Two things struck me while watching Disney's latest animated feature. The first was a little kid a couple of rows in front of me, who stood up and danced to the film score during the final twenty minutes. The couple behind me had a word for it: cute. I had a word for it too: brainwashing. The second thing was my initial thought as the film pulled out of the gate like a runaway amusement park ride: Please, Jesus, just let it be so loud that it drowns out the noises of the screaming children.
What would a Disney film be without the standard dysfunctional mother figure? As we all know from watching Disney films, mothers contribute so little to the life of a developing child that they're barely necessary. Hercules' mom is no different. After Hercules is turned mortal by Hades' (James Woods) minions, Pain (Bobcat Goldthwait) and Panic (Matt Frewer), he's adopted by an old couple. Hercules has a pleasant relationship with his father while the chunky matriarch washes dishes and sweeps the sidewalk. When Hercules realizes who his real father is, he and Zeus (Rip Torn) have meaningful father-son talks, while Zeus' wife Hera (Samantha Eggar) makes a token appearance at the end to launder Herc's jock strap.
The only way to explain this is that animation is one big penis-measuring contest for the people at Disney. Have you ever heard of any female executives at Disney? Of course not; there aren't any. Ninety percent of the animators at Disney? Men. With all that testosterone floating about, it's pretty damn hard to convince any of these guys to actually involve chicks in the plot.
The penis-measuring hypothesis is confirmed at the end of "Hercules" when Herc, having finally become a God, elects to return to Earth with Meg (Susan Egan) instead of staying on Mt. Olympus for eternity, essentially choosing a woman over immortality. If that isn't thinking with the old schlong, I don't know what is.
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