The Jungle Book (2016)

Why Disney is remaking their animated features as live-action films is, quite honestly, beyond me. Last year I had a “Why does this exist?” reaction to Kenneth Branagh’s Cinderella, finding that it didn’t distinguish itself enough from the original. Now it’s Jon Favreau’s turn to adapt an animated film, The Jungle Book, and I have to say that the end result is much more successful for the tightrope act it performs between fidelity and innovation, to say nothing of the frankly fabulous special effects.

The Jungle Book introduces Neel Sethi as man-cub Mowgli, banished from his adopted wolf pack after his life is threatened by tiger Shere Khan (Idris Elba). With panther Bagheera (Ben Kingsley) at his side, Mowgli travels through the jungle in search of man’s village, encountering a menacing snake (Scarlett Johansson), gigantopithecus King Louie (Christopher Walken), and omnivorous bear Baloo (Bill Murray).

One of the real delights of Cinderella was getting to see Cate Blanchett chew the scenery as the wicked stepmother Lady Tremaine, and it’s as if Favreau decided to turn up the volume to eleven by selecting an all-star voice cast for his remake. The voiceover work is arguably the most compelling aspect of this Jungle Book; Elba is perfectly menacing as the mean-spirited tiger, and there’s something uncanny about recasting Kaa’s slithery speech for Johansson’s husky notes. And as much as I’ll always love Louis Prima and Phil Harris, in their respective roles Walken is sublime and Murray is freshly definitive.

Wisely, and strikingly, the film preserves many of the original songs from the 1967 cartoon, in a way that feels organic to the film. “The Bare Necessities” comes on the heels of Bill Murray’s recent Netflix Christmas special, which allowed the comic actor to flex his crooning muscles, and Murray’s natural charisma comes through clearly, even behind the CGI fur of Baloo. And let’s just say that there will be few moments of pure cinematic ecstasy this year to rival Walken’s recitation of “Ooby-doo, I wanna be like you-oo-oo.”

King Louie himself is a real treat, reimagined from a hepcat orangutan into a colossal ape straight out of Conrad’s Heart of Darkness (like Kipling, wrestling with the legacy of imperialism in India). Behind the computer effects we can discern some of Walken’s own distinctive tics, facial gestures and hand movements as well as his non-pareil intonations. And here’s where Jungle Book really mesmerizes me – like Kaa’s hypnotic eyes, I’m captivated by the fact that all the animals are animated by computers, not by motion capture or animating only the mouths. This is really remarkable stuff that the Disney animators have managed to cook up, and the fact that it never looks phony is perhaps justification enough for updating the 1967 animated film into live action.

Quietly, Favreau has become one to watch, demonstrating an incredible versatility between this, Iron Man, and Chef (and, though it wasn’t as well received, Cowboys & Aliens). Jungle Book proves my hypothesis that Chef was good for Favreau in the sense that it gave him time to find his own voice again after working on blockbuster corporate products for several years in a row. There is something of the same personal vision from Chef balanced by the unabashed wonder that ought to belong to a Disney picture.

News spread like man’s red flower that Jungle Book 2 had already been greenlit. I can only imagine where the narrative will go – unlike the original film, this Jungle Book doesn’t end with a coquettish water girl at man’s village – but more like this will be a welcome addition to the Disney canon.

The Jungle Book is rated PG for “some sequences of scary action and peril.” There are growly animals that chase and menace our protagonists, and scenes in which fire ravages the jungle might intimidate younger viewers.

Heads up, True Believers – we’ll continue to Make Yours Marvel this Wednesday with another installment in “The Grand Marvel Rewatch,” so check back then for 2015’s Ant-Man. Or subscribe above, and receive those missives right in your inbox. Nuff said!

Monday at the Movies - September 17, 2012

Welcome to Week Thirty-Five of “Monday at the Movies.”  Having wrapped our look at the “Alien Quadrilogy,” we unintentionally continue profiling the work of Sigourney Weaver this week with a franchise in which I’d honestly forgotten she appeared.  You all know the song; now try to get it out of your head.

Ghostbusters (1984) – First, Ivan Reitman’s comedy classic is not remembered for being a particularly great or innovative movie.  The film frequently compromises its own internal logic, there is a dearth of character development in nearly every face on the screen, and at times the film feels like a huckster trying to sell you a bridge.  What saves the film, though, redeems all those faults and makes Ghostbusters a hit – the infectious camaraderie and earnest enthusiasm of its protagonists.  It must have been a thrill seeing Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Harold Ramis, and Ernie Hudson standing side-by-side on the silver screen; added bonuses include Rick Moranis and Sigourney Weaver as unwitting pawns in a supernatural scheme.  The undisputed star is, of course, Murray, whose semi-improvisational style points out the film’s oddities with droll self-confidence (“We came, we saw, we kicked its ass!”), contrasting nicely with Aykroyd and Ramis’s gee-whiz enthusiasm for the premise.  Unfortunately, the script isn’t as tight as Ramis’s would be in the brilliant Groundhog Day a decade later; we don’t quite get a handle on the villain’s big scheme, and the characters are relatively flat.  But Ramis, co-writing with Aykroyd, does know the art of the non sequitur, as in the famous Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man sequence, and it gives the actors and actresses plenty of room to have fun.  This, I think, is the film’s greatest strength; it’s incredibly fun, which prevents the viewer from nitpicking too closely.  If cinema is escapism, Ghostbusters is a top-notch example of that tradition, warts and all.

Ghostbusters II (1989) – In the sequel, the flaws are more apparent, in part because the film opens itself too much to the negative effects on time.  Operating after a real-time gap, Ghostbusters II finds the paranormal exterminators out of a job and out of public favor; if it’s a commentary on box-office demand, it’s a depressing way to begin the film.  In fact, for a comedy, this is a pretty depressing film.  Murray, whose sardonic wit carried most of the first film, seems genuinely bored here, and Aykroyd’s sincerity seems like he’s trying too hard; Ramis doesn’t do much other than serve as a punchline for other characters to imply how creepy he is.  Weaver gets more to do here, presumably as a consequence of her coronation as resident sci-fi queen; her battle to save her son from a reincarnated Carpathian portrait is genuine and compelling, even if the foe isn’t.  The film also gives Moranis a larger role, which is a credit to any movie; his desire to be a “real” Ghostbuster is touching and clever all at once.  The soundtrack, though, is distractingly outdated, even more so than the original film’s ultra-80s theme tune.  I’m feeling surprisingly down on this movie, which catches me off-guard because I loved it so much as a child (I even had the coloring book, of all things).  And it’s not to say that this is a bad movie; it’s probably as intrinsically good as the original.  But what happens in Ghostbusters II is that the cracks show more clearly so that a “just good” movie never quite transcends beyond that level.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week for an exciting new feature in the realm of The Cinema King – stay tuned!

Groundhog Day (1993)

And now for something completely different - a light-hearted comedy (with strong philosophical overtones) that restored my faith in Harold Ramis and reminded me how much I love Bill Murray.

Groundhog Day, if it's not already, ought to be widely regarded as a modern American classic both for its aesthetic merits and its scholarly potential. Murray stars as weatherman Phil Connors, assigned to cover the appearance of groundhog Punxsutawney Phil on February 2. After completing his report, Phil finds himself trapped in a time loop; no matter what he does, he wakes up each morning on February 2, forced to relive the day over and over and over again, trapped in his least favorite town in America. From drunken disorderly conduct to petty larceny to pure gluttony, Phil soon discovers that his cloud has a silver lining - a Christmas Carol-esque opportunity to turn his life around and win the affection of pretty producer Rita (Andie MacDowell).

There's little question that Bill Murray is funny, and there's even less interrogation of the claim that Groundhog Day is among his best work. In a way, Phil Connors is the iconic Bill Murray role - obnoxiously self-assured, dripping with dry humor, and mildly misanthropic (Dr. Venkman of Ghostbusters is cut from the same cloth). So it's a pitch-perfect performance that Murray turns in here, bringing his trademark ennui and disinterested delivery to a character that so succinctly states what "the Bill Murray character" is. But there's a touch more at stake than just comedic timing and wry smirks; Phil's descent into depression when he realizes the futility of progress in his own personal hell is among some of the finer cinematic portrayals of despondency, and it's a credit to Murray that he can do drama as well as comedy - within the same picture, to boot.

The other performers are fine in their parts, though it's unquestionably Murray's movie. MacDowell is a strong foil for Murray, compassionate and optimistic in the face of Phil's sardonic nature. As cameraman/sidekick, Chris Elliott isn't distracting, which makes me forget why I'm not a big fan of his (though not entirely; he still owes the world for Cabin Boy). But perhaps the strongest supporting performance - groundhog aside - comes from top-caliber character actor Stephen Tobolowsky; fans of Glee will recognize him as ousted show choir director Sandy Ryerson, but it's here as "Needlenose" Ned Ryerson that most fans came to love him (I'd always liked him, but it took his "Tobolowsky Files" podcast for that affection to be solidified). Ned Ryerson is a scene-stealer in all the best ways, such that his (re)appearance(s) are among the highlights of Phil's day; just "watch out for that first step - it's a dooooozy!"

But the script is smart beyond just being clever. It's somewhat easy to write a punchline, to give a talented actor like Murray a one-liner he can use to zing another character, but to come up with a script as intelligent as Groundhog Day is a doozy, and so major kudos go to Ramis and Danny Rubin for an intellectually stimulating screenplay that transcends the obvious material and delves into psychologically and academically compelling material. What would such an experience do to a person - an egocentrist, in particular? Perhaps the best exploration of this concept comes in a key diner scene, in which Phil offers that he might be a god - not the God, of course, but one of them, one who's "just been around so long that he knows everything." Bordering on blasphemy, the film deftly navigates the issue by making it about Phil, not Phil's claim. And without distracting us with the cause of Phil's eternity on Feb. 2 (it's never revealed, nor even alluded to), we can focus wholly on matters of character and, to an interesting extent, destiny. But the film never gets bogged down in its own philosophical foundations, remaining abundantly entertaining and laugh-out-loud.

All this Groundhog Day accomplishes with imperturbability, unflinchingly cool and eminently amusing without becoming stale on repeat viewings (honestly, I've got to be past 20 on "times I've seen this movie").

Groundhog Day is fairly tame, rated PG "for some thematic elements," a description that does its best to obfuscate what's objectionable about this movie - basically, recklessness and a few suicides that are heavily implied but which occur off-screen (the most fantastical transpires on-screen, with a eyes-widening explosion).

Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009)

Forgive me for having never seen a Wes Anderson movie before Fantastic Mr. Fox, but I think I get the gist. I appreciate Fantastic Mr. Fox for what it is, but I think I get a sense of how fast some of Anderson's themes would get old. As it stands, Fantastic Mr. Fox is a "small doses" film and does a fine job as such.

I love Roald Dahl, almost as much as I love Batman, so I needed to see this movie - especially considering that Matilda is one of my all-time favorite book-to-movie projects. I'm also a big fan of George Clooney, who voices the aforementioned Mr. Fox, an animal version of Danny Ocean off on the biggest heist of his life - robbing local farmers Boggis, Bunce, and Bean (the latter of which is voiced by Michael Gambon) against the wishes of his reform-minded wife Felicity (Meryl Streep).

I had a little difficulty with the voice cast in this film, mostly because they're SO recognizable; Clooney and Streep have unmatchable (and, if a YouTube search is any proof, inimitable) voices, so it becomes problematic for me to see their voices coming from things that don't resemble them. Similarly, when I listen to Bill Murray, I don't instantly think "badger," but apparently Wes Anderson did. Fortunately this jarring effect is only temporary, and by the end of the film it all feels better.

I like what Anderson & Co. did in terms of expanding the story from Dahl's original book. Here, Anderson's version really imbues each character with an arc and a sense of purpose, and it does so without the audience feeling strongarmed into sympathizing with these creatures. Particularly the Foxes' son Ash (Jason Schwartzman) has a compelling storyline in which he struggles to fit in amid the competition provided by his cousin Kristofferson (Eric Chase Anderson). It's the kind of storyline that could have felt forced or even overplayed, but Fantastic Mr. Fox pulls it off smoothly.

A lot of the film's success is due to its runtime - slightly more than 80 minutes. Short and sweet, Fantastic Mr. Fox doesn't have time to run out of steam. Instead, the focus is on the plot and on the characterization. However, I'm not eager to see more of Anderson's films after this one; themes of alienation, problematic family dynamics, and individuality seem like they'd be overplayed if given more than 80 minutes of consideration. So while I'm happy with Fantastic Mr. Fox - indeed, surprisingly so, since I hadn't expected to enjoy it - I think I'll take Wes Anderson in small doses.
Courtesy of the MPAA, Fantastic Mr. Fox is rated PG "for action, smoking, and slang humor." All of that is just silly business. They do, however, substitute the word "cuss" for almost every swear word imaginable in this film, so think about that when you give the DVD to the kiddies.