CHIP 'N DALE: RESCUE RANGERS

Directing: B-
Acting: B+
Writing: B-
Cinematography: B
Editing: B-
Animation: B

I went back and forth as to whether I would even review this movie, my reaction to it was so . . . lackluster. I daresay I was disappointed, but that’s not entirely the movie’s fault: I let people whose opinions I respect convince me to expect something far better than it was.

The common comparison is to Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, the groundbreaking film blending live action and animation in 1988, now a marvel also because of its unique blend of both Warner Brothers and Disney cartoon properties. Chip ‘n Dale: Rescue Rangers is also packed with cultural references, not all of them Disney—but I didn’t notice any Warner Brothers cartoons.

I even heard someone call this movie a new “classic,” and that was really what finally cinched my decision to fire up Disney+ and watch it. A “classic,” this movie is not. If you want to see what a classic really is, just watch Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, right there on that same streamer. It’s a far, far superior film. Not only that, but it’s a period piece and it holds up: that film could have been released today and it still would have impressed.

Plus, it’s packed with both verbal and visual gags that are far quicker and far smarter than the ones peppered in Chip ‘n Dale. To be fair, the original Chip ‘n Dale: Rescue Rangers TV show that ran on the Disney Channel from 1989 to 1990 was not something I ever saw, and nostalgic fans of the show will likely delight in this film and how it trades on that nostalgia. I can understand that much, and appreciate the conceit in this film, in which the characters are the chipmunk actors who played Chip ‘n Dale in the TV show over thirty years ago, and are now a bit washed up. Chip (John Mulaney) works as an insurance agent (“Coercive Insurance” being one of my favorite subtle gags). Dale (Andy Samberg) is attending fan conventions to sign autographs—something that provides ample opportunity for the presence of many other kids’ programming character cameos.

Their friend and former coworker Monterey Jack (Eric Bana) finds himself kidnapped by a shady organization that alters cartoon characters for the purpose of overseas bootlegging, itself a running gag that runs kind of stale, and thus the estranged Chip and Dale reteam in order to attempt a real-life rescue.

It should be noted that the Chip and Dale characters speak with regular voices, not the high-pitched, sped-up voices of their “characters.” This film is filled with meta jokes about “making it” in Hollywood (or not), as well as the seedy side, and has some surprisingly adult jokes that little kids won’t understand: “Now he can’t have kids.” There’s a fun sequence on “Main Street” in which we discover the seedy underbelly of Hollywood toons, who push things like cheese as though they are drugs (Monterey Jack has a problem).

My main criticism is that not all of the gags land, and sometimes there is too much time spent between the gags for things like exposition or character development. I’m sorry to keep coming back to Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, but that film expertly blended all of those things with its clever humor, and often Chip ‘n Dale goes for easy rather than clever humor. Admittedly, it did get me to laugh out loud a few times.

The overall sense I got from Rescue Rangers, however, was one of a “direct to streamer” movie—and I mean of the sort that was typical before the pandemic. We now can get true quality films direct from streamers, but what Chip ‘n Dale is, is . . . fine. I can’t muster enough enthusiasm to think of it as something to get excited about, and that’s what disappoints me. I had hoped that, at the very least, I could tell people you don’t have to be familiar with the original Disney Channel show for this movie to come highly recommended. Instead, I think perhaps you do need to have seen the show. I have no connection to it, so, in spite of this movie’s many pop culture references, it just didn’t land the way I wanted it to.

At the very least, I will compliment the voice work: John Mulaney and Andy Samberg are great; as are the vast supporting cast of characters, including J.K. Simmons as the police “Captain Putty”; Will Arnett as “Sweet Pete,” an overweight, grown-up Peter Pan; and even Flula Borg as “DJ Herzogenaurach.” We also get Dennis Haysbert as Zipper; Seth Rogen as several characters; and Tim Robinson as “Ugly Sonic,” playing on a notorious internet controversy that no one knows about, and I am unconvinced will be as hilarious as intended for those who do.

Basically, Chip ‘n Dale: Rescue Rangers is entertaining enough, for something to watch at home with the family. It just fell short of what I wanted or expected.

Did I mention that Dale got “CGI” surgery? Hilarious!

Overall: B-

TURNING RED

Directing: B+
Acting: B
Writing: A
Cinematography: B+
Editing: B+
Animation: B

Turning Red is simultaneously about adolescent friendship and about mother-daughter relationships, and it handles both fantastically. The premise seems simple, in which a 13-year-old discovers she transforms into a giant red panda whenver she gets too emotionally excited, but it winds up being a great allegory for multiple shared experiences at once. There’s the idea of “harnessing your inner beast.” There’s acknowledging your “messy side.” There’s the literalness of the title, when an adolescent goes beet red with embarrassment. There’s even a brief sequence in which it effectively stands in as a symbol for when a girl has her period for the first time: “I’m a gross red monster!” One might thing I’m reaching with that one—except it literally happens when Mei’s mother, not yet understanding the true nature of the situation, is trying to offer her pads.

Things like this are surely why Turning Red is rated PG. It’s also the third Pixar movie to be released directly to Disney+, although it’s arguably the first not to be done out of necessity. That said, after having watched it, this film feels right for an at-home streamer. Perhaps we’ve just been spoiled by 27 years of Pixar Animation’s visual excellence, where in many cases the animation largely made up for somewhat waning story quality. Turning Red flips the script, so to speak, and offers animation that is . . . fine. It’s the story that truly elevates it, and makes for a wonderfully cozy, adorable, funny and moving at-home watch.

This movie happens to be the second Pixar film directed by a woman (the first was Brenda Chapman, though she co-directed Brave in 2012 with two men), the first to be solo directed by a woman, and the first to be directed by a woman of color. Domee Shi, who also co-wrote this delightful script, was born in China but grew up in Toronto, and having written largely based on her own family experience, thus provides the explanation for the film’s Toronto setting. Characters mention the city of Toronto regularly, and there are many establishing shots of the Toronto skyline, always with the CN Tower figuring prominently. I just found myself wishing those shots were rendered with a little more depth and personality; instead, they sometimes feel a little like a cartoon version of old movie matte painting backdrops.

Admittedly, this sort of thing was why it took a few minutes for me to really feel hooked into the story of Turning Red. The visual design of the characters themselves are a little “cartoonier” than normal for Pixar, and for the first several minutes we see the establishment of setting and the introduction of characters, particularly Meilin (voiced by 16-year-old newcomer Rosalie Chang) and her diverse group of three best friends (voiced by Ava Morse, Hyein Park and Maitreyi Ramakrishnan). We see them quite pointedly and realistically acting like giddy, sometimes shrill, 13-year-old girls, and for a moment there I wondered if I would be able to tolerate this movie.

But, then we get introduced to Mei’s perfectionist mother, Ming (Sandra Oh), and we understand the central conflict of the story, which is a tension between Mei’s love for her mother and her love for her friends. Domee Shi and her two co-writers, Julia Cho and Sarah Streicher, write about these relationships exceedingly well, never painting anyone involved as inherently malicious. They are just people who make mistakes, who sometimes make misguided decisions in the service of the people they love.

By the time Meilin’s red panda is unleashed, Turning Red takes a quick turn, becoming equal parts entertaining and surprisingly layered, both with thematic meaning and cultural tradition. I love the diversity of both the characters and the voice cast here, not just for its own sake, but more importantly, because it accurately reflects the city in which it’s set: Toronto is one of the most multicultural and cosmopolitan cities in the world, more than half its residents belonging to a visible minority group, and just under half being immigrants born outside the country.

Mei’s family is well established, though, both her and her mother speaking with American accents; only Mei’s grandmother, Wu (voiced by Wai Ching Ho), speaks with a Chinese accent. Cantonese is regularly spoken, particularly when Grandma Wu arrived with reinforcements—both herself and other family members, presumably aunts, who have all at one point participated in a ritual that breaks the family spell of the red panda.

I also love how centered this story is on women and girls. Turning Red is written and directed by a woman, largely based on her childhood experience with several girl friends, and nearly the entire principal cast is girls or women. The most notable male character is Ming’s husband and Mei’s father, Jin (Orion Lee), and even he is written with more dimension than typically found with a part of that size. Which is to say, he doesn’t get a huge amount of screen time, but he is well woven into the fabric of the story.

The focus here, though, is on Mei’s relationship with the girls and the women in her life: her three best friends; her mother; her grandmother. The story even gets into how that mother-daughter relationship is informed by Ming’s relationship with her own mother—an idea relatable to a great many daughters and mothers, regardless of ethnic or cultural background. Were Turning Red made in an earlier cinematic era, most of the story would have revolved around Mei trying to keep her red panda spell a secret. Instead, Mei’s mother, her friends, and most of her classmates learn about it surprisingly early on. What follows is a struggle for Mei to control it, and her mother’s insistence that it needs to be locked away completely. There’s a lot to unpack here in terms of accepting ourselves—and our children—as who they really are, and not so much taming but learning to live with the beast within.

There is a climactic sequence in which an even more giant panda terrorizes a stadium during a boy-band concert, and it’s a little like a red panda version of Godzilla. If that were all it was, I might have rolled my eyes at it. But there is so much depth to this story, even a showy sequence like that works really well. Given Pixar Animation Studio’s increasingly spotty record in recent years, and the somewhat surprising choice to release straight to streaming, Turning Red exceeds expectations on nearly every level . . . except the animation itself. But, as with our relationships with our children and our parents, we can’t always expect perfection.

This is so embarrassing!

Overall: B+

ENCANTO

Directing: B
Acting: B
Writing: B-
Cinematography: B
Editing: B-
Music: B
Animation: B+

Encanto is Spanish for Charm, and when it comes to this movie . . . it has its moments. It’s hardly a complete waste of time, but, when it comes to a magic house containing a family of people who nearly all possess a magical gift, I expect the experience to be a little more . . . well, magical.

I don’t quite know how to put my finger on it, except to say that Encanto is adequately entertaining, which leaves it below the standards of your average Disney Animation feature. Granted, even with their own slight falterings over the past decade or so, Pixar is a far more reliably great source for feature animation, but Walt Disney Animation Studios has more than proved its own capability, from Bolt (2008) to Zootopia (2016)—even Frozen (2013) is quite good, if you can get past how wildly overrated it is. Listen to me, over here harping on kids whose obsessions have made a movie “overrated.”

I suppose that brings us to a possibly crucial distinction with Encanto. Will kids like it? I don’t have a clue, although I would bet money it won’t hit a zeitgeisty nerve the way Frozen did. I can only speak from my jaded adult perspective, which isn’t even as jaded as I can try making it out to be; I am powerless to the charms of animated features, when their charms are effective.

I do find myself wondering how Encanto will play in Colombia, the nation in which the film is set, with most of its voice talent either Colombian or of Colombian descent. This of course elicits immediate comparisons to the stellar 2017 Pixar film Coco, with its Mexican setting, cast and themes. Bestowing such homage to any other country and culture, provided it is done with sincerity and sensitivity (and ethnically appropriate casting), would be wonderful. I rather wish Colombia had gotten the same treatment, but this pales a bit in comparison. But what do I know? I’m just a white guy who has never been any closer to Colombia than Texas. Clearly, though, the power of representation cannot be overstated, and yet it’s not difficult to find mixed reviews or debates among Colombian people.

For me, Encanto just didn’t reach me the way I wanted it to. There was something inaccessible about it, perhaps partly because of the original songs by Lin-Manuel Miranda, who is of mostly Puerto Rican and not Colombian descent. He’s also very much an American, and although the songs here have certain flair that reference Latin styles, it hews far closer to Broadway tunes. They are very competently written songs, but nothing within the realm of unforgettable or classic music. (The music of Coco came across as far more specific to the culture being represented.) As a result, much of Encanto comes across as a by-the-numbers musical.

It’s quite pretty, at least; there is no question the animation is the best thing about it, with its tropical landscapes and floral tableaus. The protagonist is Mirabel (Stephanie Beatriz), the only person in her extended family who was never granted a magical gift. She has a mother who can heal people with her cooking; a sister who can make roses bloom at her touch; a cousin who is so strong there is nothing she can’t pick up; another cousin who can shape shift; another who can communicate with animals. A reclusive uncle, Bruno (John Leguizamo, by far the most famous voice in the cast), can see quasi-abstract visions of the future. Mirabel is the only one in the family really seen talking to the house itself, which communicates right back, but apparently this doesn’t qualify as a “gift.”

All of this makes for a lot of fun and often amusing antics, but it also serves to convolute the plot, which never quite finds true clarity. Sure, it’s a little boneheaded to demand that a cartoon make logical sense, but having a fully coherent narrative structure isn’t too much to ask. This movie’s team of three directors and eight writers seem to have thrown all their ideas at a wall and just run with anything that did not immediately slip away. Unfortunately, this movie’s story immediately slipped away from my memory as soon as I left the theater.

Encanto is fine, but its disappointment lies in how much better it could have been, instead of something the skates a little close to rote. All films are a collaborative effort, but none more than an animated feature, and the animators go a long way to making this movie watchable—although, alas, I can’t say it commands viewing in the theater. This would have done just as well as a streaming release, or maybe even better. The filmmakers do well in their casting of Latin voices, and showcasing Colombian culture and history, however superficially. It occurred to me that this is an animated feature film without a single non-Latino white character in it, and the characters onscreen run the gamut of skin tones, from quite pale to Black. These are very much good things, and hopefully a step toward such diversity of representation more often. Here’s hoping the next one to come along has that spark of narrative magic not yet reached.

At least it’s pretty.

Overall: B-

CRUELLA

Directing: B
Acting: B+
Writing: B
Cinematography: B+
Editing: B-
Special Effects: C+

If you’re a skeptic but open to giving Cruella a chance, you may find yourself a bit more entertained than expected. I certainly did. The irony is that, even for what limited vision this movie has, it really could have been a lot better. Shaving about 30 minutes off its insane 134-minute run time probably would have done the trick alone.

This is, effectively, a kids’ movie, is it not? If it isn’t, then I don’t know who the hell it was made for—maybe boomers still nostalgic for the original 1961 Disney animated feature One Hundred and One Dalmatians. I never saw the 1996 live action film 101 Dalmatians or its 2000 sequel 2002 Dalmatians, but I can find no indication of any ties between this film and those, aside from Glenn Close executive-producing here. I couldn’t even tell you precisely why I went ahead and saw this one when I actively avoided those other live action films; they all got fairly mixed reviews, after all—except Cruella remains by a fair distance the best-reviewed of the three.

To be honest, the deciding factor was probably rather simple: options. We we living in normal, pre-pandemic times, there’s little doubt there would be many other new releases to choose from this weekend that held far greater interest to me. As it happens, this was the third film I’ve gone to see in a theater since returning to theaters, and there literally was no other better option.

I’m happy to say I don’t regret it, at least. I had heard this film had great costume designs, and to be sure, on that front, Cruella absolutely does not disappoint. The gowns worn both by Emma Stone as the title character, and Emma Thompson as her nemesis, The Baroness, are consistently fabulous. The same goes for the production design, all of which is better appreciated on a large movie screen.

Another point in this movie’s favor is the casting, as Emma Stone nicely fills the role of a young woman we freely empathize with even though we fully understand she will eventually become a psychopath who literally wants to skin Dalmatian dogs in order to make a coat. This never actually happens in Cruella, be assured, although there is a sequence in which she’s convinced other characters she had—and, let’s be honest, that’s sociopathic enough.

The real draw of Cruella, however, is Emma Thompson, who gets to wear the best costumes and infuses those incredible gowns with just the right amount of villainous attitude. Furthermore, her Baroness has murderous intentions for far more than dogs (in fact, here she’s the one with Dalmations, who are the only beings she seems to offer any real love or compassion) and she makes even later-life Cruella look like a saint in comparison.

Side note on the Dalmatians: in many of their scenes, they are CGI rendered, and it’s distracting enough to take you out of the movie, because they never look quite real. This issue is by no means limited to the dogs, though. Almost every clear visual effects shot is rendered as though whoever worked on it decided its audience would be too young (or too stupid?) to notice. We regularly see far better visual effects work on cable or streaming TV series, so this is a bizarrely preventable flaw for a blockbuster motion picture to have.

Rounding out the supporting cast are Joel Fry and Paul Walter Hauser as Cruella’s henchmen Jasper and Horace, respectively. Hauser, for his part, joins Emma Stone as principal actors here who are Americans playing British, which is an interesting, it not unnecessary, choice. Surely they could have found plenty of rotund British actors (not to mention plenty of young British actors who could have been cast in the title role) who fit the part perfectly—but, to Hauser’s credit, he’s surprisingly good at the Cockney accent, and as a result some viewers might even miss that that’s the same guy from I, Tonya and BlacKKKlansman.

Jasper and Horace serve as plot devices here for Cruella to learn “the true value of friendship,” which brings us back to who the audience for this movie is. Once you realize Cruella is rated PG-13 (almost certainly due to the aforementioned allusions to, if not outright animal cruelty, then certainly intentions to it—and also straight up human murder), it can’t be for genuine children. The “Disney” wholesomeness otherwise incongruously thrown in here would suggest that it is, but I can only conclude it’s meant for . . . teenagers? How many teenagers today would actually think this IP from the sixties is actually cool, anyway?

This is a movie that clearly can’t decide exactly what it wants to be. And the thing is, this “Battle of the Emmas” could have been part of a far better movie with basically the same concept but not relying on decades-old, pre-existing IP. Many of these live action remakes and origin stories of old Disney animated features work better than expected, but never surpass or even come close to equalling the originals. Apparently, and unfortunately, recycling the same shit over and over is the only way studios seem to be able to rake in the box office profits anymore.

In other words, there’s a ton of unrealized potential here, between the story and the actors. Does no one even think about the objective impracticality of turning Dalmatians into fur coats? Sure, the spots are cool looking, but Dalmatians are short-haired dogs; a fur coat is meant to be not just posh but lush, and maybe warm? In other words, I just wish I could have seen a great, clever movie with Emma Stone and Emma Thompson as viciously sparring fashion designers. (Another side note: Cruella never offers any explanation for her succeeding at creating a public rivalry with The Baroness, beyond mere publicity stunts. No one in this movie ever questions: where does Creulla create, design, manufacture, or sell her clothes? I suppose here I’m just getting nitpicky. It’s my job!)

Cruella is a potentially good idea, limited by the constraints of being a prequel none of us ever needed. I have to admit, though, that even within those limitations, and especially thanks to delicious performances, it’s still a good time.

No Dalmatians were harmed in the making of this coat … because they’re all CGI anyway.

SOUL

Directing: A
Acting: B+
Writing: A+
Cinematography: A
Editing: A
Animation: A+
Music: A-

I have no critical notes on Soul. Only praise: this is among the most inventive, imaginative, clever works in the entire Pixar Animation canon, one of the best movies of the year, a crowd-pleaser if there ever was one but with so much depth and layered intention of meaning that it will almost certainly reap new rewards upon rewatching. I can’t wait to watch it again. My love for this movie runs so immediate and so deep, the closest I can come up with as a complaint is that this is truly the first film I have seen all year that left me earnestly wishing I could have seen it in a theater.

Outside of the world of Pixar, its visuals are unparalleled. Multiple times I was transfixed, beginning the instant jazz musician Joe (Jamie Foxx) has an accident leaving his body in critical condition, and his soul untethered and confused, on an astral conveyor belt headed toward the giant white light of “The Great Beyond.” You might think this idea of near death might bring an unwelcome darkness or sadness, but there is nothing like the tragic introduction to Up here; Joe is merely walking down the street after landing the musician gig of his life (where a delightfully aloof but wise band leader is voiced by Angela Bassett), passing a series of comic near-misses before even the accident itself passes as a punch line.

And then, suddenly, Joe wakes up as the “soul” form of himself, a little blue ghost-like creature still recognizably similar to his human form. He rejects his apparent fate headed into The Great Beyond, falls into the astral depths and finds himself in a place called The Great Before. And this place is both far too complex to describe here—it really must be experienced—and the most imaginative rendering of abstract concepts since Pixar’s own, also-spectacular Inside Out (2015). It’s not often that the script is among the things that I am consciously impressed by the most in an animated feature, but Soul’s is one of them: shout out to Pete Docter and Kemp Powers (these two also co-directed), and co-writer Mike Jones, for writing such a uniquely thoughtful and sensitive story, which so directly addresses death without ever once bringing down the mood.

It is also relevant to note that co-director / co-writer Kemp Powers is a Black man, making him the first to direct a Pixar film, an essential element of this also being the first Pixar film with a Black protagonist. These are all fairly significant changes from Soul’s initial story incarnations, which at first had no connection to the Black community; it was when they decided Joe would be a jazz musician that they also decided he therefore should be a Black man. And all of this is simply to say, had they stuck with making “22,” the other soul companion to Joe for most of the film, the main protagonist as initially imagined, Soul would likely have been fine, perhaps even very good—but these changes clearly improved the story a great deal. It seems it’s a kind of happy accident that the film’s title thus takes on a double meaning, as do so many other things in the film.

“22,” the soul whose number-name indicates how long she has been in “The Great Before” before being passed on to Earth—the implication being she was merely the 22nd soul ever created—is voiced by Tina Fey, although that voice is explained to be “a hypothetical” and she could really use any voice she wants. But, she uses that of “a middle-aged white lady” because “it annoys people.” I can imagine that one, otherwise throwaway line might trigger a bit of white fragility in a few people, who could then blow it all out of proportion. To that I say: oh, well! Incidentally, the gag barely even works on me since it’s impossible for me to imagine Tina Fey’s regular speaking voice as annoying in any way, but then, I’m gay and programmed to love middle-aged women as a general rule.

Speaking of stereotypes, Soul conscientiously avoids them among its many characters of color, offering a cast of characters heretofore missing from the Pixar canon, and giving a whole new audience something both to relate to and be delighted by. This may even be the most diverse cast of any Pixar film, also featuring the voice talents of Daveed Diggs, Questlove, Phylicia Rashad, The It Crowd’s Richard Ayoade, Brazilian actress Alice Braga, New Zealand actress Rachel House (curiously, all the Great Before “staff” seem to have accents from the non-American British diaspora), and then a little out of left field, Graham Norton. And this is not to mention the brief cameo appearances by countless other recognizable voices, from the likes of June Squibb, Fortune Feimster, and more.

I was also struck by the music, something I do not often pay much attention to in a movie that is not a musical. Soul is filled with a lot of jazz, which usually does not much speak to me but I quite enjoyed it here, especially in context; I liked it enough that I may buy the soundtrack—but also because of the truly fantastic ethereal score that is heard in the “Great Beyond” and “Great Before” sequences, which, it turns out, were co-composed by Trent Reznor. I was taken by this score to an unusual degree, and it was one of countless details that only made the movie better.

And I haven’t even mentioned the humor, with which, in true Pixar style, Soul is packed to the gills. In many moments I was nearly moved to tears, just by the profundity of the concepts being examined, and still all around those moments I also laughed—a lot. There’s an extended sequence involving a human soul accidentally having been put into a cat, creating an environment and tone wildly different from that of “The Great Before,” and yet the different set pieces still complement each other perfectly, creating a whole film in which all the pieces fit together just right.

It’s doubly impressive that Docter and Powers are offering a story about people’s souls, without ever coming close to making it religious in any way. Instead, the overriding message is that of appreciating life itself, and especially as it pertains to our time on Earth—related lessons needing to be learned by both Joe, who is desperate to get back to his body and live the rest of his life in pursuit of his dreams (a desire more complicated than he realizes); and “22,” who is so contented with her existence in The Great Before that she’s been purposely failing all her tests for moving on to Earth, for thousands of years.

Soul truly has something to offer for everyone, a work of art in the grand tradition of Pixar, which is so beautiful to look at and so completely entertaining that it works for children on their level, without any need for them to catch its many truly complex concepts, which only enrich the text for the adults in the audience. If only I could have seen this one in a crowded theater . . . but, even as it is now, accessible via Disney+, Soul is truly a gift.

You kind of have to be there . . . but if you take the journey, you’ll be so glad you did.

Overall: A

THE WITCHES

Directing: B-
Acting: B-
Writing: B
Cinematography: B+
Editing: B
Special Effects: C+

And here we are again, with yet another remake—at least this time, no one can claim the film being remade was “a masterpiece.” I saw Nicolas Roeg’s 1990 adaptation of Roald Dahl’s children’s book for the first time just a few years ago, and I did not find it particularly memorable on its own. I recall thinking it was . . . fine.

This means a remake in this case is, if not particularly exciting, then also . . . fine. And Robert Zemeckis is a great choice to direct a film like this. In fact, coming in already armed with the knowledge of how mixed the reviews of this 2020 version have been, I spent the first quarter or so of this version of The Wtiches thinking it was going a lot better than I expected. I was quite enjoying myself.

In the first several scenes of this story, we learn the backstory of the orphaned boy whose story this is: his parents killed in a car accident (in a cleverly rotating-camera shot of him still strapped into the backseat of the overturned car), he is taken in by his grandmother (Octavia Spencer). When they realize a local witch has tried to offer him candy in a grocery store, Grandma takes him into hiding at an opulent resort where her cousin is the chef—and where, it turns out, a local conference of witches is convening. What bad luck!

The setting in this iteration is shifted to 1960s Alabama, and there’s something odd about the choice to make the principal characters Black, particularly from that era. The choice itself is not necessarily odd, but there are only two logical approaches here: either keep the characters as they were in the book, or, if the focus will be shifted to a Black family in the Jim Crow-era American South, there should be more direct acknowledgment of very real racial inequities. Minority actors (not to mention female leads, of which this film has both) getting work is always good to see, but pretending their unique real-world experiences don’t exist doesn’t make much sense. The closest we get here is Grandma telling the boy that witches are more prone to prey on “the poor” because their children aren’t as missed when they are gone.

That said, I did very much enjoy Octavia Spencer’s performance in this movie. Anne Hathaway, as the Grand High Witch, is a bit more spotty. There are moments when her delivery has some hilarious subtlety, and also moments when she goes too far over the top. That is when The Witches kind of goes off the rails.

The first half is much better than the last half. The Witches introduces itself with compellingly stylized visuals, and a nice sprinkling of humor. I laughed out loud several times, more than I had expected. The laughs evaporate in the second half, when the story gets overrun with slapstick antics and Zemeckis’s over-fondness for the grotesque: the witches’ hoof-like feet, their clawed hands with only three fingers, Hathaway’s SGI grin so wide on her face she looks like a second-rate Joker. To the credit of the effects team, the look still manages to be genuinely creepy.

I must bring up the effects, however. The cinematography in this film is its best feature, highlighting a production design packed with vibrant colors. The special effects never hit the mark. The Grand High Witch has a cat, which she has amusingly named Hades (mental note: name for a future pet cat of my own?), and rather than deal with a real cat on set, it is entirely rendered in CGI. I don’t know how they allocated this movie’s clearly big budget, but not much of it went to that cat. Even worse is the three talking mice that are also CGI rendered, all of them way more expressive than they need to be, as though literal cartoons inside what is supposed to be a live-action film.

I do go back and forth regarding how well this film works for children themselves. This is a kids’ movie, after all, and such movies have no obligation to speak to adults at the same time—though it’s always convenient when they do. Depending on the age of the child, The Witches might be eye-roll-inducing and dumb; it might be riveting from beginning to end; for younger children it could easily be terrifying. It all depends on the child’s age and maturity level, although I do like the dark places this film is unafraid to go, and that it doesn’t quite offer the type of “happy ending” one might expect—though it is one viewers can live with. It’s the getting there that is definitively a mixed bag.

I mean, okay. That’s a little much.

Overall: B-

THE LION KING

Directing: B+
Acting: B+
Writing: A-
Cinematography: B+
Editing: A-
Special Effects: A

One might easily argue that a 2019 CG remake of The Lion King is both pointless and redundant, after a 1994 original animated film that at the time became the fourth-most successful movie ever; a 1997 Broadway musical version that continues to run to this day and is the highest grossing Broadway production ever; and even a 2011 re-release of the original animated film in 3D so skillfully applied it actually enhanced the experience.

I went in to this new Lion King with every expectation that it would be . . . okay. For me, that counts as a heavy dose of skepticism. As it happens, this new movie easily justifies its own existence.

And I say this as someone who would still say the original was superior, and even that the 2011 3D version is superior. It’s rare that 3D impresses me, but that one did; I gave it a solid A. That 2011 release genuinely amazed me.

I did not see the current release in 3D, which is an option. Maybe it’s fine; I can tell you it’s a great movie even without it. This is director John Favreau’s second CG treatment of a classic Disney property after The Jungle Book (2016), which I also very much enjoyed, and The Lion King is even more impressive in its environmental renderings. The Jungle Book had a live-action boy at the center of it, but the thing that makes The Lion King stand apart is that it looks very much like live action, but is technically an entirely animated film. In its own way, this movie genuinely amazed me as well.

It’s almost shocking how well it works. We’re talking about a story whose characters are all talking animals, rendered more realistically than anything you’ve ever seen out of actual live action. In traditional animation, talking animals are expected; they can easily be given more relatable, human-like emotions and expressions. This animal kingdom is sort of like watching a wildlife documentary except the animals are caught up in Shakespearean drama — literally: the story is basically Hamlet with lions. In any case, this unusual combination might cause a bit of cognitive dissonance for some.

I’ve already heard the many reasons people have for being disappointed with this movie, really none of which do I agree with. I have a theory that anyone who loved the animated feature as a child but chooses to reject this film just grew old and uptight and needs to pull the animated stick out of their ass. Really, this is like the natural evolution of animation as a genre, and it’s the perfect kind of story for it. There is very little “uncanny valley” effect here.

I will say this. The effects in this movie are stunning. That does not mean they’re guaranteed to age well. It’s still relying on computers to render the picture of human imagination, and it still has limits that date it in ways traditional animation can’t be. Animated classics remain as beautiful today as they were at their time of release, from Bambi to Sleeping Beauty to The Little Mermaid to The Lion King. Another twenty years from now, the original Lion King will look as good as it ever did; the 2019 version certainly won’t. Special effects technology will improve to the point where you can’t decipher the difference between it and live footage, in which case, what’s the point? Well, getting the animal characters to talk, I suppose.

But, we’re talking about right now, and right now The Lion King is absolutely worth the time and effort, particularly to be seen in a movie theater. The story is nearly identical to the original film — even a good majority of the shots are — but there is true magic in seeing it rendered this way. In the first half of the film, when young Simba (voiced by JD McCrary) and young Nala (Shahadi Wright Joseph) are lion cubs, they are almost unbearably adorable. If you’re a cat lover at all, you will love this movie.

I do tend to insist that movies should be judged on their own merits, but that assertion works better for film adaptations of novels than for remakes. The original Lion King is still out there and still beloved, after all, with unforgettable voice work by the likes of Whoopy Goldberg, Cheech Marin, Jeremy Irons and more. In the current iteration, the only voice used again is that of James Earl Jones as Mufasa. Jeremy Irons was deliciously evil as the villain brother Scar, now voiced by Chiwetel Ejiofor. The delivery now lacks a certain punch, but it’s also appropriate. In this photorealistic version of the animal kingdom, it comes with a natural subtlety that actually works better for it. Ejiofor still effectively makes the character his own.

And it must be noted that this film is not without its own fun and humor, particularly with John Oliver voicing Zazu the Puffin; a charmingly gruff Seth Rogen as Pumbaa the warthog; and Billy Eichner, so delightful as Pumbaa’s meerkate best friend that he might be the greatest highlight of the movie. The rest of the cast includes Keegan Michael-Key and Eric André as hyenas; Amy Sedaris as a guinea fowl; Elfre Woodard as Simba’s mother Sarabi; and Simba and Nala as grown lions are voiced by Donald Glover and Beyoncé. Glover and Beyoncé don’t especially stand out in their speaking parts, but they certainly serve their purpose as vital characters — and God knows, Beyoncé’s singing voice is always a welcome addition.

And yes, there’s that — not only do these animals talk, but they sing. So what? They did in The Jungle Book too, and in both cases, somehow, it works, even with these songs all being lifted directly from the original film (with one new track by Beyoncé). I did think about this: how well does 2019’s The Lion King play to people who, by some miracle, actually have never seen the original? In spite of the fact that these animals sing solely because the original exists, and this certainly would never been a musical film otherwise, I would still say it likely plays quite well to anyone coming to the story for the first time. In fact, this movie is overall so well executed, it’s entirely conceivable that anyone seeing thei version first would prefer it to the original. And there wouldn’t be anything wrong with that!

There’s a lot to say about The Lion King — clearly, as I’ve already said about 1100 words about it. This is one case where I am mystified by the mixed reviews, but entirely unsurprised by the box office success. The criticism people have is almost exclusively nitpicky, borne of people overprotective of their own childhood memories. This movie exceeded my expectations on every level, gripping me with its drama in spite of how familiar it was, and otherwise left me with a constant smile on my face.

The rightful rulers of their world.

Overall: A-

TOY STORY 4

Directing: B+
Acting: B+
Writing: B+
Cinematography: B+
Editing: A-
Animation: A

My love of the Toy Story franchise cannot be overstated, especially since Toy Story 3 became not only my favorite in the series, but my favorite movie of 2010. When the first Toy Story was released in 1995, it established Pixar Animation Studios as the industry standard for CG animated features, for visual impressiveness and storytelling power in equal measure; with Toy Story 2 in 1999, Pixar’s first-ever sequel proved that they were capable of sequels equal to their predecessor. But, a second sequel, eleven years after the last installment? Which was more emotionally affecting even than the previous to put together? The achievements of Toy Story 3 astonish me to this day.

So, I had mixed expectations for Toy Story 4 — and, in the end, somewhat mixed feelings about it after the fact. Could the lightning in a bottle they managed with a third film in a series, which still woks perfectly as the final installment of a trilogy, be repeated with a fourth installment? In short: no. But, it’s more complicated than that. Toy Story 4 feels like a revisit to a world we all love, and it is undeniably fun and emotionally affecting in its own right. But it also doesn’t not particularly innovate the story in any way, doesn’t move these characters’ universe any further forward than they had gone the last time around.

With eleven years between 2 and 3, and nine years between 3 and 4, there has been an average of ten years between the release of every Toy Story sequel. Entirely new generations of kids exist with the release of each new installment. It seems kind of fitting that much of this new one takes place inside an antique store. Granted, these toy characters have been talking about their conditions as antiques since the second film, but 4 contains a fully contained environment housing relics collecting dust. It feels like a vague allusion to this franchise itself, were they to continue making them.

Sadly, the truth is, of all four of these movies, Toy Story 4 is the least vital. Unlike the first three movies, this one doesn’t even have Andy as part of the narrative thread that connects them all — only the memory of him, which Woody (voiced, as everyone should know by now, by Tom Hanks) can’t learn to let go of. And strangely, even though Toy Story 3 aged its characters close to the amount of time passed between the Toy Story 2 and 3, Toy Story 4 starts with a flashback to “nine years ago” that would actually place it closer to the time of Toy Story 2. In the narrative of 4, Bonnie, the little girl Andy gifted all his toys to at the end of 3 as he headed off to college, is still the same little girl. It has a slightly discombobulating effect, a decade between movie releases but time passing that much in the story with one but not at all with the next.

But. But, but, but! I freely admit I am being nitpicky here. I can nitpick even more: if Bo Peep has been living such a wild outdoor life all this time at a carniva (Annie Potts, who voices the character, did not appear in Toy Story 3), how the hell does her porcelain face and clothes remain so clean and spotless? Pixar is usually better at attention to detail than this. But I’m digressing again! Because: seriously, so what? Toy Story 4 not being the truly great movie I wanted it to be certainly doesn’t change the quality entertainment it offers in its own right and on its own terms.

The new toy characters alone make this movie worth seeing. “Forky” (Tony Hale), a spork with googly eyes made by little Bonnie at kindergarten orientation, is a delightfully weird addition to the gang. Keanu Reeves voices Duke Caboom, a Canadian toy daredevil motorcycle rider with a hilarious amount of pride in himself. Keegan-Michael Key and Jordan Peele show up as the voices of insanely cute and also unruly plush carnival prizes, a bird and a bunny, with overactive imaginations. An antique doll with a pull string but a malfunctioning motor that makes her borderline villainous in her desire for the working motor in Woody’s back, is voiced by Christian Hendricks.

And yes, of course, Tim Allen also returns as Buzz Lightyear, with an amusing running joke about considering his button-press recorded sayings his “inner voice.” Pretty much all the rest of the regular toys return as well, particularly Bo Peep, here basically getting a co-lead part in the story.

Thus, as you might imagine, a whole lot is going on in this movie. It’s an hour and forty minutes long, and it zips along so quickly it feels much shorter than that. And, I must also admit, the more I think about it after the fact, the greater my appreciation for it becomes. That doesn’t make it any more vital as an addition to the series, but it does illustrate that not a single moment of time is wasted watching it either. As with its predecessors, I will no doubt by happy to go see it again.

As always, I must mention the animation. It is as impressive as ever, and here easily the most impressive part of the film — pretty on-brand for Pixar. Because Bonnie’s family has chosen to take a road trip in the interim between kindergarten orientation and the official start of the school year, the majority of the story takes place first on the road, and then at the aforementioned carnival — only a fraction of it takes place in Bonnie’s bedroom. And this carnival allows for some spectacular visual backdrops, the lights, the colors, the spinning rides, the occasional fireworks. This could easily have been a sensory overload, but the animators here present it with a unique beauty, often as deliberately blurred background for the action of the story. It’s animation that looks remarkably like a location shoot.

I suppose these flourishes are increasingly necessary, lest the repetition of the conceit, that toys get misplaced and must find their way back to their kids, get stale. It’s true that these stories are really just variations on the same basic concepts — but then, aren’t all stories? The joy is in the details, and this is a film with plenty such joy to offer.

A return to something we did not need but are sure glad to have.

Overall: B+

SIFF Advance: TROOP ZERO

Directing: B-
Acting: B-
Writing: B+
Cinematography: B+
Editing: B

There’s a pretty strong, old-school “independent movie” vibe to Troop Zero, a light and breezy tale of a young girl in rural late-seventies Georgia getting together a ragtag group of local girls (and one effeminate boy) to form a “Birdie Scouts” troop with the intent of winning a jamboree prize of getting her voice recorded on a record set to be sent to space. The script is both unique and strong, as written by Lucy Alibar (Beasts of the Southern Wild), but the direction, by a female duo called “Bert & Bertie” (which makes me think of avian muppets), much of the time has the feeling of unfinished business. It’s as though there perhaps wasn’t enough time or budget (or both) for a proper amount of rehearsal or number of takes.

To be fair, filming with children is tricky, and Troop Zero features a lot of them, pretty much all of them with the vibe of real kids rather than professional actors. And how easy is it to find that sweet spot between kids who feel genuine onscreen and kids who come across as creepily precocious? Given a choice between the two, I’d take the former; at the very least, there’s nothing odd or unsettling about any of these kids.

Still, I found myself thinking as I watched this movie, what kind of theatrical release this might get. There are far more polished films than this one which these days are better marketed as releases straight to streaming platforms, which seems like perhaps the most appropriate avenue for Troop Zero . Who knows how big an audience it would get there, compared to in movie theatres?

That said, Troop Zero has more than its fair share of genuine charms, not least of which are its opening and closing sequences, with special effects impressively rendered for what was clearly a small budget. The opening credits follow a meteor hurtling towards the Earth, until we zoom in on little Christmas Flint (Mckenna Grace), sitting in a chair under the stars, watching a meteor shower, reminiscing about how her late mother encouraged her interest in making contact with alien life. Christmas is immediately established as a girl with an exceeding interest in science, and what’s not to love about that?

The adult actors rounding out the supporting cast include some pretty big names, not least of which is Viola Davis (who gets top billing, actually) as Rayleen, who works as secretary to Christmas’s downtrodden defense laywer dad (Jim Gaffigan, sporting a truly horrible blond wig). Aside from the many local school bullies, Christmas’s pseudo-nemesis turns out to be Principal Massey, played by Allison Janney.

“Troop Zero” is the number given to the Birdie Scout troop formed by Christmas, because all the other numbers are taken — an attempt at a slight joke at the expense of the misfit kids, I suppose, although it makes little logical sense: apparently the numbers can only go up to thirty? Rayleen gets roped into being their “Troop Mother,” and by extension a much needed mother figure to Christmas.

It feels a little like the more famous actors involved are present as a means of lending attention this movie might not otherwise get. And in more experienced directorial hands, the final product might have been delivered with a bit more finesse. Still, I have to admit that by the end of this movie, it had completely won me over, and I was even misty-eyed by its delightful climax at the jamboree talent show. The story strands all get tied together with a neat bow with a nice emotional payoff, and with a movie like this, you can’t ask for much more than that.

A bit of star power is lent to the proceedings.

Overall: B

SIFF Advance: PACHAMAMA

Directing: B+
Acting: B
Writing: B+
Cinematography: A-
Editing: B+
Animation: A

Although its run time clocks in at an unusually brief 72 minutes, Pachamama is an animated feature the allows its story to settle and sink in, rather than presenting itself as though it is competing for the minuscule attention spans of eight-year-olds. The truth is that likely means it won’t get seen by a particularly wide audience, and that makes me sad. Its animation, “inspired by colorful indigenous art,” is reason enough to be seen on its own.

And herein likes a minor bit of catch-22: it’s wonderful that Netflix has picked up the rights to stream this film, which it reportedly will begin doing as soon as next month. Look for it on Netflix then, if nothing else; it’s better seen that way than not seen at all. But, that also will likely dissuade viewers from seeing it in movie theatres, where it truly is best seen. The artistry is truly unique and beautiful, and there just won’t be the same appreciation for detail on an iPad screen.

A joint production of France, Luxembourg, and Canada — and a 2019 César Award nominee for Best Animated Film — Pachamama is actually directed by Argentina-born Juan Antin, who bases this story largely on the Earth/Time Mother goddess revered by the indigenous people of the Andes. The story thus takes place in a small village just outside the city of Cuzco, once the capital of the Inca Empire, and is presently in modern-day Peru, about 47 miles from the ancient ruins of Machu Picchu.

No “ruins” figure in the story here, as Pachamama takes place during the reign of the Incas — although the two children, Tepulpai (Andrea Santamaria) and Naïra (India Coenen), take a journey by foot from the village to Cuzco. They are seeking the return of a golden totem they use in ceremonial offerings to the goddess Pachamama. In the process, the film Pachamama illustrates a bit of the hubris of both the Incan rulers as well as colonialist conquistadors, as Tepulpai and Naïra get caught in the crosshairs of those conflicts.

All the while, though, always steeped in indigenous Andean mythology, Tepulpai in particularly must learn the importance of both sacrifice and tradition. He’s defiant in the face of offering his “most prized possession” to Pachamama, and starts off pretty petty and selfish. In short, he’s a little asshole — behaving the way a whole lot of children in need of a lesson behave. The is thus the focus of a parable, and a very well rendered one at that.

The story, quite well polished considering there are five credited script writers, offers backdrops of both historical and mythological complexity, behind a veneer of pretty simple and straightforward plotting. Adult viewers will find a film of both visual and narrative depth. Young children are apt to be dazzled both by the story and the colors, provided they give the movie a chance to begin with. If they are desensitized by frenetic animation that relies on chaotic, rapid-fire editing, they might have little interest.

Longer attention spans, however, will very much be rewarded by this film, which is a genuine work of art.

Our young heroes soar above a truly unique template.

Overall: B+