Hercules in New York (1970) – Review

In the annals of cinematic history, some films become classics because of their brilliance. Others earn their place because of their sheer audacity. And then there’s Hercules in New York, a movie so spectacularly misguided, so blissfully unaware of its own absurdity, that it manages to transcend its incompetence and become something strangely unforgettable.

Let’s set the scene: It’s 1970. A young, heavily-accented Austrian bodybuilder named Arnold Schwarzenegger (credited as Arnold Strong for reasons) makes his cinematic debut in a low-budget oddity called Hercules in New York. The result is a film so bizarre, so hilariously earnest, and so utterly tone-deaf to Greek mythology – or filmmaking in general – that it achieves a kind of accidental greatness. Not because it’s good. Oh no. Because it’s so bad, it laps the competition and creates a new genre: unintentionally mythic comedy.

“Dad, why can’t anyone pronounce my name correctly?”

The plot of this epic finds Hercules (Arnold Schwarzenegger) bored on Mount Olympus. He wants excitement. He wants action. He wants… New York City. So, he berates his father, Zeus (Ernest Graves), about his life, stating that if Mars can go, why can’t he? Zeus repeatedly says no, and Hercules throws a god-sized tantrum. Eventually, tired of the whining, Zeus shoots him down to Earth on a literal lightning bolt—because teleporters are for mortals—and terrifies some poor lady on a commercial airliner. Honestly, who wouldn’t be disturbed by a hulking man in a toga shouting about Olympus mid-flight?

Nightmare at 20,000 Feet.

Hercules crash-lands into the ocean, but before he can drown, Zeus organizes a ship to pick up his wayward son.  Thanks dad! Hercules eventually arrives in New York City, where the locals barely bat an eye, because it’s New York and everyone just assumes he’s another bodybuilder with a speech impediment. He quickly befriends a scrawny pretzel vendor named Pretzie (Arnold Strang), because pretzels are his personality, and the two become an odd couple for the ages: the demigod and the snack vendor. While impressing a bunch of athletes practising for the decathlon, Hercules catches the eye of a college student named Helen Camden (Deborah Loomis), the daughter of a university professor (James Karen). She’s charmed by his blunt honesty and Herculean physique, despite (or maybe because of) his complete lack of social awareness.

Beauty and the Beast

Pretzie attempts to help Hercules adjust to city life while also profiting from the demigod’s incredible strength. Naturally, this leads to Hercules becoming a professional wrestler overnight, because that’s the only job that requires no resume, just deltoids. Soon, the demigod attracts public attention by winning staged wrestling matches and strongman competitions, but his success draws the eye of a sports promoter and the mafia, who both see dollar signs in his biceps. Pretzie is forced to sign over Hercules to these villains, unbeknownst to our hero.

“This is an offer you can’t refuse.”

Back on Olympus, Zeus is doom-scrolling through the godly livestream and absolutely loses it. That his son is besmirching the nobility of the gods by hobnobbing with mortals in such a fashion. Incensed, he sends Mercury (Dan Hamilton) to bring Hercules home. Mercury fails—partly because New York is confusing, and partly because Hercules is built like a Greek tank. So, Zeus tells Nemesis (Taina Elg) to banish Herc to the Underworld. Classic godly overreaction. Enter Juno (Tanny McDonald), who’s always been a bit of a pot-stirrer. She persuades Nemesis to poison Hercules instead, robbing him of his godhood, and he casually drops the news to Pluto (Michael Lipton), who immediately places a massive bet against Hercules in a strongman competition run by gangsters. Apparently, the Greek pantheon runs like a corrupt Vegas casino.

“The House always wins.”

Hercules loses a weightlifting competition because, well, poison, and now mob goons are after him. Pretzie and company try to help, but Herc charges in, despite being downgraded to demi-bro status. Just when things are about to go full Scorsese, Zeus, watching from Olympus with all the urgency of a dad half-watching a Little League game, finally realizes, “Oh snap, my son might actually die,” and flips the divine switch back on just in time. Because hey, divine nepotism. Supercharged again, Hercules beats the mobsters with the righteous fury of a protein-fueled freight train. He realizes Earth is exhausting, remembers he’s technically grounded, and returns to Olympus, giving Pretzie a heartfelt farewell over the radio, because real men don’t cry in person.

“I wonder if he’ll call me when he makes it big in Hollywood.”

Back in Olympus, Juno and Hercules ask Zeus if he’s mad. Zeus, now on his third goblet of whatever gods drink, goes “Nah,” and tells them to scram. And the second they do, this immortal hypocrite slaps on his own toga, belly-laughs, and rockets to Earth like an ancient frat bro on spring break, frightening more airline passengers in the process. Roll credits. Drop dumbbells. Offer sacrifices to whatever writer came up with this plot.

Is this comedy?

It’s safe to say that not much of that has anything to do with Greek mythology. It borrows little more than some names, muscles, and vague ideas. In fact, this film constantly mixes up the Roman and Greek names of the gods. Below are the major ways in which the film diverges—often hilariously—from the actual myths of Heracles (Hercules is his Roman name).

1. Hercules Was Not Bored on Mount Olympus

• In Mythology, Heracles wasn’t a full god until after his death. He was born mortal, son of Zeus and a mortal woman, Alcmene, and only ascended to Olympus after completing his famous labours and dying a painful death. He didn’t hang out with the gods in his youth, and certainly didn’t get sent to Earth for back-talking Zeus like a bratty teenager.

2. No Labours, No Monsters, No Myth

• In the myth, Heracles famously completes Twelve Labours, including slaying the Nemean Lion, capturing the Ceryneian Hind, and cleaning the Augean stables. In the movie, the closest thing to a monster is a man in a bear costume in Central Park. There are no labours, no mythical beasts, and no heroic journeys, unless you count trying to survive mafia henchmen in a deli.

3. Character Depth vs. Comedic Cardboard

• In the myth, Heracles is a complex character; deeply flawed, tortured by guilt, prone to rage, and capable of both great kindness and great violence. In the movie, Hercules is basically a muscle-bound blank slate. He speaks in broken English (or dubbed monotone, depending on the version), shows little emotion, and mostly reacts to things as if he’s confused by the concept of Earth in general.

In short, Hercules in New York takes the mythological Heracles and strips away all the pathos, grandeur, and gravitas. The film doesn’t reinterpret mythology so much as ignore it, swapping epic trials for tourist traps and divine wrath for wrestling matches. If Heracles was about strength through suffering, this film is about trying to order a sandwich with biceps, and maybe get in a chariot chase or two.

  Don’t ask why he’s being chased by a Tarzan knock-off.

Stray Observations:

• An alternate title for this film was Hercules Goes Bananas, which is probably a more apt title. In fact, if Hercules caught a ride with Herbie the Love Bug, it could have only improved the film’s tone.
• Hercules beats up sailors and dockworkers for no reason. He lifts crates, throws dockworkers into the water, and shouts vaguely mythological one-liners. It’s like Popeye, but dumber.
• The film’s score is by composer John Balamos, and I assume he was told by the director, “Give me the theme to Zorba the Greek, on repeat.”
• No one seems fazed by an ancient Greek god wandering around Manhattan. People are mildly confused by his sandals and oiled muscles, but generally chill. New Yorkers have seen weirder.
• Venus convinces Mercury to send Atlas and Samson to help Hercules, despite one of them should have been busy holding up the heavens, while the other is a Biblical figure and not from Greek mythology.
• Olympus looks like a community college theatre set. The gods lounge around in togas and plastic laurel wreaths in a garden park that feels like it was rented for a high school Shakespeare production.

Thrill at the sights of Olympic Garden Parties.

So yeah, this film is the epitome of a “fish out of water” story, but instead of clever satire or character development, it relies almost entirely on confusion, yelling, and poorly choreographed brawls. The tone swings wildly between slapstick comedy and mythological drama, though it never really lands in either genre. The dialogue feels as if it were written by someone who vaguely remembers what humans sound like, filtered through a haze of Herculean puns and 1970s slang. Seeing the Greek demigod wandering around modern New York should have resulted in some good comedy, alas, that was not to be.

“Can we watch this Hercules movie instead?”

And yes, this is Arnold Schwarzenegger’s first film, and yes, his thick Austrian accent was so incomprehensible that in the original release, his entire performance was dubbed over by someone who sounded like a generic radio announcer. Later releases kept his original voice, and thank the gods for that, because hearing Arnold say “You are a hit with ze vimmens!” in full baritone deadpan is a cinematic rite of passage. That said, physically, he is Hercules. Chiselled, muscled, and oiled up for every scene, even when he’s just walking down the street or riding a horse in Central Park. But dramatically? He has all the emotional range of a marble statue, and his line deliveries sound like he’s reading IKEA instructions phonetically.

Note: Arnold Schwarzenegger took the role at the urging of his friend Reg Park, a fellow bodybuilder, who had previously played Hercules in Hercules and the Captive Women (1961), Hercules in the Haunted World (1961), and Hercules the Avenger (1965).

What makes Hercules in New York oddly charming is not any moment of cinematic skill, but the sheer commitment to its nonsense. The bear fight in Central Park, for example, is one of the most infamous scenes, and not because it’s thrilling, but because the bear is so obviously a man in a costume that the fight resembles a playground scuffle at a Halloween party. Similarly, Pretzie’s neurotic energy provides a strange but welcome counterpoint to Hercules’ vacant stoicism, and that scene of Hercules fighting a bear is sure to be a highlight for bad movie lovers.

Hercules has a bad cinematic history with bears.

Directed by Arthur Allan Seidelman – in his first job helming a film – Hercules in New York is not a good movie by any traditional measure. It is poorly written, awkwardly acted, and technically shoddy. But in its own way, it’s a perfect storm of camp, kitsch, and accidental comedy. It invites laughter, confusion, and amazement in equal measure. If Olympus truly does look down on Earth, the gods are probably still laughing at this one, or looking to get a good lawyer and sue the filmmakers for defamation.

“Get me my agent on the phone!”

In conclusion, Hercules in New York is a glorious disasterpiece of early Arnold Schwarzenegger cinema—a film so strange it loops back around to being entertaining. It’s a mess, but it’s a magnificent mess, and for fans of unintentional comedy or Arnold’s strange early career, it’s 100% worth watching just to witness a future superstar awkwardly flexing his way through cinema history.