The Lion King (2019)

 

The Low-Down: For the past decade, Disney has dedicated an immense amount of resources to translating its classic animated films into live-action blockbusters – with varying degrees of success. This new incarnation of The Lion King is unusual because it is, in itself, another kind of animated film: all its creatures, great and small, are computer-generated to look photo-real. The technical wizardry on display is undoubtedly impressive. But the final film winds up undermining its own existence – what is the point of re-making something that evidently works so much better with traditional hand-drawn animation?

The Story: If you’ve seen the original 1994 film, there’ll be no surprises here. We are introduced to the adorable Simba (voiced by JD McCrary as a cub, before ageing into Donald Glover), the little prince who will one day lead his pride as a king. But even the best-laid succession plans crumble into dust when Simba’s sinister uncle, Scar (Chiwetel Ejiofor), plots against reigning king Mufasa (James Earl Jones). After tragedy strikes, Simba is forced to build a new life for himself – even though his true destiny lies far closer to home.

The Good: There’s no denying that the cutting-edge technology used to bring Simba’s pridelands to life is really quite remarkable. It’s photo-real in a way that probably wasn’t possible even a few years ago, and you’d be forgiven for thinking you’ve stumbled onto a sublimely shot nature documentary if you watch this film without the sound on. That’s not advisable, however, as director Jon Favreau clearly put some effort into engineering a new soundscape for the film. Elton John’s score is beautifully refreshed, mixed with a fresh energy and rhythm that work very well (even though the new songs – Beyonce’s Spirit and John’s end-credits number, Never Too Late – aren’t particularly memorable). The new voice cast is mostly very appealing. Glover never quite manages to slip under Simba’s skin, but Ejiofor deliciously unearths several shades of evil as Scar, and John Oliver is a hoot as fluttery hornbill advisor Zazu.

The Not-So-Good: The biggest problem with this film is that its best feature also happens to be its worst. This new kind of photo-real animation looks great, but it somehow manages to appear life-like while lacking any actual life. As it turns out, hyper-realistic lions can’t emote or talk like humans, so it borders on the ridiculous (and unnerving) to have them do just that. Moments that broke your heart in the original 1994 film might make you giggle 25 years later. It’s unfortunate, too, that Favreau’s film hews so closely to its predecessor’s script and story beats. With that crucial spark of life – or soul, as it were – already missing from these lions, you’ll only become more aware of the weaknesses that have always been a part of Simba’s rather patchy emotional trajectory. (Chiefly: does he actually learn anything? Guilt and grief alone do not a character’s growth make.)

Comic Relief: Favreau’s film almost slavishly follows its predecessor, except it allows comedians Billy Eichner and Seth Rogen a little room to riff as Timon (meerkat) and Pumbaa (warthog) respectively. Together, they provide some of the film’s funniest – as well as its most annoying – moments. In one instance, they make an inspired reference to another classic Disney movie that’s a surefire crowd-pleaser, even though its cheeky meta-textuality adds to the film’s tonal woes.

Recommended? Not particularly. This Lion King is more misfire than masterpiece.

 

Epic (2013)

Would you have watched a movie called The Leaf Men and the Brave Good Bugs? That’s the title of the children’s novel by William Joyce upon which Blue Sky Studios’ Epic is based – the same William Joyce who provided the inspiration for Dreamworks Animation’s delightful Rise Of The Guardians. In making its leap from page to screen, Epic gained a less cumbersome (if not quite as descriptive) title and absolutely stunning visuals. Story-wise, however, Epic feels a little hollow, its bursts of colour and imagination only just managing to gloss over its mostly predictable story.

Mary Katherine (M.K.) (Seyfried) arrives at the home of her estranged scientist father Professor Bomba (Sudeikis), hoping to form a relationship with the man whose unshakeable belief in the existence of little people has isolated him completely. But this is no psycho-drama about love triumphing over delusion: turns out Bomba was right all along. In the forest surrounding his home dwell the Leafmen, the brave guards of Queen Tara (Knowles) who protect the forces of good and life against the villainous Mandrake (Waltz) and his seekers of evil and destruction.

Epic starts off slowly. Until M.K. gets (literally) cut down to size, the film is a curiously stilted, laugh-free experience – almost as if it’s listlessly going through the paces while setting up its characters. Epic only really sparks to life after M.K. discovers the integral part she has to play in the battle that’s about to rage across the woodlands. The story as a whole remains largely predictable, but her encounters with steadfast Leafman Ronin (Farrell), his recalcitrant protégé Nod (Hutcherson) and comedy slugs Mub (Aziz Ansari) and Grub (Chris O’Dowd) yield some comic and even emotional highs.

What makes Epic unmissable is its truly glorious animation and design. The film teems with colour, life and exquisite detail, from the literally floral inspiration for Queen Tara’s flowing gown, through to the plant-based armour of the Leafmen. The sheer amount of passion and imagination that’s gone into creating this tiny universe is almost palpable, and shines through every character and frame of the film.

The trouble with Epic is its failure to deliver on the promise in its title. Surely one’s experience of said film should be, well, pretty epic. Wedge’s meticulously-crafted movie definitely checks that box in terms of how marvellous it is to look at. Plot-wise, however, it leaves a little something to be desired: it’s very good and perfectly sweet, boasting perhaps the best fruit fly gag you’ll ever see in a feature film. But sadly, it falls somewhat short of epic.

Basically: Not so much epic as predictable – albeit perfectly charming.

Dreamgirls (2006)

Dreamgirls is that rare beast – a movie that garnered so much buzz and so many critical plaudits throughout the awards season that it seemed a lock for an Oscar nomination for Best Picture… and was shut out completely. Well, having seen this movie for myself, I can say that, whatever grievous wrongs the Academy might have committed this and any other year, it did not do wrong in omitting this movie from the shortlist. A mediocre movie musical featuring a pedestrian plot (albeit with some nicely-wrought dramatic moments), disappointingly uncatchy music and frustratingly unimaginative choreography, the one thing this movie really has going for it is a superlative cast, all of whom are willing to give their roles everything they’ve got and more besides. Small wonder that Dreamgirls is racking up not just nominations, but also several acting wins. But that’s where comparisons to awards juggernaut Chicago should end – aside from a few truly show-stopping numbers, this movie would probably have closed on Broadway in a matter of weeks.

Although Dreamworks has recently taken out full-page ads stressing that Dreamgirls is a fictional movie not meant to refer to legendary record label Motown, it’s clear that the plot, protagonists, twists et al, were collectively inspired by (if not based on!) the Diana-Ross-led Supremes and their meteoric rise to fame. Beyoncé Knowles plays Diana… I mean, Deena Jones, who, alongside Lorell Robinson (Anika Noni Rose), are the considerably less talented back-up singers of the Dreamettes. But even though Deena might not have half the voice or natural talent of lead singer Effie White (Jennifer Hudson), she doesn’t lack in ambition. Before long, self-absorbed, strop-prone diva Effie finds herself increasingly shunted aside – the prettier, slimmer Deena is given top billing when the trio lands its first proper recording contract, and Effie finds that a hunger for fame and recognition means that even her songwriter brother C.C. (Keith Robinson) won’t stand by her. Soon Deena is even stealing from Effie the affections of the Dreamettes’ manically obsessive, controlling manager Curtis Taylor Jr (Jamie Foxx). As Effie spirals into obscurity, Deena takes the renamed Dreams to the height of fame… only to realise that the price she paid to stay in Curtis’ grooming stable and his bed wasn’t only Effie’s unhappiness, but her own.

Surprising for a movie so clearly paying tribute to the Motown era of great soul music, Dreamgirls‘ music is annoyingly pedestrian. Rather than churning out smoky, heartful songs, we’re treated to one flashy, beltin’ show tune after another, many of which are mixed in fairly haphazardly. Of course, some work better in the context of the film than others – usually when they form part of the repertoire of the musical stars featured within the movie. For example, when James ‘Thunder’ Early (a riveting Eddie Murphy), a big star on the series of travelling roadshows that constituted the black entertainment scene in the run-up to the 1960s’ tumult of race-based clashes, belts his hits (Fake Your Way To The Top or I Want You, Baby), it feels real and an organic part of the movie. A stand-out is Effie’s wonderful serenading of Curtis in much happier times with the intoxicating charm of Love You I Do… only to be told by Curtis that the song just won’t work as a first single.

Where writer/director Bill Condon falters is in incorporating the songs that are supposed to tell or further the characters’ own stories within the movie. Unlike in Chicago, into which script Condon wove a thoroughly effective mechanism to explain many of the musical set-pieces (they were the fanciful imaginings of fancifully deluded main character Roxie), these numbers stand out for being awkwardly-staged and a bit strange. Now bear in mind that I am a huge fan of old-school MGM musicals, so have never had a problem per se with characters occasionally bursting into song for no apparent reason other than that they can only express what they feel or want to say through the power of music. But it just doesn’t seem to work in the case of Dreamgirls, possibly because its plot is so hackneyed and feels like a overblown soap opera onto which some music is desperately grafted to hide its threadbare plot… rather than a musical for which songs genuinely advance plot and character development. To have them lapse into melodramatic semi-arias with poor lyrics is another – the excruciating Family being a case in point, when C.C., Curtis, Deena and Lorell try to sing Effie into submitting to their plan for her to play back-up to Deena’s star.

Much has been made of the movie’s exploration of race themes (particularly the deep-seated discrimination within the music industry that prevented a black singer from performing in public for white people, much less cross over to the nation’s pop charts) and its complex, real characters. Well, I’ll grant you the first – Dreamgirls does provide an incisive look at the vagaries of an industry built on profit and subsequently founded on racial bias. One of the nicest touches in the film is the contrast drawn between the remaking of Jimmy Early’s fledging soul smash Cadillac Car into a whitebread, horrifically sunny and blonde track; and Deena’s subsequent, inadvertent pilfering of Effie’s soulful comeback single One Night Only and muddying it with disco beats to make it to the top of the charts.

But the characters, particularly the ones that receive top billing, are annoyingly under-developed. Curtis is a one-note villain, whose initial charming facade too quickly gives way to his true, avaricious self… after which we never see even a hint of the man he must have been to win both Effie and Deena’s hearts. Very frustratingly, Deena, too, is not served well by the script – despite being the ostensible star, one can’t help but feel that she spends much of the film lingering on the sidelines. This is probably because Deena just isn’t all that interesting a character, her sheep-like acquiescence to Curtis’ control and subsequent attempts to break free all cookie-cutter and remarkably bland. About the only time Deena leaps off the screen is when Knowles really cuts loose with Listen, a howl right from her character’s gut as she pleads for Curtis to see in her something beyond a cipher, a vehicle to the top.

The far more interesting characters in the mix are self-absorbed, perpetually angry Effie and boozed-up fading star Jimmy. Small wonder both Murphy and Hudson are sweeping awards for their performances from just about every corner. Breaking out of his relentless gurning mode, Murphy proves he has dramatic chops and quite the impressive singing voice. He presents us with Jimmy in his ebullient prime, and Jimmy in his tragic decline (as he drops his pants onstage after delivering the wacky, impromptu Jimmy’s Rap), and is thoroughly convincing in both guises. Hudson, meanwhile, is the very definition of breakout star. Stealing every scene she’s in, she delivers her songs with such brassy confidence and sheer vocal prowess (it is clear that she is the best singer on display here, certainly miles better than Knowles – which is a nice point of irony, if you like) that it’s hard not to be blown away by her. Certainly every review will mention her jaw-dropping rendition of And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going – to me, not one of the songs that fit well within the movie because of its out-of-place staginess, but which Hudson really does sing the hell out of and more. She’s so good that it’s easy to forget all about Knowles, who is unfortunately forced to be rather colourless for much of the movie, until she gets to rip into Listen.

Dreamgirls is, for the most part, an entertaining watch. But, for all its attempts at weighty socio-drama, it remains a feather-light confection with far less compelling music than you feel its cast deserves.