Had to write about this one when I saw it in the listings yesterday. It's the one Disney film that got its hooks into me completely, at least for a while - the only one where I know all the words to all the songs, and the only film I've ever seen more than once at the cinema. For a time, it was a sanity valve through the nastier parts of an abusive relationship, and even now, nearly twenty years on (how did that happen?) I'm not entirely sure that what follows will be entirely objective.
So, here's the basics. Disney's Hercules sees the House of Mouse tackling Greek mythology, albeit without too much regard for the source material. Despite the trappings, what we basically have is a retelling of Hans Andersen's The Ugly Duckling, as the infant god Hercules finds himself trapped in the mortal realm due to the schemes of the villainous Hades (voiced by James Woods). As he grows, however, it becomes obvious that Hercules (Tate Donovan) has kept his divine strength, making him a gawky liability in his rural hometown. Eventually, his adoptive father is forced to tell him the truth, and he sets out on a journey to regain his godhood, aided by jaded satyr Philoctetes (Danny de Vito) and followed at every step by the sultry Megara (Susan Egan). Their progress, meanwhile, is charted by a gaggle of elegantly-dressed muses, whose songs provide exposition at convenient twenty-minute intervals.
Tonally, this is one of Disney's lighter efforts, pitched somewhere between Tangled and The Emperor's New Groove. Sure, the message is there about being yourself as hard as you can, but there's a lot of horseplay to leaven it all, much of which comes courtesy of Pegasus, the comedy flying horse. The voice work is good on all counts, particularly James Woods and Danny De Vito, both of whom impersonate themselves with considerable gusto, and the songs, written by the team who did Little Shop of Horrors, are a sort of gorgeous cod-Motown affair that really floats my boat so long as I remember the first rule of Disney animations and don't listen to the lyrics. The visuals, meanwhile, are heavily inspired by the works of Gerald Scarfe, resulting in a look at once looser and spikier than the usual house style.
I've revisited Hercules a few times since the 90s, but not all that often - it takes me back to a point in my life that I'd rather forget. Trying to look at it through unclouded eyes, however, it actually stands up relatively well. I know people will have you believe that the studio's modern classics are from the Little Mermaid/Beauty and the Beast/Aladdin/Lion King era; they may be right, but Hercules is carried with broader brush strokes and a lighter touch that make it far less eminently mockable. Back in the day, too, it felt courageous of Disney to offer up a heroine who wasn't a total ingenue - Megara is very much in the Katharine Hepburn/Barbara Stanwyck mould, and that was probably what guaranteed the film its place in my heart at the time.
Probably not the greatest thing Disney have ever done, but it still suits my tastes better than most of their output from any era.
Sunday, April 17, 2016
Sunday, April 10, 2016
ParaNorman (2012)
...This is what I love about Laika entertainment: even when they produce a film that falls short of their usual standards, it's still miles better than pretty much all its contemporaries. Even in a year of animation that included Wreck-It Ralph and The Pirates! In an adventure with Scientists!, ParaNorman probably still squeaks a win in terms of sheer quality. It's not as good as Boxtrolls and pretty much nothing's as good as Coraline, but watching it today for maybe the third time, I was struck by quite what a wonderful afternoon's entertainment it was.
I think part of the apparent drop in quality is the film's relatively subdued tone; where Boxtrolls was raucous and Coraline was menacing, ParaNorman's atmosphere is largely one of melancholy. The characters tend towards the slumping and red-eyed, as though they've either just been crying or are trying hard not to.
This is especially true of Norman, our protagonist (voiced by Kodi Smit-McPhee), an object of ridicule in his small Massachusetts town due to his habit of talking to the dead. As far as Norman's concerned, however, this is simply good manners, so he accepts the taunts and spite with quiet resignation and the determination to stay out of the way of the wider world as far as he can. In the face of a zombie uprising, however, he might just be the only one who can stand between the townspeople and a fate too gruesome to imagine. Of course, things are more complicated than that, and the resultant mystery leads him and his family to a greater understanding of human frailty and the need to forgive.
The above may make ParaNorman sound worthier than it is fun, but honestly, nothing could be further from the truth. Writer Chris Butler has constructed a script festooned with affectionate lampoons of horror movie tropes, and laced it with lashings of jokes to appeal to all ages. Of course, there's plenty of the grossout stuff, but some of the throwaway lines sting with the same righteous rage that fuelled the entirety of Boxtrolls. That approach wouldn't have worked here, however, because this is a far kinder movie, soundtracked by my favourite, Jon Brion, in his usual wearily philosophical style.
The film isn't perfect, of course; it suffers from that old chestnut where no fat character is allowed to be taken seriously, which is a shame given the cheerfully egalitarian stance it takes on race and sexuality. Still, as family-oriented animated horror goes, it's one of the best, and almost certainly the best-hearted. One to enjoy.
I think part of the apparent drop in quality is the film's relatively subdued tone; where Boxtrolls was raucous and Coraline was menacing, ParaNorman's atmosphere is largely one of melancholy. The characters tend towards the slumping and red-eyed, as though they've either just been crying or are trying hard not to.
This is especially true of Norman, our protagonist (voiced by Kodi Smit-McPhee), an object of ridicule in his small Massachusetts town due to his habit of talking to the dead. As far as Norman's concerned, however, this is simply good manners, so he accepts the taunts and spite with quiet resignation and the determination to stay out of the way of the wider world as far as he can. In the face of a zombie uprising, however, he might just be the only one who can stand between the townspeople and a fate too gruesome to imagine. Of course, things are more complicated than that, and the resultant mystery leads him and his family to a greater understanding of human frailty and the need to forgive.
The above may make ParaNorman sound worthier than it is fun, but honestly, nothing could be further from the truth. Writer Chris Butler has constructed a script festooned with affectionate lampoons of horror movie tropes, and laced it with lashings of jokes to appeal to all ages. Of course, there's plenty of the grossout stuff, but some of the throwaway lines sting with the same righteous rage that fuelled the entirety of Boxtrolls. That approach wouldn't have worked here, however, because this is a far kinder movie, soundtracked by my favourite, Jon Brion, in his usual wearily philosophical style.
The film isn't perfect, of course; it suffers from that old chestnut where no fat character is allowed to be taken seriously, which is a shame given the cheerfully egalitarian stance it takes on race and sexuality. Still, as family-oriented animated horror goes, it's one of the best, and almost certainly the best-hearted. One to enjoy.
Monday, April 4, 2016
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)
Saw this one on Channel 5 last night and decided to write about it on grounds that it was cinematically important. This had, I promise, absolutely nothing to do with the fact that my planned choice, Alan Bennett's The Lady In The Van - a film about a lonely, cantankerous old woman who cries whilst listening to piano music that absolutely, utterly and in no way whatsoever struck a nerve.
Anyhow, Disney. They're arseholes, aren't they? Getting better, admittedly, but I still don't entirely trust them not to be lulling us into a false sense of security prior to another world domination attempt. Have you seen Elsa from Frozen? We now have pretty much the entirety of our younger female generation worshipping at the altar of a perfect Aryan princess. I'm telling you, we need to be seriously afraid here.
Another Disney sin is the perpetration of the lie that Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was the first full-length animated feature film. It wasn't - that was an Argentinian film called The Apostle, of which there are sadly no remaining copies. For the longest time - up until last night, in fact - I believed the lie, which, I have to say, is pretty much the only reason I turned the damned thing on in the first place.
I watched, though, for the first time in a couple of decades, and I have to say I now find myself in two minds. On the one hand, pretty much everything about it is dodgy, but on the other, it's an awfully handsome piece of work, with painterly backdrops, theatrical composition and silky-smooth motion animation that passes the test of time, if not outright surpassing it. The attention to detail here is astonishing, with dozens of moving items onscreen at any given time, and I couldn't help but admire the sort of effort that had to have gone into creating such a polished piece.
On the other? Well, I could point out that it's hardly a feminist opus, but plenty before me have said that already. True, our protagonist is valued purely for being attractive and doing housework, but can we step back and take a look at our love interest for a second? It's not often, after all, that fictional necrophiliacs are referred to as charming. Once again, I find myself forced to wonder whether the film isn't simply ahead of its time.
Once you take a moment to contemplate the titular seven dwarfs (is that really an accepted spelling of the word?), however, it all gets rather nasty again. If you choose to lay accusations of ableism aside (I was more or less able to accept them as a fictional species but I wouldn't blame you if your mileage varied), there's still the question of how they represent the male gender, namely unwashed children basically incapable of civilised existence without a mother figure to worship.
So, here's a thought: perhaps the film isn't so much misogynistic as outright misanthropic. Perhaps - and bear with me here - it was written by a secret cabal of deranged animal rights fanatics. Look at the evidence: the animals on display are all attractive, clean and kindly, and the only ones who can ever really see through the evil queen's wiles. Heck, perhaps it was the animals who wrote the damned script in the first place.
Sleep well, children, and don't have nightmares.
Anyhow, Disney. They're arseholes, aren't they? Getting better, admittedly, but I still don't entirely trust them not to be lulling us into a false sense of security prior to another world domination attempt. Have you seen Elsa from Frozen? We now have pretty much the entirety of our younger female generation worshipping at the altar of a perfect Aryan princess. I'm telling you, we need to be seriously afraid here.
Another Disney sin is the perpetration of the lie that Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was the first full-length animated feature film. It wasn't - that was an Argentinian film called The Apostle, of which there are sadly no remaining copies. For the longest time - up until last night, in fact - I believed the lie, which, I have to say, is pretty much the only reason I turned the damned thing on in the first place.
I watched, though, for the first time in a couple of decades, and I have to say I now find myself in two minds. On the one hand, pretty much everything about it is dodgy, but on the other, it's an awfully handsome piece of work, with painterly backdrops, theatrical composition and silky-smooth motion animation that passes the test of time, if not outright surpassing it. The attention to detail here is astonishing, with dozens of moving items onscreen at any given time, and I couldn't help but admire the sort of effort that had to have gone into creating such a polished piece.
On the other? Well, I could point out that it's hardly a feminist opus, but plenty before me have said that already. True, our protagonist is valued purely for being attractive and doing housework, but can we step back and take a look at our love interest for a second? It's not often, after all, that fictional necrophiliacs are referred to as charming. Once again, I find myself forced to wonder whether the film isn't simply ahead of its time.
Once you take a moment to contemplate the titular seven dwarfs (is that really an accepted spelling of the word?), however, it all gets rather nasty again. If you choose to lay accusations of ableism aside (I was more or less able to accept them as a fictional species but I wouldn't blame you if your mileage varied), there's still the question of how they represent the male gender, namely unwashed children basically incapable of civilised existence without a mother figure to worship.
So, here's a thought: perhaps the film isn't so much misogynistic as outright misanthropic. Perhaps - and bear with me here - it was written by a secret cabal of deranged animal rights fanatics. Look at the evidence: the animals on display are all attractive, clean and kindly, and the only ones who can ever really see through the evil queen's wiles. Heck, perhaps it was the animals who wrote the damned script in the first place.
Sleep well, children, and don't have nightmares.
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