Kamis, 24 November 2011

Arthur Christmas - Movie Reviews

 Arthur Christmas
 
 There are two types of movies that are particularly hard to judge at this strange juncture in cinema: animated films and Christmas movies. The former is not, really, due to a lack of offerings in the medium but more the fact that Pixar has dominated the genre for much of the last two decades; save for the occasional burst of brilliance from Dreamworks ( How to Train Your Dragon), the studio's supremacy in this area has rarely been in dispute, so everything else tends to pale in comparison. Even this summer's woebegotten Cars2 had more originality than a good chunk of the latter three Shrek movies. Christmas movies, meanwhile, generally are what they are, which is to say mildly amusing seasonal escapism with no real purpose or function outside the winter months, originally guaranteed heart-warmers, they've become more formulaic by the year and critics have generally treated as such, rendered cold by the skepticism of a skeptical age. (Case in point: they're usually released on DVD a full year after their theatrical run to coincide with the next year's holiday season. Ho ho ho, meet sell sell sell.)
In any case, the rarely-heard-from Sony Pictures Animation is throwing their own horse into both races, a 3D-enhanced, Bieber-cosigned (the music video for his Jackson Five-interpolating cover of "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" precedes each screening, in full 3D no less) holiday jaunt called Arthur Christmas that's hardly a home run on either front, but with an impressively invested voice cast and a genuine heart at its center, it will certainly qualify as a high-pop double. The film is hardly memorable for any of its plot points (except for a genuinely touching ending, but more on that later) but it is infectiously genuine. For all its 2011 bells and whistles, it seems to have come from an earlier, more innocent era of filmmaking when audiences were not yet so jaded; it's heavy-handed at best yet so completely invested in the candy-coated shtick it's selling you can't help but get swept up in its better moments.
The film borrows its wildly amusing premise from the notion that, yes Virginia, Santa Claus (voice of Jim Broadbent) exists, his name is actually Malcolm, and he's got a bustling, Modern Family-style brood to call his very own. Our Arthur Christmas (James McAvoy) is his youngest son, a clodhopping goofball in an itchy-looking sweater and slippers that beep and boop Yuletide carols with every step. Designated responder for all of Santa's fan mail, Arthur is this film's embodiment of the Christmas mythos as applied to young kids; all he wants is for everyone to get a present and believe that Santa loves them enough to have paid them an honest-to-gosh visit. The character himself doesn't really have much to do besides recite the usual Christmas message, but McAvoy's delivery of each line at a high-pitched squeal, as if Arthur is waking up every day on, well, Christmas morning, is as infectious to experience as it is irritating to have described to you. If you have to be force-fed a heap of Yuletide mush, you want it to be from a guy like this.
On the opposite end of the spectrum is Santa's eldest son and heir to the big guy's mantle, an enterprising meathead named Steve (Hugh Laurie) who has streamlined Christmas night into a full-scale, military-style operation complete with a giant, sleigh-shaped spaceship and an army of elves (hilarious, every one of them) who deliver presents and slip into houses in the same manner as Tom Cruise tends to infiltrate evil foreigners in the Mission: Impossible movies. If Arthur is the Miracle on 34th Street version of Christmas, all wide-eyed and wonder, Steve is its Jingle All The Way , focusing his attentions on the bells and whistles of the holiday season and not so much on the soul. At one point, he purports to give a child an upgraded version of the toy they had originally asked for. "Bigger, ergo, better," he chips in Laurie's impeccable British accent.

As mentioned before, the plots in these movies are almost superfluous, but it does help that this one is genuinely interesting: Steve is denied the Santa Claus title and forgets to deliver a kid's present to boot. While he convalesces in jealousy and Malcolm snoozes away, Arthur hijacks the original Santa sleigh to deliver the lost gift. Comedy ensues, some impressively adult cultural references are tossed around, the ornery coot "Grandsanta" (a fantastic Bill Nighy, doing what appears to be a Geoffrey Rush impression for some reason) all but steals the show, and the movie generally lives up to its kid-friendly premise while keeping the adults entertained.

Suffice it to say, everyone knows exactly where this movie is headed, except not. While you'd expect the coda to be treacly, preachy, condescending or some unholy marriage of the three, director and co-writer Sarah Smith smartly keeps it quiet and intimate, focusing on the little sounds that make Christmas morning pop in the memories of even the most jaded adults: the creaking of the steps, the cracking of the wrapping paper, the peek of the morning light through the window, and the child's squeal that brings the whole thing home (that this film came from Wallace and Gromit masterminds Aaardman Animation makes it seem less surprising that they nail the scene so beautifully, but at the risk of spoiling the party, one does wonder how the movie would have played out in Claymation). 

And yes, there is a certain amount of mush following that particular scene, but that, it seems, is the trade-off. Still, there is something to be said for a movie that, at the end of the day, puts its money in faith and fancy to carry the day. Grinch about it all you want. Resistance is futile.
 

The Muppets - Movie Reviews

The Muppets
 
 One of the great things about Jim Henson's Muppets shows and films was really just how much of the Muppets there were in them. Sure, humans continually popped into frame -- whether it was Steve Martin mugging for his ten seconds of screen time or Charles Grodin playing baddie. But mostly Henson stuck to his gloriously personable sock puppet weirdos destroying the set or bringing the house down with a big musical number. So while it's fantastic to see Jason Segel bringing the guys back to the big screen in proper form, it's disconcerting to see humans so prominently displayed. Amy Adams certainly does pull off a sweet solo number with admirable flash, but wouldn't it have been better with a backup chorus led by Rizzo the Rat?
Segel stars in and wrote this snarky-smart film, and he deserves credit for bringing back a franchise that had been driven into the ground by the uninspired likes of Muppet Treasure Island -- and with no less a creativity-killer behind him than the Muppets' new bosses: Disney. A soft-featured giant with a penchant for innocent-faced hangdog types, Segel plays Gary, mild-mannered resident of Smalltown whose brother Walter just so happens to be a Muppet who's obsessed with the TV Muppets. Gary agrees to bring Walter along on the anniversary trip he and his longtime girlfriend Mary (Adams, beaming to beat the sun) are taking to Los Angeles, blithely ignoring Mary's total disatisfaction with the arrangement.
A high-stepping song in which Gary and Walter sing about how perfect everything is kicks things off like a chirpy, hard-working Broadway musical. The smiles are stretched as wide as an IMAX screen and an air of mildly trippy surrealism pervades (perhaps the film's best nod to the original 1979 film). Disappointment looms when Walter discovers that the Muppet theater is a run-down dusty shell on Hollywood boulevard, and the old gang scattered to the winds. That blow is followed up by the arrival of oilman Tex Richman (Chris Cooper), who's exploiting a loophole in the Muppets contract that gives him control of the theater --  and the oil deposits underneath -- if the Muppets can't raise $10 million in a few days.

Like a latter-day Blues Brothers, the film quickly pivots into "we're getting the band back together mode," always a convenient excuse for giving a large cast of characters their moment to shine. As great as it is to see Miss Piggy swanning around the Paris offices of Vogue and Gonzo as a filthy rich toilet magnate, though, Segel earns extra points for imagining Animal in anger management class ("Jack Black says no drums!").

Segel and director James Bobin set the mood to full, beaming grins. All this sunshine is layered with gags that mostly zing (Kermit blowing dust off his old guest-star rolodex and calling up President Carter is a nice touch) but don't come as fast and thick as they could. Surprisingly, given Bobin's experience directing
Flight of the Conchords, he doesn't pack the film with songs. Earlier films like The Great Muppet Carpet had so many production numbers they were essentially musicals. The Muppets has just a few original numbers, including one with Cooper that could be the best solid minute of film audiences will see all year, padded out with covers ranging from the good (Gonzo's chickens doing Cee-Lo) to the sublime (a barbershop quartet rendition of "Smells Like Teen Spirit").

The Muppets
is most satisfying the closer it hews to the glorious chaos of the old TV show, a mood heavily replicated in its last third. That sense of flailing vaudeville anarchy is missed in the rest of the film, which is funny enough and even occasionally touching, but sometimes forgets the cardinal rule of any Muppets creation: the humans should be there for cameos and celebrity hosting, not to star.