dream with lightning bolts. It gets just about everything wrong—but it’s gloriously, cheesily wrong. Think of it as a Hercules movie made by someone whose only exposure to mythology was a comic book scribbled on a napkin in a laser tag arena.

 

1. The Thunderbolts Are Just… Lying Around?

In the film, Zeus loses his thunderbolts (yes, plural) and tasks Hercules with recovering them. Greek mythology treats the thunderbolt as one, not a Pokémon collectible set. It’s the singular, divine weapon of Zeus—crafted by the Cyclopes—and not something you misplace like TV remotes.

 

2. Zeus and Company as Literal Space Gods

The Olympians reside atop Mount Olympus, an actual mountain in Greece, but in this film, the gods chill on a variety of planetary bodies, with vibes somewhere between Flash Gordon set and a disco ball. Mount Olympus? That’s for amateurs.

 

3. The sisters Urania and Glaucia.

These characters are completely made-up. Urania is a Muse in Greek myth (of astronomy, not astrology), but here she’s a cosmic sidekick and only becomes a Muse after dying. Glaucia has no mythological basis and mostly serves as damsel bait.

 

4. The Villain King Minos.

Minos was a complex character; sometimes wise, sometimes cruel, but he wasn’t a mad scientist sorcerer. Here, he’s basically a campy Bond villain who wants to conquer the universe with “science.” Giving us such wonderful tidbits as, “Science and chaos have given me the power to eliminate you all!”

 

So, these are the enemies of science?

This film plays like Greek mythology filtered through a ‘70s prog rock album cover, written by someone who once skimmed a mythology book—upside down. But you don’t watch it for accuracy. You watch it for glowing thunderbolts, bad dubbing, slow-motion fights, and the sheer audacity of its nonsense.

Stray Observations:

• As was the case with 1965’s Hercules the Avenger, which consisted mostly of footage from previous films, The Adventure of Hercules consists of about 35 minutes of new footage.
• Minos is resurrected by having the blood of a slain warrior poured over his desiccated skeleton, which seems more like a Dracula thing, if you ask me.
• The fire monster called up by the high priest is reminiscent of the Monster from the Id from the movie Forbidden Planet when it first appears.
• Hercules is told that Urania received her powers from her adopted mother. I’m not sure if that’s how inherited traits work.
• The “Space Dinosaur” and “Space Gorilla” fight was clearly borrowed from the classic T-Rex vs Kong fight in the original 1933 classic King Kong. And by “borrowed,” I mean they blatantly traced the fight sequence.
• The two “little people” who advise Urania reminded me more of the twin fairies from Mothra than anything from Greek mythology.

 

“We need you to go and fight Godzilla next.”

Director Luigi Cozzi once again proves that if you can’t make it good, you might as well make it weird. And Ferrigno? He’s having a great time, possibly unaware that the monsters were added in post-production, perhaps aware but beyond caring because he’s Lou freaking Ferrigno. And, once again, Ferrigno is dubbed by a man who sounds like he just woke up from a nap, struts through the film in a loincloth, lifting things, flexing meaningfully, and punching problems until they go away. Ferrigno’s Hercules is less a cunning hero than a musclebound wanderer, solving nearly every problem by lifting, throwing, or punching it into submission.

 

“Look, there’s a boulder I could throw.”

Thematically, the movie plays fast and loose with classical mythology. Greek gods mingle with sci-fi gadgets and cosmic prophecies. Zeus is portrayed like a weary CEO of Olympus, and the “thunderbolts” resemble glowing batons from a disco-themed light show. There is little concern for fidelity to mythological source material. Cozzi’s script treats mythology as a buffet of cool-sounding names and vaguely magical artifacts, mixed and matched for maximum spectacle. While the film lacks the polish of its Hollywood counterparts, it compensates with creativity and enthusiasm.

 

Well, enthusiasm on a budget.

In conclusion, The Adventures of Hercules is a fascinating example of low-budget fantasy filmmaking. It may not honour the Greek myths in any traditional sense, but it honours a different tradition: that of the campy, colourful, and completely bonkers adventure film. For those willing to suspend disbelief and embrace its glorious absurdity, it offers a unique and strangely lovable viewing experience, part sword-and-sandal, part space opera, all glorious nonsense.

Herbie the Love Bug (1968-1980) – Review

Men’s love affair with cars dates back to Karl Benz’s three-wheeled motor car in 1886, and it’s only gotten worse over time. This unabashed love affair has been highlighted quite often in the world of cinema, creating a genre unto itself. Yet if one were to be perfectly honest, we’d have to admit that this love goes only in one direction, but what if it didn’t?

 

The Love Bug (1968)

The basic premise of Disney’s The Love Bug is that down-and-out race car driver Jim Douglas (Dean Jones) catches the eye of a magical little Volkswagen Beetle named Herbie, and along with his pal Tennessee Steinmetz (Buddy Hackett) and love interest Carole Bennett (Michelle Lee), they enter a variety of races, much to the chagrin of villainous Peter Thorndyke (David Tomlinson), He is the car dealership owner who sold Herbie for a song but now desperately wants the little car back. Madcap hijinks ensue. Watching this film, one can’t help but wonder “What it’s like to be upstaged by a car?” This isn’t normally a concern among actors, that is unless you’re David Hasselhoff, but Herbie the Love Bug is such an amazing character that he can’t help but capture your heart while stealing every scene he’s in, and considering this film has Disney legend Dean Jones and comedy giant Buddy Hackett one must say that Herbie had stiff competition, not to mention the beautiful Michelle Lee as a love interest that was more than arm candy for the hero.

Note: This is the Disney Era, where 90% of scenes that take place outside would either have used a terrible blue screen process shot or a matte painting. Lucky for this film, the matte paintings were by the great Peter Ellenshaw, and they are truly spectacular.

This is one of my favourite Disney movies from my childhood, and with the pairing of Dean Jones and Buddy Hackett in a film about a magical car, how could it not be great? Then add into the mix David Tomlinson as this film’s deliciously nasty villain, with Joe Flynn as his hilariously inept sidekick, and you’ve got comedy gold coming from every direction. If Herbie skipping across a lake doesn’t put a smile on your face, check your pulse; you’re probably dead.

 

Herbie Rides Again (1974)

This is a bit of an odd sequel as it ditches the human cast from the original with the script trying to explain their absence by stating that the Dean Jones character is over in Europe racing foreign cars, which makes no sense as there is no reason why he wouldn’t take the unbeatable Love Bug overseas to race, this a serious case of lazy writing. In this outing, we find Herbie living with a sweet old lady, “Grandma” Steinmetz (Helen Hayes), who lives in an old, abandoned firehouse, but unscrupulous real estate developer Alonzo P. Hawk (Keenan Wynn) needs that property so that they can begin construction on his newest office building, with Wynn reprising his role from The Absent-Minded Professor. Steinmetz refuses to sell, and so Hawk sends his naïve nephew Willoughby Whitfield (Ken Berry), who is just out of law school, to hopefully talk the old girl into selling. All this does is result in him meeting and falling in love with Steinmetz’s neighbour Nicole (Stefanie Powers) and taking sides against his uncle, basically, this is the plot from about a dozen Disney films that came out in the 60s and 70s.

To say this outing doesn’t make a lot of sense is being generous. We constantly see Hawk and his flunkies breaking the law, from grand theft auto to burglary, but for some reason, our heroes never think to phone the police, and one of our protagonists is a bloody lawyer. Then there is the whimsy being raised by a factor of ten as not only do we have Herbie the magical car but now there is a sentient jukebox and streetcar, not to mention a finale consisting of an army of sentient Volkswagens, and that’s not even the silliest thing we see on screen because at one point Hawk’s lawyers chase Herbie, on foot, up the cabling of the Golden Gate Bridge, and sure, this is a fantasy film but even a fantasy film has to have some kind of intrinsic logic or risk losing the audience.  Overall, Herbie Rides Again is a big step back in quality from the original film; we don’t even get that much in the way of cool car stunts to help us overlook the plot holes, and only Helen Hayes, Keenan Wynn and Stephanie Powers, who is this film’s requisite love interest, make the film at all bearable.

 

Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo (1977)

In this sequel, Dean Jones returns, with nary a mention of the events of the previous film, with a plot line that basically comes down to “The Love Bug is Lovesick” while also being surrounded by a ridiculous subplot about a stolen diamond, which is unknowingly hidden inside Herbie’s gas tank, which results in a lot of attempted comedy from bumbling thieves and keystone cops. I’d say it was nice to see Herbie back at the races, having spent the last film fighting an unscrupulous real estate developer, but the racing on display here is fairly boring and nowhere near as inventive as what was seen in the original 1969 The Love Bug.

We not only get Herbie in love with another car, which comes across as goofy as it sounds, but also a faltering romance between Dean Jones and Julie Sommars, a rival driver hellbent on proving women are just as good as men behind the wheel, but as the chemistry between Jones and Sommars is practically non-existent any time spent with them together does nothing to bolster the proceedings. Then there is the “Don Knotts Factor” with Knotts stepping into the position previously held by the hilarious Buddy Hackett, and he is basically the fifth wheel of comedy and we are all left wondering “Why is he even in the car, no one else has their mechanic as a co-pilot?” all the while waiting for him to provide and sort of comedy that, sadly, never arrives. The original film is one of my favourite live-action Disney comedies. Still, as a franchise, Herbie is the victim of the Law of Diminishing Returns as this film fails to deliver much in the way of laughs or even cool racing moments.

 

Herbie Goes Bananas (1980)

Once again Dean Jones is MIA in a Herbie sequel, with his character now having abandoned Herbie, again, and left the little car to his nephew Pete Stancheck (Stephan W. Burns) and his pal Davy “D.J.” Johns (Charles Martin Smith), who want to race the little car in the Brazil Grand Prêmio. To put it bluntly, this is not a good movie; in fact, it’s a pretty terrible one, and whatever magic generated by the original The Love Bug is long gone. We must now suffer through some of the strangest comedic shenanigans in a story that is full of more nonsensical madness than it is an actual plot.

Aside from the two bumbling Americans trying to get to the race, we also have Herbie teaming up with a young Mexican pickpocket named Pepe (Joaquin Garay III), a psychotic cruise ship captain (Harvey Corman), a man-hungry woman (Cloris Leachman) with her sites set on the Captain, and a trio of villains trying to plunder a lost Inca city. It’s like the writers had three different scripts and just mashed them together and called it a movie. The film does have some nice Herbie stunt driving, certainly, more than what we got in Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo, and seeing the Love Bug acting as a matador in a bullring was at least an interesting idea, sadly, at a meagre 97-minutes the film still seems long and when the end credits finally roll we are left wondering “Wait a minute, the movie can’t be over, we haven’t even got to the big race yet!”

Overall, by this entry, things have really fallen apart and what magic existed back in the late 60s has come here to the 80s to die, and the only real entertainment I got out of this film was watching John Vernon, Richard Jaeckel and Alex Rocco as the three villains because even in a crap film these guys are great to watch.  Watching this last entry in the original Herbie the Love Bug series one can’t help but wax nostalgic at a lovable little car that can skip across a lake and steal your heart, and maybe try and forget how far it fell.

But this was far from the end of everyone’s favourite Volkswagen Beetle, in 1982 Dean Jones reprises his role as Jim Douglas for a television series, that only lasted five episodes, and then in 1997 horror icon Bruce Campbell took the wheel in a Wonderful World of Disney made-for-television remake of the original, sadly, as of today, Herbie last big appearance was in the 2005 Lindsay Lohan comedy Herbie Fully Loaded, a film that is considered by most to be only slightly better than Herbie Goes Bananas, which is not a very high bar to clear.

Hercules the Avenger (1965) – Review

Welcome back to the land of loincloths, muscle oil, and poorly synced dubbing. Today, I bring you Hercules the Avenger, a sword-and-sandal B-movie in all its bravado and bare-chested, bronze-age glory. This is for those who have ever wanted to see Hercules wrestle an evil doppelganger, get lost in the underworld, and suffer some serious angst.

Reg Park reprises his role as the brawniest demigod in Italy, Hercules. While he certainly looks like he could lift Mount Olympus, he spends much of the film looking confused, which, to be fair, is kind of his default setting In fact, this movie is a clever (read: cost-saving) Frankenstein’s monster of recycled footage from earlier Park adventures, most notably Hercules in the Haunted World and Hercules and the Captive Women.

“I’m tired, just play some of my greatest hits.”

This entry starts with Queen Leda of Syracuse (Gia Sandri) having a royal headache. Her husband just died—tragic—and before the funeral figs have even been cleared, every prince in a 300-mile radius is suddenly pounding on her palace gates with marriage proposals. Not out of love, mind you, this isn’t a Disney movie, it’s all about land grabs and power plays. Basically, they’re suitors in the streets, warlords in the sheets. It’s giving Penelope-lite, with a strong “Odysseus is definitely not coming back” energy. But hey, if you’re going to swipe plot points for your Hercules flick, might as well borrow from the original Mediterranean soap opera…The Odyssey.

“Are any of you asshats good at stringing a bow?”

Meanwhile, at the home of Hercules (Reg Park), we find our muscle-bound hero kicking back with his wife, Deianira (Adriana Ambesi), getting a nice massage while bemoaning his immortality. Clearly, no one understands how tough it is to be a demigod. Sadly, existential crises have to be put on hold when Hercules’ teenage son Xantos (Luigi Barbini) declares wants to become a man, which in ancient Greece means you have to go out and kill a lion. This is when disaster strikes. On his first lion-hunting jaunt, Xantos is grievously injured, and his soul is snatched into Hades by a spiteful Earth goddess, Gaea. Naturally, Hercules must descend into the underworld to save him. It’s a dad thing to do.

“You must venture into the land of Mario Bava.”

In the meantime, tired of the endless royal Tinder swipe-lefts and following some cryptic, incense-fuelled advice from the local Oracle (who probably moonlights as a therapist), Queen Leda decides to track down Hercules. Because when diplomacy fails, send in the biceps. However, with the big guy (a.k.a. Hercules) off on an underworld vacation, Queen Leda has to settle for Plan B: Anteus (Giovanni Cianfriglia), the second strongest man in the world, which is kind of like bragging about having the second-best gladiator on Yelp. Anteus is also the son of Gaea, the local troublemaker goddess who’s been gleefully throwing wrenches into Hercules’ life like it’s her divine hobby. Normally, this is Hera’s job, but I guess she was busy appearing in a better Hercules movie.

Mythology Note: Gaea was considered the ancestral mother of all life. She is the wife of Uranus as well as the mother of the Titans, the Cyclopes, and the Giants. More than that, she had no beef with Hercules and often sided with his father, Zeus, in his power struggles.

Queen Leda does her best to roll with the punches—royalty’s tough like that—and teams up with Anteus, putting out the royal press release that he’s totally Hercules, you guys, trust us. It’s a bold move, especially since anyone with half a brain and two working eyes can tell this guy is about as Herculean as a soggy pita. Unfortunately for her, Anteus proves he’s less “heroic demigod” and more “raging jerk with delusions of grandeur.” To keep his fake identity under wraps, he knocked off the Queen’s handmaidens like he was starring in a very bloody HR violation. Then he shifts gears into full tyrant mode, slapping ridiculous taxes on the kingdom like he’s trying to finance a solid gold protein shaker.

“Behave, or I’ll tell my mother on you.”

Naturally, this kind of nonsense can’t go unchecked. And just when things are looking bleak, the real Hercules returns from his underworld sabbatical, sees what’s been going on, and says, in so many words, “Oh nope, not today.” It’s time for the original, 100% certified, god-approved Hercules to lay the smackdown on this budget knockoff. Get ready for a brawl: Herc vs. Herc-ish! The ending feels like it was made up on the spot. Hercules tosses around some boulders – one of his favourite pastimes – which causes a volcanic eruption and a panicked populace. He then tracks down the villainous imposter, stomps the bastard, who ran underground to get protection from his mommy, but after a brief wrestling match, the mighty Hercules prevails.

So ends the tale of a bargain basement Hercules.

Stray Observations:

• Queen Leda is given the standard prophecy you’d get from an Oracle, which means it will be immediately misinterpreted and lead to much misfortune.
• Hercules goes full existential; he spends a good chunk of the movie brooding about death, the soul, and fate. Yes, that Hercules, the guy who usually wrestles lions, is now pondering the afterlife like he’s in a Bergman film.
• It’s never explained why Xantos goes on his first lion hunt with some family friend and not his dad, you know, the demigod.
• The villains have that “Community Theatre of Evil” energy. With over-the-top eyebrow-raising, sinister chuckles, and dramatic hand gestures, the bad guys seem to be auditioning for a pantomime production of Oedipus: The Musical.
• Time has no meaning. Scenes transition with little logic. Characters teleport. Plot threads vanish. Honestly, it feels more like a dream you had after eating too much feta than a coherent story.

A dream where you are watching a better movie.

What saves Hercules the Avenger from total cinematic oblivion is the pure charm of its genre. Painted backdrops, foam boulders, rubber monsters, and operatic shouting fill the screen with glorious cheese. Park’s physique is genuinely impressive, and when the fighting finally kicks off (with that unmistakable Italian fight choreography, part ballet, part bar brawl), there’s a kind of dopey joy to it all. He grunts, glowers, and throws foam boulders like a champ. He’s not exactly delivering Shakespeare, but his physical presence is undeniably Herculean. Director Maurizio Lucidi keeps things moving briskly enough, and the melodramatic music makes sure you feel every moment, even if you’re not entirely sure what’s going on. Sadly, we spend a little too much time with discount Hercules, and all the borrowed footage in the world can’t quite save this film.

Mythology Note: Antaeus was a giant, the son of Poseidon and Gaia. He was known for his incredible strength, particularly in wrestling, which was renewed each time he touched the earth. He was defeated by Hercules, but he never had a personal grudge against him.

In conclusion, Maurizio Lucidi’s Hercules the Avenger is half flashback, half fever dream, but 100% vintage Italian fantasy absurdity.   It’s not a good movie by traditional standards, and is made up of approximately 60–70% recycled footage, but if you’re in the mood for campy heroics and brawny nonsense, it’s a dumb delight. Bring wine, friends, and your best “By the gods!” impression.

Eve of Destruction (1991) – Review

Ah, the early ‘90s, a golden era of action schlock, where filmmakers thought slapping some robotics onto a generic thriller plot would make it cutting-edge. Eve of Destruction is one of those movies that thinks it’s being cool and futuristic but ends up feeling like the cinematic equivalent of a malfunctioning fax machine: loud, outdated, and utterly frustrating.

Let’s start with the plot: The movie opens with genius scientist Dr. Eve Simmons (Renée Soutendijk) and her latest creation, EVE VIII (also played by Soutendijk), an advanced military android designed for reconnaissance and combat. She also built the android to look exactly like her because, apparently, self-love is real, even in the scientific community. And this isn’t just any robot—this one is equipped with her own memories and emotions, and this was to enhance its adaptability in the field. However, unbeknownst to her colleagues, the android also inherited her sexual fantasies, past trauma, subconscious fears and all sorts of emotional baggage, creating a potential for unpredictable behaviour. 

This is why we need oversight on military spending.

During a routine field test in a simulated urban environment, a group of armed bank robbers stumbles upon EVE VIII, mistaking her for an unarmed civilian, and when they attack, the android’s defensive programming activates. It ruthlessly eliminates the threat, but due to either stress or being shot, it malfunctions and breaks free from operational control and goes on a violent rampage, because that’s what all advanced AI does in early ’90s action movies. Proving once again that the government should not be trusted with expensive murder machines. Now, instead of advancing science, Eve is stomping around, stealing cars, shooting people, and casually carrying a nuclear bomb inside her. Oops. To solve this problem, they have to bring in the Best of the Best. 

Were Schwarzenegger or Stallone not available?

Enter Gregory Hines as Colonel Jim McQuade (yes, that Gregory Hines), an elite military specialist tasked with stopping this rogue robot. This man is known for his tap dancing, and trust me, that skill would have been way more useful here than his actual performance. And what exactly are his qualifications for this mission? Unclear. But hey, he looks cool holding a gun. McQuade teams up with Dr. Simmons (the human one), who tries to explain that EVE VIII isn’t just a killer robot; she’s also a killer robot with mommy issues because she inherited Simmons’ personal baggage along with her advanced weaponry. And I’m sure that will pay off in a dramatic and meaningful way. Or, most likely, the screenwriter will forget in favour of a lot of gunfire. 

The robot does have those crazy eyes, so that’s something.

EVE VIII, now fully embracing her inner terminator, embarks on a cross-country murder spree, but with a twist: she occasionally has emotional breakdowns because of the human memories inside her. One minute, she’s mowing down cops in cold blood; the next, she’s having a deep introspective moment in a department store. Along the way, between moments of emotional reflection, Eve steals a car and adds moving violations to her list of crimes, blows up random buildings, and terrorizes innocent bystanders, all while strutting around in a bright red power suit and heels. Even on a murder spree, fashion matters. This is not to say she doesn’t have time to catch up on some of her creator’s past traumas, such as visiting her dear old abusive father (Kevin McCarthy) for some homespun revenge.

“Weren’t you the star of Invasion of the Body Snatchers?”

After a trail of destruction that would make Grand Theft Auto jealous, McQuade and Simmons finally corner EVE VIII, but there’s a big problem. Remember that nuclear bomb inside her? Yeah, it’s armed and ready to go off. The only solution? More gunfire and explosions! Then, after 90 minutes of build-up, the film simply… stops. You expect a dramatic climax, but instead, it’s like the movie itself lost interest. After all the explosions, chases, and nonsense, the movie simply ends. There’s no emotional weight, no real resolution…just, “Well, that happened.” Gregory Hines probably went straight to his agent and fired them after this project. Did the government learn anything? Nope. Did Simmons realize that maybe making a killer android with emotional baggage was a bad idea? Also no. But hey, at least Gregory Hines survived to never make another sci-fi movie again.

 

“I think it’s time to dust off my tap shoes.”

Stray Observations:

• EVE VIII was designed to be a battlefield nuke, but why was she packing a live nuke during a field test? Did the military think that “If we aren’t endangering millions of lives, it’s not a proper test.”
• The military spends billions on this super-advanced android… and then they just lose track of her. Maybe they should have invested in a better GPS tracker instead of a built-in nuclear warhead.
• Another bit of EVE VIII’s programming is something called “Battlefield Mode” – her highest state of readiness – and while in this mode, she will not respond to orders from her superiors. How is that a good idea? Was she designed to go rogue?
• This movie is about a military science experiment going wrong and features Kevin McCarthy, who played a scientist behind a failed military experiment in Joe Dante’s Piranha.
• Our two main characters travel as passengers aboard an SR-71 Blackbird reconnaissance jet, but that plane is equipped with only two seats: the pilot and the navigator. Is the navigator riding on the outside of the plane today?
• As mentioned, EVE VIII isn’t just a killer machine; she has memories from her creator, meaning she occasionally stops to have emotional breakdowns. Imagine The Terminator, but with therapy flashbacks.

“Now, Timmy, let me tell you about the rabbits…”

Written and directed by Duncan Gibbins, Eve of Destruction plays out like he was desperately trying to rewrite The Terminator, but with none of the charm, tension, or budget. Eve, the robot, has a nuclear bomb inside her because, sure, why not? It’s not enough to have a deadly android; she has to be a walking apocalypse. Her rampage consists mostly of standing around looking blank while occasionally shooting people in the most awkward, unconvincing way possible, and Gregory Hines spends most of the movie looking either confused or deeply regretting signing onto this project. 

 

I think this expression pretty much sums up his feelings.

Renée Soutendijk is given the impossible task of making two lifeless performances interesting, and she fails spectacularly at both. For the big “climax,” the robot kidnaps the real Eve’s son – him being the most important thing in Eve’s life – but since EVE VIII is about as expressive as a toaster, the whole sequence has the emotional weight of an answering machine message. Imagine Siri trying to threaten you, yeah, it’s like that. EVE VIII just comes across as a slightly annoyed office worker instead of a terrifying killing machine.

Though she’d be a very well-armed office worker.

In conclusion, Eve of Destruction is a 99-cent store version of The Terminator, with none of the heart, excitement, or competence that film had to offer. It’s the kind of movie that makes you check the runtime every 10 minutes, praying for the sweet relief of the credits. This can make for a fun “So Bad It’s Good” movie night, but watch at your own risk, preferably with heavy doses of alcohol and low expectations.