The Mighty Kong (1998) – Reviews

Once upon a time, someone had the wild idea: “What if King Kong… but for kids… and with songs?” Thus, 1998’s The Mighty Kong was born, a direct-to-video animated musical that dares to retell the classic 1933 monster story through toe-tapping tunes and awkward animation. And by “daring,” I mean it swings from the Empire State Building straight into a pit of questionable decisions.

The basic story remains intact: The film opens in the 1930s, where ambitious and slightly eccentric filmmaker C.B Denham (Dudley Moore) is cooking up his next big cinematic adventure. He’s convinced he’s found the perfect location for his mysterious new movie—an uncharted, fog-shrouded place called Skull Island. All he needs is a leading lady… and he conveniently stumbles upon Ann Darrow (Jodi Benson), a down-on-her-luck chorus girl with dreams as big as a Broadway marquee. She agrees to join his seafaring film crew aboard the ship Venture, unaware she’s about to star in a monster movie for real.

 

“You’ll be a big star or a big appetizer.”

The crew sets sail, and we’re treated to the first of several toe-tapping musical numbers. Yes, this version of King Kong throws in spontaneous Broadway-style songs that range from peppy to downright peculiar. We get a peppy cabin boy named Ricky (Jason Gray-Stanford) and a singing chimp named Chips who acts as even more comic relief, because what every monster movie needs is a wisecracking monkey in a vest. When the ship finally reaches Skull Island, it’s not exactly a tropical paradise. Think dark jungles, ancient ruins, and locals who are a bit too eager to stage an impromptu casting call…for Ann, the “golden-haired beauty” foretold in legend.

 

Enter our ethnically questionable natives.

As expected, Ann is kidnapped by the Skull Island natives and is offered up as a sacrifice to the island’s most famous resident, a 50-foot-tall gorilla with a soft spot for blondes. But instead of chomping on her like a jungle snack, Kong gently scoops her up and takes her on a vine-swinging tour of his prehistoric home. So, it’s up to Seaman Jack Driscoll (Randy Hamilton) to set forth into danger to rescue his possible love interest. But Skull Island isn’t all banana smoothies and lullabies. The jungle is crawling with dinosaurs, giant snakes, and other beasties who think Ann would make a nice appetizer. Kong fends them off in cartoonish battles that are more Scooby-Doo than savage, complete with dramatic roars and goofy sound effects. The classic battle between Kong and a Tyrannosaurus Rex is also reduced to a ten-second fight in this version.

 

Taken out by a bonk to the head.

Meanwhile, Denham and his clumsy cameraman (William Sage) race through the jungle, doing their best to avoid the big gorilla, but Kong isn’t the only danger as the island’s volcano decides to erupt. That said, a few well-tossed gas bombs bring the ape down, and a conscientious Denham convinces Captain Englehorn (Richard Newman) to save Kong before Skull Island is completely destroyed. And before you can say “Eighth Wonder of the World,” Kong stands in chains, looking sad and bewildered before a New York City Crowd. When flashing cameras and chaos break out, Kong goes full King Kong™, breaking free, grabbing Ann, and rampaging through the city in search of a tall perch to climb. 

 

Kong’s big break on Broadway.

Naturally, he ends up on the Empire State Building, clutching Ann in one hand and swatting at biplanes with the other in a kid-friendly version of the iconic scene. But one wouldn’t want to scar the little kiddies, so in this version, when the planes fail to bring Kong down, Denham comes up with a plan to capture Kong alive, which consists of two blimps with a cargo net strung between them. Kong is captured in the net, but his weight causes it to tear apart, and he falls to the streets far below. Carl then gives his iconic line about Beauty killing the Beast, but Chips discovers that Kong is alive.

 

“I’m not dead yet.”

Stray Observations:

• This version of Carl Denham produces live Broadway musicals to promote his “Animal Follies” films, which doesn’t make a lick of sense.
• Denham pitches to the crew that they are looking for a “Land that Time Forgot,” but clearly not the one penned by Edgar Rice Burroughs.
• As this is a kid-friendly version, not only does  Kong live, but there are no deaths at all. None of the sailors are killed trailing after Kong, no natives are stomped or eaten, and the biplane pilots have parachutes.
• It takes 42 minutes for Kong to appear in this 73-minute film, which gives Peter Jackson’s version a run for its money on wasted screen time.
• This remake has one direct reference to the 1976 version, where Kong takes Ann to a waterfall to wash off some mud and then blows her dry with his breath.

 

Insert “Blow Job” joke here.

Let’s get this out of the way: The Mighty Kong is not a hidden gem. It’s a curious, well-meaning but largely ineffective attempt to take the grim, iconic tragedy of King Kong and retrofit it into a G-rated, toe-tapping cartoon musical. It’s as if someone asked, “What if we took one of the most dramatic finales in film history… and added songs?” It features a 1930s Broadway vibe, animal sidekicks, and a musical score that ranges from forgettable to “please make it stop.” The songs—by the usually competent duo of the Sherman Brothers (yes, Mary Poppins Sherman Brothers!)—feel oddly recycled, and no amount of jazzy enthusiasm can save what are fairly contrived lyrics. They’re bouncy and upbeat, but they don’t do much to elevate the narrative or linger in the memory.

 

“Now with catchy tunes and cartoon jungle hijinks!”

As for this film’s animation? Think 90s TV commercial meets off-brand Disney. The characters move with the stiffness of cardboard cutouts, and poor Kong often looks like a knock-off plush toy rather than a towering force of nature. Ann Darrow, our starlet-turned-scream-queen, is now a plucky singer whose dream is to perform on Broadway, and Jack Driscoll is downgraded from rugged sailor to… sort of just there. And yes, Kong is still kidnapped and brought to New York, but instead of a tragic commentary on exploitation, we get a tacked-on happy ending that feels unnatural and cheap.

 

This idea was suggested by the character Jack Prescott in the 1976 remake.

Which leads to the film’s key problem. Tonally, it’s a strange beast. The original King Kong was a thrilling adventure tragedy, while this version turns that classic tale into a quirky jungle romp. Now, this might work for kids under 10, but it strips the tale of its emotional weight and will leave older viewers out in the cold. As mentioned, the film’s awkward clash between the classic tragic ending and the movie’s relentlessly chipper vibe will rub most fans of the original the wrong way, and it’s hard to feel the grandeur or heartbreak of Kong’s fall when everything else feels like a Saturday morning adventure. 

 

Everything is better with monkeys.

It’s not all a disaster. Dudley Moore, as Carl Denham, in his final performances, brings a hint of charm to the chaotic mess, while Jodi Benson, best known as the voice of Ariel in The Little Mermaid, voices Ann Darrow and delivers her songs with the usual warmth and sparkle. The voice cast is competent, but the material they’re working with rarely gives them a chance to shine. Kids under six might enjoy the bright colours and silly animal side characters, but anyone familiar with the original King Kong—or even The Lion King—will likely be left scratching their heads or dozing off mid-ballad. Worst of all, Kong barely counts as a character in this movie; not only does he have a middling amount of screen time, but what we do get is weak and uninspired.

 

Kong demands better writers!

In conclusion, The Mighty Kong takes a cinematic masterpiece and reduces it to a clunky, watered-down sing-along. It’s a curiosity, sure—but mostly for the wrong reasons. If you’re looking for a King Kong experience with heart, style, or emotion, this isn’t it. It’s not quite mighty, and certainly not monumental, but an odd little curiosity for animation completists or die-hard Kong fans.

The Adventures of Superpup (1958) – Review

Before Supergirl, before Smallville, before the endless reboots and multiverses, there was… Superpup. Yes, in 1958, someone genuinely thought the future of the Superman franchise was a pint-sized, big-headed dog in red tights.

Let’s be clear, this wasn’t a cartoon. This was a live-action television show, starring actors in oversized dog masks with frozen plastic grins and blinking mechanical eyes — a cross between taxidermy and a Chuck E. Cheese nightmare. The pilot was created as a way to recycle the Adventures of Superman sets and tap into the audience goodwill following George Reeves’ run, while also dodging some complicated rights issues. The solution? Swap humans for anthropomorphic dogs and pretend it makes perfect sense.

 

“Spoiler alert, it did not make sense.”

Our hero is Bark Bent (Billy Curtis), a mild-mannered reporter for the Daily Bugle (but not the one that employs Spider-Man) who transforms into the costumed wonder Superpup, a flying, super-strong hero with a knack for mild discomfort. His love interest, Pamela Poodle (Ruth Delfino), is the classic damsel in distress, while Montmorency Mouse (Sadie Delfino), his excitable sidekick, is the only one who knows Superpup’s secret identity. Together, they navigate a world full of talking animals and crime.

 

They also navigate nightmare fuel.

At the local jail, the villainous Professor Sheepdip (Harry Monty) escapes with help from his bumbling henchman Wolfingham (Sadie Delfino), and he evades the half-hearted pursuit of Sergeant Beagle (Frank Delfino), who’s armed only with a toy cannon. Sheepdip soon plots revenge by sneaking a liquid bomb inside a grandfather clock into the Bugle, setting the stage for more chaos. Bark and Montmorency scramble to stop the threat just as Wolfingham unwittingly reveals the plan.

 

Danger: Mad Sheepdog at Work.

Superpup bursts into action in a dramatic, wall-smashing entrance, hurling the ticking clock off a cliff to take down Sheepdip. But the villain’s not finished—he kidnaps Pamela and straps her to a rocket, only to be foiled once again by Superpup’s timely rescue. The episode closes with justice served, questionable property damage ignored, and Superpup soaring off into the sunset, leaving behind a trail of mayhem and unanswered questions. No one questions the property damage, the animal-based terrorism, or the fact that a wolf just lived in a clock.

 

“It’s time to clock out!”

It must be said that The Adventures of Superpup is one of those rare pieces of television history where everyone involved seems to have underestimated just how bad an idea it was — or overestimated how much kids love dogs in suits. Instead of cute or heroic, Superpup comes across as unsettling, like something that escaped from a Sid & Marty Krofft fever dream. The sets wobble. The dog masks don’t move. The dialogue is delivered in awkward barks of forced cheer. Every scene looks like it’s filmed at 2 a.m. after everyone gave up but kept rolling. If “uncanny valley” had a canine version, this show would be its mascot.

 

“Your Bark is worse than your bite!”

Unsurprisingly, the show was never picked up for a series. CBS and the producers likely recognized early on that the concept lacked mainstream appeal and that the production, while imaginative, came across as awkward and visually off-putting. The fixed-expression masks prevented natural facial movement, which made dialogue delivery and emotional nuance difficult, especially by the standards of even children’s television in the 1950s.

 

Question: Did they drop a lot of acid in the ’50s?

That said, why watch it? Because you simply have to see it to believe it. It’s the kind of show that feels like a parody but isn’t. It belongs in the pantheon of so-bad-it’s-stupefying television alongside things like My Mother the Car or Manimal. Superpup is part of that rare breed: television history so baffling, so misguided, so unbelievably weird that it becomes accidentally fascinating.

 

You will believe a dog can fly.

In conclusion, The Adventures of Superpup isn’t good. It’s not entertaining. But it is unforgettable. This show is the TV equivalent of someone trying to remake Citizen Kane using sock puppets and a kazoo. It’s a must-watch for anyone who loves pop culture oddities, forgotten pilots, or just wants to witness the strangest thing ever created in the name of Superman.

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.