Pick the worst Hercules movie among the 19 the Italians made from 1957 to 1965. Hell, you can even include the Ursus, Samson, Goliath and Maciste adventures if you like. Whatever your choice, it’s better than 1969’s tiresome Hercules in New York, starring a 22-year-old Arnold Schwarzenegger, second-billed as Arnold Strong in his film debut. It’s a wonder he was asked back for another.

Not an adventure, but a family comedy with the production values of a porn, the unfunny film cast Arnie as the half-mortal Hercules, who seeks permission to leave Mount Olympus, but his dad, Zeus (soap actor Ernest Graves), won’t let him, yet throws a thunderbolt at him anyway, thus sending Herc to New York City, where he’s befriended by a waterfront pretzel salesman, Pretzi (comedian Arnold Stang, neither comic nor relief), and romanced by a professor’s daughter (Deborah Loomis, 1976’s Blood Bath).

In the Big Apple, Hercules tips over a taxi, wows collegians with his discus skills, does that bodybuilder thing where he flexes his boobies individually, throws a guy into a river, participates in a televised barbell contest, wrestles a guy in a bear suit 600-pound escaped grizzly bear and, finally, drives a chariot down through Central Park. Isn’t that just a fucking riot?

What little fun the flick offers is witnessing Schwarzenegger face his greatest foe: dialogue. He can’t properly pronounce Zeus or Athens, let alone his own character’s name, and rarely does a shot include him saying more than one line at a time. Still, some of those are unintentional gems as he:
• sees a forklift: “Fine chariot! But where are ze horses?”
• is told he better watch his mouth: “I can hear my talk, I cannot vatch it.”
• marvels at an automat: “This fine food for only a few small coins?”
• is asked whether his mother dropped him on his head as a baby: “Once I strangled two serpents in the cradle.” —Rod Lott

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In a fairer world, Will Forte would be a household name alongside fellow Saturday Night Live alum Adam Sandler. Of course, in that world, Sandler would have continued to produce Punch-Drunk Love-like films that pushed at his talents, rather than sink to the sub-Norbit depths of Jack and Jill.

But alas, the world is hardly fair, so while we drown in a morass of Sandler-related comedies so poor they make Eddie Murphy blush with shame, Forte is relegated to the sidelines. Never mind that MacGruber is funnier than anything Sandler has done — it’s the funniest movie from the SNL canon since The Blues Brothers.

A riff on the legendary mullet-and-brains TV series MacGyver, MacGruber surpasses its comedy-sketch beginnings by becoming not only an extension of the character, but a rousing and gleefully profane send-up of 1980s action films. To those who don’t know Mac, he’s the ultimate bad-ass: “former Navy SEAL, Army Ranger, Green Beret, served six tours in Desert Storm, four in Bosnia, three each in Angola, Somalia, Mozambique, Nicaragua and Sierra Leone.” Yet in the grand tradition of cinematic Homer Simpsons, MacGruber succeeds despite idiocy. And such glorious idiocy it is; watching him beg for a second chance by offering to fuck anything in the room is wondrously funny.

There are other highlights: Ryan Phillippe is a surprisingly strong straight man, Kristen Wiig is game for anything, and Val Kilmer reminds us why he needs better roles. But it’s Forte’s show: He never mugs, never winks; his commitment to being an absolute ass is heartening. MacGruber is a textbook example of the smart-stupid, the type of stupid only very smart people can create. Thank God that Sandler and Dennis Dugan never got their paws anywhere near this one. —Corey Redekop

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