Zootopia 2

The best part of this movie is the visual jokes and puns. Some of them are genuinely laugh-out-loud funny. And some of the verbal jokes hit the mark as well. But a lot of the rest of this film comes across as very boilerplate animated feature: not especially clever, not particularly innovative in terms of its visuals, and built too much around presenting bland homilies at the end of the story. You get the sense throughout the running time that the point of this exercise from the start was to preach to the audience, and to make the sermon more palatable by wrapping it up in a number of revved up action sequences. In that sense, it’s kind of like how you give a pill to an animal (appropriately enough): you stick the pill into some squishy treat and hope the creature will swallow it whole. To be sure, the film is not boring or without entertainment value; you can watch the movie and stay mostly engaged from start to finish. You might find yourself straying a bit here and there, and you might consider the plot to be low stakes and slightly nonsensical—but most of those watching it will be children anyway, and we all know how uncritical they can be. So it’s mostly harmless amusement, though hardly anything more than that, and certainly nothing particularly memorable. It’s not all happening at this zoo, but I do believe there’s just enough here to make do. 

Moana 2

Part of the problem is quickly apparent: this story feels rushed, like it was not given any chance to develop organically. Instead, the tale is presented more as a “plot accompli” based on presumed prior knowledge, clumsy explication, and prioritizing cultural instruction. Indeed, a lot of the early part of the movie is like the world’s most highly-produced sensitivity training workshop video. You get the feeling that, unlike with the first movie, where the cultural consultants were there to give input, here they were allowed to go nuts—and not to particularly entertaining effect. So the proceedings begin with something of a deficit. Does the film turn it around? Yes, to an extent, largely through the efforts of Auli’i Cravalho, who still brings great presence and charm as the title character. Among the supporting cast, Dwayne Johnson is still mostly entertaining as Maui, while the rest of Moana’s fellow sailors are a hit or miss bunch. The musical numbers fall within a range, from solid to middling; a few advance the story well enough, though none are really standout pieces. All in all, this is a decent outing, nothing to be ashamed of but not really anything spectacular. Apparently, this will be one in a chain of islands, so to speak, so any review of this flick will hardly be the last word; maybe we’ll have to experience the voyage in total before we really know where it goes. 

Mary Poppins

I dare you to watch this movie, after having seen the Simpsons episode that parodies it, and try to not laugh your ass off. It’s basically impossible. Having said that, the question is, how good is this film on its own merits? The answer is more complicated than you might expect from a movie that is so well known, if not an outright classic. Truth is, there’s a lot of weirdness in this flick: many of the scenes that blur live action and animation have an almost hallucinogenic quality to them (especially visually); the direction is kind of schizophrenic—in some parts the story plays it straight, in others it plays fast and loose with its narrative structure (literally, as when Dick Van Dyke's character breaks the fourth wall, the only character who does so); and the dance sequences either work well, or drag on too long. So where’s the appeal? Mostly in Julie Andrews’ terrific performance; when her Mary does something magical, you believe she’s really capable of it, and her vocal performances are peerless. It’s really her show, and her and some good touches of humor—intended, not secondary laughs—make this one still worth watching, if not exactly worth cherishing. A spoonful of perspective helps an earnest but flawed effort go down well enough.

Inside Out 2

This movie is kind of unfair. How can the viewer watch it with a critical eye when Riley is exactly the kind of girl whom the viewer wishes could be his own daughter? It says here the scale has a thumb on it. No matter—you watch the movie they show you, and in this case, as with its predecessor, you get a pretty good one. Anyone with an ounce of human spirit has to feel sympathy for a young person suffering the pangs of puberty—we’ve all been there—so we can all laugh, cry and cringe as our girl stumbles through one particularly fraught weekend. The Emotions are back and their usual selves, though now augmented by the addition of several newcomers—perhaps even one or two too many new characters, though the story is dominated by Anxiety, so the plot doesn’t really get too crowded. Again we have some very clever visual metaphors for the inside of the human mind, many of which are highlights of the film's mostly gentle humor,  plus at least one visual pun that is, in its place, laugh out loud funny. The only real flaw may be that the characters, who are personifications of Riley’s emotions, do not always stay true throughout to their essential selves (by the end Lewis Black's Anger is uncharacteristically happy and practically gushing). I guess it’s impossible to fully carry the metaphor all the way through, but that’s really just a quibble. You will be okay if you keep this one in the front of your mind; it just might help you build a better you—something a lot of us could work on.

Young Woman and the Sea

Let me spoil the drama for you: she makes it, eventually. That’s not really much of a spoiler, since Gertrude Ederle accomplished her famous swimming feat a hundred years ago; only the most historically ignorant will go in not knowing the outcome. So any suspense in this film must come from the journey to the moment of triumph. Really, though, there are no surprises here—it’s all very standard sports biopic stuff. There’s humble beginnings, family conflict, obstacles and doubts, allies and enemies, and ultimate success—all the beats you expect from this kind of movie. So why, then, does this seemingly run of the mill flick merit its positive purr? Two reasons: one, the extraordinary nature of Ederle‘s achievement (and its echoing legacy throughout the years and right up to this day in women’s sports); and two, the uplifting presence of daisy Ridley, who seems positioned to corner the market on the “heroic young woman” genre. She captures the essence of her character’s spirit, of the determination that helped her overcome long odds, cruel nature and social rigidity. It all makes for a great story. Dive in on this movie—your viewing experience will indeed go swimmingly.

Elemental

Never, perhaps, has there been a movie so contrived in its concept. And that grand devotion to concept gets heavily in the way for the audience, almost to the point where the viewer is willing to give up on the thing. I say almost, because if one makes a conscientious effort to push through that superficial conceptual barrier, as well as the sense of indoctrination and being taught a lesson, you can strip things down to the story basics, which are well done and resonate with the viewer. Once you start paying attention to the characters as fundamental people, you can find the universality of the feelings and conflicts they act out, and the ham-handed metaphors for immigrants and parent-child conflict fades into the background. It helps, too, that the visuals present a certain amount of technical wonder, even in an era of an exceedingly refined state of the art in animation; you start to give credit to these characters for being real and alive and tangible, even as they are simply a highly digitized form of puppets. Distilled to its, shall we say, basic elements, this is a movie that I wanted to hate, but ultimately had to admire for its artistry and heart.

That Darn Cat! (1965)

How can you make a comedy that’s a little too comedic? Here might be an example. That is, if you can describe clumsy slapstick as being actually “comedic.” When this movie plays it for laughs—really, when it desperately strains for laughs—it mostly falls flat on its face (a favored fate of many of the characters, it turns out). Even for a story that is clearly targeted for children, the humor here generally lands with a thud and can not be expected to entertain anyone. That isn’t surprising for a formulaic picture from the period of Disney’s decline. What is surprising is that, when the movie plays it relatively straight, the result is a film that is actually entertaining, engaging, charming, and even interesting. Given that the movie clearly runs at least a half an hour too long, the inescapable conclusion is that they should have excised the goofy slapstick, including the extraneous wacky neighbors, and just gone ahead with the core story, letting Haley Mills, Dean Jones, and a handful of clever Siamese kitties carry the thing through. I doubt I’d recommend this flick as anything other than a time capsule experience—the ‘60s really were a different world versus now—but maybe it stands as well as an example of what not to do when you’re making a lighthearted movie. Not necessarily litter box material, but hardly a dose of catnip, either.

The Reluctant Dragon

Back in the desperate days of the famous 1941 animators strike, Walt Disney put out this bowl of cinematic hash, in hopes of bringing in a bit of money to save the studio. I guess it did, since the studio stuck around (and is a going thing today), but the fact that Walt’s remaining crew could do no better than this shows how much impact the labor action had. Most of this movie consists of documentary footage of author Robert Benchley’s purported visit to the Disney studio to pitch Kenneth Grahame’s titular short story, in a series of hokum setups that run the viewer through the animation process. The individual production process scenes reveal numerous aspects of the cartoon assembly line, but show little about how the actions are done; mostly, the presentations give a superficial view of the workflow. What garnered more attention, for this viewer, was the revelation that Benchley was such a soft touch. Who knew? Maybe the most revealing item in this picture comes when Benchley finally meets up with Disney himself. Walt, who in today’s retrospect exists as man of middle age on the cusp of being senior citizen (Disney was 65 when he died), looks shockingly young here; he would have been 39 when the movie was filmed, but seems more youthful than that. It is a reminder of how often those who achieve greatness do so at a remarkably young age. As for the embedded cartoons, it is notable that while there is still some of the studio’s magic touch to be seen in some of the shorts, it is also notable that the cartoons show the beginnings of the deterioration of the studio’s animation quality that would become so glaring in later films. There is a Goofy short that shows some of the old style, but is also rather boring, too. The Baby Weems segment—a cartoon composed entirely of storyboard-style drawings—is clever enough, but is also purposely not high in artistry. Finally, the title piece, while somewhat amusing, is also a distinct step down towards more abstract (more cartoonish, you might say) artwork than the studio was producing even a year or two before. The final impression is one of a work that was jumbled together in haste, and that focus on alacrity over artistry hampered the creative process. As it is, this film survives as a snapshot of a moment in history when the most innovative studio in the animation business found itself in a state of flux, a disruption that had ripple affects that, in some ways, are still felt to this day. It’s one for the archive, for sure, a film that those with a nose for the turning points in history will want to examine and ponder, even if casual viewers can probably skip it in favor of more rewarding fare.

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

For what is supposed to be “the greatest animated film of all time,” it sure does have a lot of flaws. Many of the songs aren’t exactly toe tappers; indeed, for every “Heigh-Ho,” there are several insipid numbers with the title character singing about nonsense. And indeed, Snow herself is one of the weak spots; frankly, she’s kind of a dipshit. More problematic still are several of the dwarf sequences, which tend to run long in the service of generating a lot of slapstick but serve little to advance the story. The queen’s sequences, in contrast, are tight and move the plot along. And finally, a great deal of the story is told through onscreen exposition; we jump ahead via title cards where a simple explanatory scene would have done better. So why then does this movie merit such respect? It must be remembered that a great deal of what happens on screen here was original innovation; many of the techniques of animation and characterization may have had their debuts in earlier Disney shorts, but they came to full flower—and were viewed by the broadest audience in this, the first feature length animation. It is still a wonder to watch the artistry that went into this work—character representation and movement, rich background art, impressive visual effects—and appreciate the immense talent of those who made this creation possible. Some of this tale may seem to today’s audience to be hopelessly dated, but it is still a monumental achievement in motion picture history. One final interesting note, that also touches on the difference between today and yesteryear: unlike many of today’s oh-so-carefully ethnically balanced endeavors, in the service of (depending upon your perspective) diversity and equality or indentitarianism, this movie is squarely the product of a Eurocentric and decidedly uniform cultural viewpoint—and, from this viewer's vantage point, it’s much better for that singular frame of mind. The vision remains focused and true to itself, while not trying to serve any greater agenda. The success here strongly suggests that, instead of trying to shoehorn a DEI checklist into every production, maybe it would be better to just let particular works have their own focus, without trying to serve a societal master plan, without forcing everyone to toe a sociopolitical line. Just a thought. But this movie is now a relic from another time and place, and perhaps there really is no going back. At least we still have this work, through which we can occasionally visit that foreign land ... and witness some brilliant artistry in the process. Happily ever after indeed.

Turning Red

An under-the-radar effort, made so due to its direct-to-streaming debut caused by the pandemic, that actually has much more going for it than some other recent products of the Pixar studio. For one, the movie’s main character, Meilin, is adorable, in both of her manifestations. Another solid attribute: this flick leans heavily into the comedy, rather than trying to ladle on the sentiment or delve for deeper meanings. When the sentiment does come, it feels earned. And as befits the story’s comedic slant, the renderings of the characters, settings and action are stylized and cartoonish, rather than the usual showy and ostentatiously realistic visuals; here, the dialed back appearances serve the humor well. Also, the filmmakers made a keen decision to set this story in Toronto, where the various ethnic elements of the tale seem less like the product of relentless identitarianism and more the outgrowth of the actual facts on the ground in that most cosmopolitan of cities. Indeed, the story is presented so well that the viewer can ignore the fact that the whole thing is a rather ham-handed metaphor for a young girl reaching puberty (even given the numerous instances where that notion is made fairly explicit). I for one probably could have done without the boy band element, but given the movie’s girl focus, I suppose that’s on-point, too. Indeed, practically all of this work was done right, and the result is a surprisingly amusing and entertaining film. I say, give this bit of red a big green light.

Luca

First astonishing fact about this film: the main character’s parents aren’t dead. Second...well, there really isn’t anything else astonishing about this flick. It’s cute, reasonably entertaining—my attention did not wander at any point in its running time—visually impressive (though that hardly counts at this point, so refined is the state of the art) and at least a little bit heart-tugging. I doubt this one will ever enter into anyone’s pantheon—the somewhat similar Coco is substantially more memorable—but watching this work can hardly be considered a waste of time. And if you take it as an oblique homage to Italian cinema in general, then that adds a further dimension of pleasure to the experience. Like many a visit to the shore, this is enjoyable but ultimately ephemeral.

Soul

Depending upon who you are, and how you feel about your life, some of this story may hit a little too close to home. In a more general view, a lot of this movie may be difficult for viewers to get traction with, as a sizable part of the concept here involves characters who are abstractions, and abstraction is notoriously difficult for many people to relate to. Or perhaps that’s just this viewer trying to grasp at reasons why this film stayed somewhat at arm’s length from him, despite there being plenty of relatable emotional content herein. Maybe it’s due to the fact that I personally have never really appreciated jazz that this flick fails to completely crack my exterior. What also doesn’t help is the ending—it reeks of falsity; it seems like a decision was made to tack on a final note that was added on in order to make the ending “happier,” even though the honest ending would not have been all that sad, and is even hinted at in the earlier dialogue. I don’t know; there’s a lot of plus and minus here, all mixed up—but I’m conscious enough of my own personal failings here that I will give this work a pass, count it as a guarded MEOW, and leave it at that. Other than that, you’ll have to find this work's purpose for yourself.

Onward

From the first moments, I kinda hated this movie. And then...well, I didn’t exactly grow to like it; more like it got more tolerable as it progressed. While the film’s heart might be in the right place, there are simply too many elements that come across as grating and never really do enough to earn validation by the end. The setting of a magical world populated by fairy tale creatures seems contrived; you can’t help but wonder, while viewing early scenes, if this choice was made for any reason other than the crucial use of magic to make the story work—and that comes across as not very creative, perhaps even lazy, storytelling. Tom Holland’s voice, whiny and and annoying under the best of cinematic circumstances, is like a dentist's drill throughout much of these proceedings. Other elements that have become de rigeur in late-period Disney works only serve to elicit eye rolls here. Simply put, none of this ever truly clicks here; the viewer waits in vain for moments of actual cinematic wizardry. This work, combined with the disappointing production of Toy Story 4 immediately proceeding, marks the real beginning of a steep decline in the quality of Pixar movies, one that has yet to be reversed as of this writing, now four years after this piece made its debut. Geese do not lay golden eggs forever, I guess. Let’s see them try to scare up some movie magic like they used to make; that’s the real quest the studio needs to focus on.

Toy Story 4

I guess there’s a reason why they usually stop movie series at three entries. It becomes impossible to not experience, when watching a fourth installment of a franchise, a sense that you’ve seen all this stuff before—that you are looking at a paper or a picture that has been copied a few times too many, or copied from a copy of a copy. That’s the sense I got watching this film. The familiar characters are there, a somewhat familiar storyline is there—this series has done both new character introductions and finding a long-lost friend in prior sequels—but at this point they just don’t have the same impact as they originally did. Not surprising, really; it requires a ton of fresh creative input to keep old characters and scenarios feeling even relatively fresh, and there just isn’t a lot of vibe that the studio was up to that challenge here. Thus, it was not a surprise that my attention started to wander long before this flick reached its climax, let alone the potentially series-altering denouement. I know they’re planning yet another sequel for this series—perhaps without Hanks, though that issue probably wouldn’t be insurmountable—but I suspect the only thing that will come of the attempt will be further proof of Disney’s current creative bankruptcy. Oh, I suppose I should note that the uncritical among us—like children, the target audience here—will absorb this outing with the same level of pleasure the first three provided. But for the rest of us, I think we should expect a bit more for our time and attention. It just might be time to put away these childish things.

Incredibles 2

Kind of a weird mishmash of several films that explored the “virtues/vices of superheroes” theme—the Dark Knight movies and Watchmen immediately spring to mind—except in a kids’ version. (Some of the MCU movies cover the question as well, but they’re really already for kids.) Unlike those antecedents, this one plays it mostly for chuckles, and draws its conclusions in a largely facile fashion—nothing dark and brooding here. Ultimately, the product is enjoyable and fun, if lightweight and not particularly impactful. Incredible? Not really. Watchable? Certainly.

Coco

Sure, “exposition” does sound a bit like a Mexican word. Maybe that’s why so much of this script, in its early scenes, comes across as pure explainer. Or maybe the filmmakers felt the need to spell everything out for what would be a largely unfamiliar audience. Whatever the reason, it takes a while for the movie to shake off that sense of teaching lessons and get into the heart of telling its true story. And heart is what it’s all about: even with cultural touches that come across as somewhat weird to non-initiated, the ultimate impact of this tale comes from the universal connection we all have to family, to memories, and to the same fate we all share. Only the most churlish can fail to be touched by the movie’s message of bonded love that transcends time. And, as an added appeal, there is terrific musicianship throughout the film’s many musical moments. All in all, un buen momento para todos.

Finding Dory

There are moments, particularly early on, when you have to be a bit worried that this flick is going to be tedious and not worth your time. But then the sheer inventiveness of the storytelling—in figuring out ever more clever ways of having marine creatures get around out of the water—works its magic, and you can’t help but admire the cumulative effect of the thing. There aren’t many home runs in this tale, but there sure are a lot of singles and doubles here, enough to ensure this movie makes it home—pun/entendres intended—with more than enough scores to earn the win. Go fish.

The Good Dinosaur

Oh boy. I had a bad feeling about this one going in, and the questions immediately raised by the first few minutes only affirmed that ominous impression. Why make a film that displays, rather ostentatiously, technical mastery of hyperrealistic visuals, and then have cartoonishly rendered characters? The most likely answer is, the project was targeted towards children, and their uncritical viewing habits, from the start. That decision made it inevitable that a certain laziness of thought would be baked into the entire development. The results of that trajectory show painfully in every element of the script, where every plot point can be seen coming from the entire width of a carefully designed CGI landscape away. For instance, the main crisis, when it comes, is profoundly predictable. You know almost from the opening credits that a certain character is a goner. (You may ask yourself, is this a Disney film? Well, let’s see…dead parent? Yep. Okay, that checks out.) Little else in the movie’s circuitous story comes as a surprise, either. Some scenes and characters come across as not just predictable, but tedious and out of context, too. The whole thing is ultimately banal, formulaic and even nonsensical in key moments. (The main character, though portrayed as young, weak and scared, is apparently harder to kill than a Terminator.) Not even the title makes much sense. “Good” how? How was Arlo not good in the first place? Assuming the titular adjective is aspirational, wouldn’t “brave” or “wise” or even “not so hopeless” have made more sense? At least the flawlessly rendered scenery gives the viewer his money’s worth. It seems like that was the point of this exercise, showing off the technical wizardry while assuming that they could get away with a poorly developed story because the movie would be watched mostly by children. That’s not exactly what one should expect from the ostensible lead studio in animated cinema. Whether the dinosaur deserves the label “good” or not is debatable; but you couldn’t apply that adjective to this flick in several million years.

Inside Out

Much as with the structure of this movie itself, you have to get behind the facade to see what’s really going on here, and to find where the thing is most effective. The overarching metaphor is so prominent, so flamboyantly at center stage in how the story is presented, that the viewer must make some major effort to form a connection with the main character—in this case, the girl Riley, not the representations of her emotions. That connection is always the core of what makes an effective film. Once you find that very human link, and allow the artifice to shift more into the background where it belongs, then this story begins to have its intended impact. In this viewer's case, the connection was more than just an abstraction. I, too, moved from a cold weather location to the San Francisco area, at right about the same age, and as a big hockey fan, no less; certain parallels really hit home for me. (Alas, I never was able to adjust. Then again, I never learned to skate, either.) It goes without saying that some story elements here—particularly the loss of early memories, and even parts of one’s earliest self--can be triggers for some deep ruminations about just how one's life has worked out (or not). While some aspects of this script may be too cloying or simplistic, there is just enough humor, wit and wisdom in these scenes to lift the overall rating into something positive, entertaining, and even touching in the end. We’re all big bundles of emotions, after all, so everyone can relate with this work, at least a little bit. I’ve got a feeling … that this one is worth a look.

The Rocketeer

There are shades of Spielberg, with minor touches of Lucas, all throughout this forgotten cult fave. The use of light and shadow. ILM special effects. A score very reminiscent of Raiders of the Lost Ark's music. The 1930s setting. A slew of classic movie tropes, all used for both homage and subtle humor. And of course, Nazis. Definitely a familial resemblance, as a cousin at least, to Raiders and other Lucas/Spielberg collaborations of the ‘80s. No real surprise there, since director Joe Johnston worked on the original Star Wars trilogy and was an art director on Indy’s first adventure. So does this work, if you’ll pardon the pun, soar as high as its ancestral films? Not quite. It has much going for it: the aforementioned borrowed elements of earlier hits; it looks great—especially its recreation of 1930s Hollywood glamour—and that doesn’t even count the visual feast that is a very young and incredibly gorgeous Jennifer Connelly; and the story and script offer lots of entertainment value, with nice amounts of action and humor. But the whole package never quite grabs the viewer all the way; the stakes don’t seem nearly as high as the story elements would have you believe. And, overall, the plot takes a little too long to take flight. (You don’t see the Rocketeer rocketeering until well into the running time.) And, perhaps, lead/hero bill Campbell and villain Timothy Dalton don’t quite have the charisma, in either direction, to really get the viewer totally engaged. So it’s no surprise that a movie like this, which has its fans, also never quite caught on with the viewing public. And there it sits, a modest monument to a brand of filmmaking that once upon a time dominated big-budget big-screen entertainment, and a precursor to the superhero genre that eventually came to rule the motion picture landscape. Maybe Disney will choose to make a reboot of this one, some revved up version with a similar storyline that will take another shot at zooming to amazing heights. (God knows they’ve mined every other past property at this point.) Until then, we have this pleasant, charming, somewhat modest piece of entertainment available to be watched, mildly enjoyed, and then tucked away into a corner of almost forgotten-ness. Sounds about right to me.