Okay, here's the deal. In the world of movies, there have always been certain things you could just count on to be true. Spencer Tracy would give one whale of a performance, no matter what the movie was. In a chase scene, someone will always drive a car through a fruit stand or a store window. In every Jackie Chan movie, there will be one stunt that will make you say, "He lived through that?!" Whoever does The Deed in a slasher film will be The Dead before the end of the picture. General rules to live by.

Another rule of thumb used to be, "If it's a Disney animated film, it will be perfect." Unfortunately in the '70s, after Walt's death, things went a bit south in the Disney animation department. They lost their way and started cranking out such midlin flipbooks as The Great Mouse Detective and Oliver and Company.

Then came the Renaissance. It started with a ditty known as The Little Mermaid. After a long dry spell, the magic was back. Once again, we got the art, the colors, the music, all the things that made the world fall for Dumbo, Bambi, and Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. They followed Mermaid with Beauty and the Beast, a sneaky little something that managed to get itself nominated for Best Picture of the Year come Oscar®-time, a feat for an animated film that had never occurred before and will probably never happen again, if the Academy has its way. Then, to conquer the feelings out there that Mermaid and B&B were "girls' films," they made Aladdin. This thing not only racked up a cave full of money, it got Robin Williams a special Academy recognition for voice work.

Then came The Lion King, the top of the form on every count. Brilliant artwork, great music, fantastic casting, every "i" dotted, every "t" crossed.

Talk about king of the jungle. Disney was the friggin' emperor.

Then we got a major belch in the middle of the opera. Pocahontas didn't catch on at all. Dull music (with Mel Gibson singing!), dull story, dull characters, all around duller than a pair of kindergarten scissors. And to make matters worse, next they turned a dark and tragic tale into an over-the-hill Rockette kick with The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It didn't reek like Poke-a-heart-out, but it just didn't grab you in the goosetail. There was something missing.

Know what it was?

The Magic. Somewhere along the line, maybe it was with the departure of the ever-vigilant Jeff Katzenberg, maybe it was with the gut-purging focus on merchandising tie-ins, maybe guardian angel Walt was off giving tours in heaven. Whatever it was, somebody had misplaced the Magic again. The blend of humor, action, music, and heart that made you yearn to see a Disney movie time and again was gone.

And, this summer, we all held our breath for the pending release of Hercules. Hoping against hope that we weren't in for another find-the-card trick by some eighth-grade Kreskin.

Well, you can breathe easy, folks. Lost and Found called and said they found it. The Magic is back. Tell me, is there such a thing as a Re-Renaissance?

Disney's latest animated effort, Hercules, is a rip-roarin' return to all that is Walt. It's got style, it's got hipness, it's got an air about it that brings to mind everything wonderful about Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, and all Lion King. And it also has a special push that I bet nobody was counting on.

You know the story if you paid attention to your tenth grade lit teacher. Hercules was the son of Zeus and Hera, rulers of the gods high atop Mount Olympus. He was stolen and made mortal, and was raised to be just another mortal. When he learns of his true heritage, he desires to return to Mount Olympus, but to do so, he must perform certain labors to restore his godliness.

Now, let's throw it to Disney. This time, Hades, ruler of the Underworld, has Herc stolen in order to be killed, but his henchmen, Pain and Panic, can't finish the job. Herc grows up to be a goofy kid with superhuman strength. He has to seek out a "hero trainer," the legendary Phil, to help him get pumped up into Olympian worthiness. Along the way, Herc falls for a lovely maiden named Megera ("Call me Meg"). He becomes legendary for his various feats, so much so that he becomes the Michael Jordan of Greece, with his own line of sandals (Air-Hercs) and action figures, he's a credit card spokesman (Grecian Express), and he's on posters and billboards all over Thebes.

The voice casting of Tate Donovan as Hercules and Danny DeVito as Phil the satyr-trainer is on the money, and Susan Egan, who voices Meg, finally gives us a pretty girl with a checkered past. She sounds like some funky blend of Mae West and a tart Jessica Rabbit, and she's the perfect hip chick to snare a hero like Herc. Matt Frewer and Bobcat Goldthwaite are at their frenetic best as Pain and Panic. Keep an ear out for David Letterman's little buddy, Paul Shaffer, as Hermes, Messenger of the Gods.

The added push, though, that makes this whole thing click is, believe it or not, James Woods. Woods is probably the last guy you'd think of when you're fishing for a cartoon voice. Somebody says James Woods, and I'm thinking of a clown from hell strangling children, juggling shrunken heads, and smoking Pall Malls.

Give a piece of cake to Hercules casting director Ruth Lambert, or whoever had the smarts to go after Woods. To our surprise, Woods throws down the method and has himself a ball. His Hades is phenomenal. He plays the Lord of the Dead like a Tinseltown agent, making deals and oozing "cool daddy-o" lingo as he plots to squash Hercules. He's a swinging sort of evil Reaper, whose blue-flame hair ignites into blazing red when he loses his temper. Face it, folks, we haven't seen a bad guy this jive since Nicholson donned the Emmett Kelley look for Batman. The two performances are almost mirror images without being the same. Nicholson was a little more crazed. Here, Woods is slick as glass and just as smooth.

Besides Woods' work, the overall sense of humor here is a needed boon after the previous two dingleberries. Jabs at sports merchandising, hero worship, and, surprisingly, at Disney itself, are unexpected bits of pleasure. Hidden treat: look for the co-star of another recent Disney film in a cameo role. Not going any further, you're on your own. Alan Menken's music is poppin' with a gospel-vamped mix of R&B and ballads that finally works to the good of the film.

The best indicator I can give you is to look around you. With Pocahontas and Hunchback, Disney started their merchandising campaigns eons before the movie ever got to a theater. We were all so choked on Quasimodo puppets and John Smith dolls that when the movies got here, it was little more than an afterthought. Some call this good marketing on Disney's part: make the public beg for the movie. I think it meant something else entirely. I saw it, and I still do, as a way to sell as much of their merchandise as they possibly could, so that, when the movie came out and everybody was disappointed, the cash was already in the drawer. With Hercules, it's been more subtle over the past five weeks. To me, this says that Disney knows they have a high-quality product that can stand on its own. Just a theory, but it do make sense, don't it?

Definitely add the phrase "See Hercules " to your summer to-do list. There are a couple of sequences that could be a bit frightening, scenes of multi-headed monsters and a particularly bleak and haunting Underworld, that might creep out the young-uns a bit, so don't just dump 'em in there while you go across the hall to see a "grown-up movie." Sit there with them. I promise you, you'll have as good a time as they will.

Hey. In this movie you get to hear Charlton Heston say, "You go, girl." Now that's magic!