Tag Archives: Animation

2000s, 2001, A+, Adventure, Animation, Comedy, Fantasy, Grade, Musical, Past, Review, review-movie, romance, Year

Film Review: Shrek – 2001

July 17, 2022 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Andrew Adamson Vicky Jenson
Principal Cast	Mike Myers as Shrek Eddie Murphy as Donkey Cameron Diaz as Princess Fiona John Lithgow as Lord Farquaad
Release Date	2001
Language(s)	English
Running Time	90 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

Composers Harry Gregson-Williams and John Powell’s ethereal and aptly titled track “Fairytale” plays as the Dreamworks logo begins, encapsulating the film before the narrative proper even starts. A leather-bound book with no discernible title sits in the middle of the frame; the book opens and a voice begins to narrate an archetypal tale of a hero rescuing a princess.

The tale comes to an abrupt close as the narrator incredulously laughs at the story’s insinuation of a true love being able to overcome insurmountable odds, and his green hand subsequently rips the page out to use as a piece of toilet paper; the fairytale becomes the literal butt of the joke.

Accordingly, when the narrator, an ogre named Shrek (Mike Myers), bursts out of his outhouse, the film’s musical stylings switch from Gregson-William and Powell’s “Fairytale” to “All Star” by Smash Mouth. In sharp contrast to the diegetic song-and-dance routine characteristic of the Disney Renaissance films (The Little Mermaid, The Lion King, Mulan) preceding Shrek’s release, this non-diegetic infusion of pop serves as the perfect punch-line to Shrek’s earlier subversive gesture and announces the film’s deconstructive tendencies: Songs play in the backdrop but Shrek refuses to give in to their allure and sing along. He’s not your typical protagonist.

The ogre then brushes aside a coat of mud, unearthing the film’s title card, before the film cuts to a montage of Shrek’s everyday activities: he bathes in mud, brushes his teeth with slug slime, and creates warning signs to keep people off of his property. A match cut from his sign reveals that the townspeople, like Shrek, have constructed signs about an ogre, but theirs is a bounty poster which promises a reward for bringing such a creature in. The people begin a trek into the swamp to confront the ogre menace.

The musical montage comes to a close as the townsfolk finally enter the swamp. But Shrek appears behind them and is lit in such a way as to accentuate his monstrous features. He calmly explains the terrors of ogres to the people before engaging in a theatrical display demonstrating the same. The camera hones in on the intensity of his ostentatious roar with three separate shots, each of which cuts closer to his face. The use of heightened lighting, canted angles, and horrific close-ups intentionally evokes the stylings of a monster film in the vein Frankenstein (the set-up also involves a horde with torches surrounding a green monster which adds to the feeling), but we know it’s performative from Shrek’s side as he calmly tells his audience to depart after said presentation, prompting the latter group’s chaotic escape.

A poster flies away from one of them during said departure, and Shrek notices that it’s an ad promising financial compensation for fairytale creatures; it’s not just ogres that the people seem to be after. Another match-cut transports us from the crudely drawn fantasy creature on the poster to the creature proper locked up in a carriage. The vehicle moves off-screen and reveals a deluge of imprisoned fairytale creatures being carted off and sold to a host of soldiers. If the farcical nature of the film wasn’t clear enough, the representation of the fairytale genre via the creatures making up its milieu literally being partitioned, exchanged for scraps of wealth, and shipped away in cells emphatically hammers home the film’s interests.

A woman walks up to the front of the exchange line and tries to trade her talking donkey (Eddie Murphy). The guard asks for a demonstration of the creature’s talents before accepting him, but Donkey, who up to this moment had been desperately conversing with the woman in an attempt to avert said exchange, refuses to modify his performance and compromise his position. But when fairy dust is sprinkled on him inadvertently causing him to fly, he begins to boast of his prodigious abilities as he begins to mount a grand escape. The moment intentionally evokes Dumbo, leading us to believe that Donkey will fly out with the aid of his newfound powers.

Then he falls back to the ground because this is Shrek and magic, like other genre accoutrements, refuses to work as expected. Instead of flying off, Donkey makes a mad dash through a forest and bumps into Shrek. Caught between the soldiers and the ogre, Donkey picks the latter and hides behind him. The armed group approaches Shrek, clearly scared of the green behemoth. The group’s leader reveals that the group is under orders to round up and relocate all fairytale creatures by dictates of a Lord Farquaad (John Lithgow).

We cut to Shrek who asks which army will be in charge of his resettlement at which point we cut back to the leader completely alone and his army long gone. Like the townspeople, the soldiers are too frightened by ogre tales and refuse to deal with the creatures.

But the honest Donkey refuses to buy into the mythos, demonstrating a considerable apathy to Shrek’s horrific performance. He tries to break into a song about friendship, an attempt at introducing the film’s pop stylings in traditional diegetic fashion, but is quickly interrupted by Shrek who refuses to allow a musical moment to happen. In an attempt to terminate any possible relationship between the two, Shrek tries to pull out the same theatrics from his previous acts, glowering down on Donkey from below and growling at him with a monstrous bellow. Yet, Donkey responds with friendship instead of fear and asks for Shrek’s name – a first for the ogre – in an attempt to get to know one another.

The fairytale creatures surround Shrek’s swamp.

However, Donkey’s goodwill only gets him so much: Shrek allows him to stay on the patio for the night but offers no other commodities, going so far as to eat a nice dinner by himself while Donkey sits outside. But Shrek’s peace is quickly interrupted as the fairytale creatures being rounded from earlier begin to spring up from every corner of his house before ousting him out of the abode; the camera pulls up to reveal Shrek surrounded by the entirety of the fairytale crowd imprisoned earlier in the day.

Desperate to disperse the crowd, Shrek learns that their arrival on his property is due to the orders of Farquaad; much to his chagrin, it turns out his swamp has been designated the fairytale dumping ground. Shrek vows to go to Farquaad and evict the crowd from his property. He operates under the assumption that his actions will be decried but the crowd around him, desperate to go back to where they came, cheer for his proclamation and crown him as their champion – a hero fighting for fairytales.

He takes Donkey along as a guide and sets off. Once again, Donkey tries to break into song; the moment is the perfect point where older animated musical fantasies would narrate the journey via song. But he’s stopped by Shrek once more and is only allowed to hum. The ogre might be forced to play hero for the fairytale crowd, but he refuses to go along with the musical script expected.

Meanwhile, the aforementioned Farquaad proceeds to an interrogation. His journey to the interrogation room is cross-cut against the room being set up with a glass of milk of all things; intrigue begins to build. We see his feet, his gloves, and his visage framed from angles which emphasize their size and prominence; there’s a weight to his authority and an importance granted to his frame. An over-the-shoulder shots maintains the illusion of this power for a moment, but as Farquaad moves to the center of the frame, his short stature is revealed and his menacing authority is ripped from underneath his feet. When he finally enters the room and the subject of his punishment is revealed to be none other the Gingerbread Man (the milk qua torture begins to makes sense), the upending is complete: Farquaad feels like a huge joke.

The absurd interrogation is quickly brought to a close when Farquaad’s forces bring in a magical mirror similar to the one in Sleeping Beauty. Farquaad, seeking to stroke his ego, asks the mirror to confirm the greatness of his kingdom but is promptly rebuked: Farquaad, without a queen by his side, is no king and must remedy the situation to achieve his goals.

Consequently, the mirror breaks into a date-show presentation of three princess candidates for Farquaad to choose between for marriage: Cinderalla, Snow White, and Fiona (Cameron Diaz). It’s telling that his choice of bride-to-be is Fiona, the only one of the group who has no former Disney connection. After making his choice, “Escape” by Rupert Holmes plays from the mirror as part of its presentation. This diegetic use of music, a direct contrast to the non-diegetic use of “Smash Mouth” earlier during Shrek’s introduction, signifies Farquaad’s desire: the royal ruler wants to be the legendary hero of old, rescuing his princess partner from a seemingly insurmountable situation and buys into general narrative trappings, musical evocations included.

In this manner, the mirror serves as an analog to the book that Shrek was reading at the film’s start; both mediums present aspects of the mythical hero narrative prevent in the genre and have the respective hero characters orient themselves in regards to the same. Shrek decries the validity of the tales while Farquaad seems to enmesh himself within their fabric.

The musical cues represent proximity to the dictates of the genre which explains Shrek’s reluctance and non-diegetic relationship with music and Farquaad’s embrace of a diegetic relationship with it. This is why the latter’s town, Duloc, is crafted to look like a fictional version of DisneyWorld complete with music playing at all times. Shrek and Donkey hear elevator music in the empty townscape and are then greeted by a song-and-dance number by a mechanical information apparatus; despite his reluctance, Shrek is forced to tango with the musical intrusion and what comes with it.

Farquaad tells the soldiers to kill Shrek.

Shrek and Farquaad finally confront one another in a stadium where the latter is hosting trials to select a champion, a hero by proxy capable of engaging in the heroic quest necessary to retrieve Fiona. With an ogre present, Farquaad decides that any one person capable of besting such a monstrosity will be more than capable enough of slaying a dragon, retrieving Fiona, and returning back; he gives the order to attack.

But Shrek absolutely decimates every hero candidate all while “Bad Reputation” plays in the background. At first glance the lyrics suggest that Shrek doesn’t care about improving his social standing or currying anyone’s favor, but his theatrical acquiescence towards the crowd and their demands for performative battle in the vein of wrestling suggests the total opposite: it’s not that he doesn’t care about improving as much as he’s never received an opportunity to change him image.

And it’s this opportunity that Farquaad presents Shrek upon the latter’s absolute victory in battle – a chance to play the part of hero. However, Shrek’s emphatic response to the crowd is short-lived and his disavowal of the archetype’s bells and whistles rushes back in; instead of accepting the quest to embrace the hero lying beneath, Shrek only agrees to Farquaad’s request under the guarantee that his swamp will be returned free of any and all fairytale influence. Thus, the duo sets off on their unheroic, selfishly-motivated hero’s journey.

This disjunction marks the parameters by which the film operates as it swings from lampooning genre conventions to embracing them in a deconstructive fashion. The “traditional” approach popularized by Disney where the protagonist goes overcomes their internal struggles, becomes heroic, and overcome their foes is represented by classical musical choices and the presence of diegetic music numbers, whereas the “non-traditional” approach the film (and Shrek) more explicitly embrace is characterized by the modern song choices and non-diegetic musical montage. Both of these approaches vie for supremacy as the narrative progresses, trading places and functions as Shrek reckons with what his tale truly entails.

The juxtaposition of the film’s more classic sounding score against the pop enthusiasm of its soundtrack exposes Shrek’s disavowal of singing while rendering him a subject of its power. In this sense, just like the social forces within the film which force Shrek to embrace a heroic role, the traditional scoring cues reveal the underlying mood and importance of the moment. In contrast, the needle-drop moments reveal Shrek’s internal machinations, bubbling under the surface, waiting to be unearthed. Diegetic and non-diegetic sound choices represent the shifting tides of this identarian battle as Shrek struggles to reconcile the villainous ogre persona he’s cultivated due to social pressures and the seemingly contradictory heroic persona driving his decisions. By taking advantage of the possibilities generated through strategic interplay of score and soundtrack Shrek is able to achieve a balance between the fantastical and the everyday.

Thus, the sound design ostensibly works to entertain and keep the viewer engaged with its more modern sensibilities all while subtly cueing us in to where Shrek is on the journey to find and embrace the nature of his desires. Like Wes Craven’s Scream, Shrek (to a lesser extent) reveals the underlying logic of its genre, drawing attention to the mechanisms at play, but never undermines them in such a manner to make them ineffective, allowing the film the chance to capitalize on those tropes later on. This combined with both the everyday feel of both the overt soundscape and Shrek’s characterization as vulgar yet endearing gives the fantasy tale a down-to-earth feeling, making it increasingly accessible in spite of its subversive gestures.

Unfortunately, like Scream, Shrek’s success and ingenuity revitalized its genre with lesser emulations (including some sequels) which mimic its appearance but never achieve the same emotional resonance. Films copy the crude humor, expressive animation, genre lampooning, modern songs, and celebrity voice-over acting – all elements of Shrek which are memorable and work – but forgets that these characteristics are utilized in service of the overarching ideas of the film, namely that of expanding the possibilities inherent in fairytales and the narratives the genre can offer up.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Revolutionary at the time and hard to beat even now, Shrek‘s deconstruction of the Disney Renaissance era films provides a breath of fresh air for animated fantasy musicals while retaining the magic that genre lovers expect. The pop stylings and crude humor go hand-in-hand with an evocative, ogre-filled hero’s journey.
Rating	10/10
Grade	A+

Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
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1990s, 1998, Action, Adventure, Animation, Comedy, Fantasy, Grade, Past, Review, review-movie, S

Film Review: Mulan – 1998

May 25, 2022 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Tony Bancroft Barry Cook
Principal Cast	Ming-Na Wen as Fa Mulan Eddie Murphy as Mushu BD Wong as Captain Shang Miguel Ferrer as Shan Yu
Release Date	1998
Language(s)	English
Running Time	87 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

Chinese ink work of the Great Wall of China…

An inked-out backdrop comes onto screen, evoking the distinctive feel of older Chinese drawings. The camera tracks over this backdrop and settles on a view of the Great Wall of China before the ink fades away to the wall proper.

A soldier on guard duty notices an incoming danger right as the Huns, led by Shan Yu, climb the walls and break into the country. The guard lights a large fire on his post and alerts the other guards, ensuring that the the capital knows of and can mount a response against the threat. But Shan Yu relishes the opportunity for battle, going so far as to burn a national flag to signify his challenge to the nation.

As the symbol on the flag burns, the symbol on the Emperor’s door opens; his counsel and him are immediately drafting their strategy. The Emperor decrees that one man must each family must be drafted to ensure the enemy is defeated. One of his generals pushes back and claims that his forces are more than capable of handling the threat but the Emperor refuses to back down, explaining that like a single grain of rice, a single man could tip the scale.

Meanwhile, a young woman, named Mulan gracefully picks up a single grain of rice while taking copious notes on her arm. She’s getting ready for some kind of procedural examination and is rushed for time. In one swift maneuver, she calls for her “brother”, the family’s dog, and ties feed and a treat on him to lead him into feeding her household’s livestock. The maneuver informs us not only of Mulan’s wit but also of her family’s lack of a son.

With her tasks “finished”, Mulan heads out for a meeting with a matchmaker – cue the film’s first musical number, “Honor to Us All”, a song which establishes the cultural idea that women can only bring honor to their families by becoming good wives. Immediately upon coming to the location, Mulan is stripped and washed, losing her unique identity in favor of a culturally approved one. As she’s fitted by her mother and an assistant, it’s clear that these expectations are literally pulling her in opposing directions. Cultural expectations shape familial values which propagate down to the individual which is why Mulan finds herself desperate to fit into the crowd, casting aside her subjectivity in favor or melding with her peers.

For a musical number, the song works as an ironic counterpoint to the narrative proper, establishing the sexist, contradictory roles that women are meant to operate in, while demonstrating the way cultural expectations permeate and shape the lived experiences of persons who don’t fit into presumed archetypes. The number ends with Mulan stumbling into the matchmaker’s abode and failing miserably. She can’t attain honor in this way and is cast aside – a poignant conclusion to a musical number that so strongly stresses that the only role available for women is the one she can’t possible do.

This seeming ineptitude weighs heavily on Mulan and as she gazes on her loving parents, parents who she can’t help but disappoint, she breaks into the film’s second song aptly titled “Reflection”; she walks around her home and looks back at her reflection, first in the water and then in the reflective surfaces of shrines, to find herself but can’t seem to reconcile what she is and what her family and by extension society want her to be. Her make-up is stripped off half her face before being fully removed, demonstrating this gap between the idealized and the real.

Mulan feels utterly alone in her struggle. The pink blossoms in her garden frame her isolation, trapping her in the frame. But her father intervenes and comes into her zone; the duo is framed within the flowers and the emptiness is transformed into a lovely connective moment. He reassures his daughter, pointing out that the late flower blooms most beautiful of all before then placing a flower-decorated clip into her hair to cement the connection; Mulan may not have found her way yet, but when she does, it will be glorious.

But the sound of drums announcing the presence of the Emperor’s men interrupts the moment of serenity; the enclosure generated by the flowers is broken apart by the Emperor’s conscription announcement. Mulan’s father is tasked to serve given his family’s lack of son and suddenly his family has to deal with his impending absence, and due to his fragile body, probable death. Mulan tries to push back, both in public and in private, but is admonished and lectured for her insolence; she should get to know her place in society like everyone else. Yet, the songs have already informed us that such a place does not exist for her.

Mulan looks at her reflection in a puddle.

Unable to come up with any solutions, she sits dejected under the statue of the Great Stone Dragon, her family’s guardian protector, and gazes down on her reflection in a puddle, struggling to figure out what to do. From where she sits, she notices the silhouettes of her parents; her father reaches over to her mother in tender embrace but the latter turns away and walks off leaving the former to blow out the candle and bring the night to a close – the impending war brings a great darkness to the family.

But Mulan refuses to let to let the light die and sets out to take her father’s place, lighting the lamps and offering a prayer for success before trading her flower headpiece for her father’s conscript orders and battle regalia. If no place exists for her, she’ll carve the path for herself . Her resolve is now reflected in her newfound blade which she promptly uses to cut her hair; now she can present as the man the army needs her to be.

Thus, the stage is set for a battle between two subversive forces, each trying to tackle the sociocultural paradigm which they find themselves situated within. Their respective acts of dishonor, Mulan’s military subterfuge and Shan Yu’s invasion, are both attempts at reforming the system. If Shan Yu succeeds in his invasion, he’ll be able to seize the honor for himself; usurping the Emperor means taking control of a major lynchpin behind the cultural forces which delineate what is permissible and what is not. Meanwhile, Mulan hopes to achieve honor by serving as her family’s proxy son, allowing her father to avoid death in battle while helping her homeland against hostile forces.

As both parties pursue their respective goals, the film is able to problematize a system where honor is defined by adherence to a norm over actions proper. Shan Yu’s gambit can only work because by taking over the Empire, he can set the dictates on what constitutes proper behavior: when culture flows downstream, the one who is in charge writes the rules. Mulan’s tactic on the other hand cuts to the heart of honor itself. Her actions in end of themselves feel honorable: the desire to protect one’s family should be commended. Yet, her skirting of prescribed gender roles somehow negates her actions, making them dishonorable; the disjunction between this reality and expectation demonstrates the necessity of an internal value realignment for any change to occur.

The musical numbers define the parameters of this battlefield. The first two songs set the ground-rules: the songs provide points by which to evaluate cultural values while ironically revealing the basis of said values. There are also only four total songs and their removal from the film and then sudden reincorporation helps to highlight the transformation of values mentioned within them. When the music stops, the serious nature of the lightweight lyrics is brought to head and the disjunction in values is made apparent. When the music eventually comes back, the shift in values has alleviates the situation and demonstrates a reconciliation. The fact that the songs are catchy is almost secondary which is testament to their quality; they both satisfy the musical sensibilities one would expect from Disney while organically extending the narrative and its themes.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Mulan’s story of a woman turned warrior looking to upend a backwards militant system is as entertaining as it is thematically rich. The use of musical cues to extend thematic and narrative movements not only helps the story moving at a quick pace but also cue the audience in to what truly matters.
Rating	10/10
Grade	A+

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2020s, 2021, A+, Animation, Anime, Comedy, Drama, Grade, Past, Review, review-movie, Year

Film Review: Pompo the Cinephile – 2021

April 28, 2022 The Critic 1 Comment

Director(s)	Takayuki Hirao
Principal Cast	Hiroya Shimizu as Gene Rinka Ôtani as Natalie Konomi Kohara as Pompo Akio Ootsuka as Martin
Release Date	2021
Language(s)	Japanese
Running Time	90 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.

In Nyallywood (aka Hollywood), the producer who reigns supreme is Pompo, an exuberant young woman with a flair for dramatic entrances and an eye for nabbing the best talent to surround her; her B-movies are a thing of legend and accrue rewards and adulation all around. Her assistant, Gene, in shocking comparison to Pompo, is a tired looking, unenergetic husk whose only saving grace seems to be his intensive love of cinema. Far from just being part of his job, Gene uses cinema as his primary frame for interacting with the world at large around him, spending his free time poring over copious notes he’s taken regarding the production process or watching and absorbing films at breakneck pace.

Consequently, even in his day-to-day outside of the studio, he finds himself framing the world as a director would. While travelling to an routine casting session, he notices a young woman running across the street. As she playfully jumps past a puddle, his pupil transforms into a camera lens, showing us how the seemingly small moment becomes something cinematic; time slows down and his brain starts doing post-production (color grading) to the moment of jubilation, applying colors and filters to the everyday moment thereby rendering it cinematic. A simple jump – a split moment – becomes frozen in time and becomes something greater than it is.

When he finally makes it to the audition area, he runs past the girl once again; this time her face is covered with a miasma of despair – a sharp contrast to before. As the two cross one another’s paths, discordant jump cuts are used to create a stutter effect- time breaks as the two seemingly unrelated persons enter one another’s space. It becomes clear that their paths are meant to cross, even though Pompo informs Gene that the young woman, Natalie, was rejected from the studio’s current film due to an inability to act.

But inability in the moment does not entail incapacity in general, and Pompo decides to spring a surprise on Gene: she offers him the chance to serve as director for her new script, a non-B effort titled Maister. The script – a story of an elderly hardened man learning how to embrace the world via a chance encounter with a young, passionate woman – immediately captivates Gene who finds himself completely enamored with the characters in spite of the generic trappings of the narrative. To his surprise, Pompo reveals that the part of the heroine is to be played by none other than Natalie. Even though the aspiring ingenue’s test performance lacked, a certain aura she possessed captivated Pompo to the point of writing the role in this script explicitly for her; like Gene, Pompo can’t help but take the inspiration from the everyday and transform it into something cinematic.

Thus, Gene is set to direct his first feature film. Suddenly, the never-ending series of notes he’s taken on sets up till now become a template for him to traverse down the path to becoming a full-fledged director. However what opposes him is not a direct antagonist or series of enemies to be defeated but the process of creation itself; getting shots to work in spite of production issues, keeping true to the vision of the script while heeding to cinematic limits, conveying key story beats without relying on excessive exposition, and finding a way to edit down the final product in spite of a wealth of gorgeous footage become the obstacles that Gene and his crew find themselves tackling.

By structuring the film proper around the mechanics of the film-making process, director Takayuki Hirao is able to get the viewer to directly consider each and every choice made. There’s a direct focus on the nature of what makes a good film: decisions related to acting, shot composition (ex: wide shots vs close-ups), and editing are brought up directly by the characters as they discuss how to overcome the various hurdles they encounter. By having the characters walk the audience through the logistics of their decision-making, the film is able to get viewers to subjectively tap into and become involved with the film in a dialogue. Our attention is drawn to the nature of cinematic technique and its intended purpose, so as the film starts to become more “overtly” stylized, it becomes astoundingly clear that even the most seemingly minute decision is being done to engender a certain feeling.

Match cuts (both within Pompo and between Pompo and Maister ), jump cuts, rewinding/fast-forwarding footage within the film proper to explain parallel character decisions, using reflective surfaces in the background to juxtapose characters’ thoughts versus their actions, and moving the camera back from supposed establishing shots to reveal said scenes are nothing more than character perspectives or scenes being projected on the big screen reveal the liminal space between cinema and memory. Not since the works of Satoshi Kon (Millennium Actress, Perfect Blue) has an animated film so effectively tapped into the idea of cinema as a dream-machine; for the characters this dream is both literal – they want to produce and create films for audiences – but is also metaphorical as these same films are expressions of their innermost desires come to life, rendered on a canvas that promises infinite possibilities.

As Gene shoots Meister, he finds that his own life not only serves as a template for how he approaches the content but that the content then, almost as if in response, becomes a guiding force for him to evaluate and progress within his own life; life and art become two mutually reinforcing sides, generating a new creative order. While there are similar works like Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! or Shirobako that also navigate the process of creatives attempting to take their fanaticism to the level of art, what separates and elevates Pompo and its themes is the level of commitment at making the fictional work its about, Maister, as polished and entertaining as the film proper. Even though we’re only privy to brief snippets, the scenes chosen are all pivotal in how they reveal the underpinnings of the story proper while conveying a completely distinct tale that’s enthralling all on it’s own. It’s one thing to cheer on a character as they set out to pursue their dreams, but by making the painful, brutal costs and transcendent rewards of their efforts so transparent, Pompo is able to hammer its points home.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Pompo the Cinephile is a love letter to cinema and animation that emphatically demonstrates the ethereal powers of moving images. The film’s unabashed enthusiasm and wit makes it endlessly entertaining and endearing for anyone who’s ever “found” themselves in a work of art.
Rating	10/10
Grade	A+

Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .

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1950's, 1951, Adventure, Animation, Comedy, Fantasy, Grade, Past, Review, review-movie, S

Film Review: Alice in Wonderland – 1951

December 11, 2021 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Clyde Geronimi Wilfred Jackson Hamilton Luske
Principal Cast	Kathryn Beaumont as Alice Sterling Holloway as Cheshire Cat Ed Wynn as Mad Hatter Jerry Colonna as March Hare Richard Haydn as Caterpillar Verna Felton as Queen of Hearts
Release Date	1951
Language(s)	English
Running Time	75 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

Birds swim in the water and butterflies fly around.

The camera pans through a wonderous environment filled with different types of wildlife; butterflies flutter in the sky while birds swim in the waters. But the camera settles on a young woman who could care less about the beauty of nature and is far more focused on educating her sister, Alice, who sits up above on a tree branch. Alice is fully caught up in her own designs and doesn’t pay attention to her sister’s lecture.

Alice’s sister calls Alice to attention. The latter sits on a tree branch and makes a crown of flowers.

Instead, she makes a crown of flowers for her cat, Dinah, and places it upon Dinah’s head, crowning the pet as royalty of sorts. Dinah shakes the crown off and it lands on Alice’s sister’s head. Alice’s sister looks up and chastises Alice for not paying attention. Alice claims that the lessons are boring and would better suit her temperament if pictures accompanied the words. Her sister responds that there are a host of books without pictures in this world which sets Alice off into another tangent.

If this world contains such boring books, Alice surmises that her world, a world of wonder, would contain no such thing; only pictures would be allowed in books. Her sister calls the idea nonsensical, but far from being deterred by it, Alice seizes on the description and wholeheartedly embraces the moniker: “nonsense”. If the world of sense is so boring, then a world of nonsense has to be better.

Alice tells Dinah about a world of nonsense.

Enamored by the idea, Alice starts to describe to Dinah the way such a nonsense world would operate. Things would be what they are not and what they are not they would be. Alice says as much in a matter-of-fact manner, but if Dinah’s reaction is an indication, nothing she says coheres. Regardless, Alice fully commits to her worldview – a shift which is signified by the film’s breaking of the 180-degree rule as her orientation flips from facing left to facing right; she’s “entered” a new world.

This change in environment is reflected as Alice jumps off the tree branch and her sister is now nowhere to be seen. Alice doesn’t notice this disappearance and instead breaks out in song describing all the different ways her wonderland would operate. Eventually the song ends and Dinah and Alice find themselves at the edge of the brook. Alice creates a ripple on the reflection of her and Dinah; the reflected colors of the duo break apart and come back together, this time in the form of a anthropomorphized White Rabbit who’s running along muttering about how he’s “late” to something.

Dinah and Alice give the White Rabbit chase.

With her curiosity fully piqued, Alice gives chase to the White Rabbit, going so far as to venture down the same rabbit hole she sees him going down. While she crawls into the hole, she mentions to Dinah on how such a decision is unwise and foolish, but she refuses to heed her own advice and proceeds head on. Suddenly, the ground gives beneath her and she falls down into an abyss.

Alice is slightly illuminated by a lamp in the seemingly never-ending abyss.

As Alice falls down the seemingly endless pit, she notices a lamp and turns it on. Suddenly, the lights start to strobe from red to blue to purple and so on. She continues to float down and notices an series of oddities including a mirror which reflects her upside-down. She questions whether or not she’s entering a part of the world where people walk upside down before then seeing the White Rabbit running upside down. However, Alice realizes that the Rabbit isn’t upside down; she is. She changes her perspective and continues to give chase to the Rabbit, desperate to figure out what he’s running late to.

Unbeknownst to Alice, the environment she’s running into is none other than a land consonant with her aforementioned nonsensical machinations; she’s heading straight into a world where everything and everyone is “mad” and any attempt at making sense is doomed to fail. Thus begins Alice in Wonderland, the whimsical adaptation of Lewis Carroll’s audacious and nonsensical Alice ^[1] Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass books. Though the film doesn’t explore its ideas with the same nuances of its source material, the story beats and ideas it does play around with provide a fertile ground for directors Clyde Geronimi, Hamilton Luske, Wilfred Jackson to show their stuff in brilliant, surrealistic fashion.

The narrative is largely incoherent and functions more as journey through set-pieces than anything else. Alice enters a new location, encounters distinctive and personable denizens of Wonderland, engages with said inhabitants in their respective shenanigans, eats some food material which makes her larger or bigger, gets frustrated by said situation, and then leaves the location. Rinse and repeat.

While the overarching relationship between these situations and their respective characters is largely up to the viewer’s interpretation, the story does have a certain logic pervading through it: Alice begins to understand and respect the need for a rational syntax capable of organizing the world – a sense to wade through the nonsense. Her growth gives the narrative a feeling of momentum in spite of its haphazard jumping around allowing the the directors to focus on the random nature of the spectacle. There’s no need to explain why or how situations are happening so we’re allowed to experience the spectacle with a sense of youthful exuberance, becoming children in response to the wonders on display.

Characters transform. Environments open up into new ones. Denizens break into song/snippets, often times making direct references to the source material proper. There’s always something dynamic happening in the frame challenging your assumption on what could happen next.

Add in the iconic voice acting which makes each character leap off the screen and it becomes clear why Alice in Wonderland is so charming. It’s hard not to become mesmerized by the ever-evolving cascade of characters and situations. It may be nonsense, but that doesn’t make it any less moving.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Alice in Wonderland demonstrates the power of animation, presenting surreal sequences that demonstrate the creativity inherent to the medium. The nonsensical story, which moves from set-piece to set-piece, gives the directors’ multiple opportunities to just relish in sheer absurdity. There’s a sense of joy here that’s palpable, calling out to the whimsical child-like sense of wonder inside all of us.
Rating	10/10
Grade	S

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2020, 2020s, Action, Adventure, Animation, C+, Comedy, Family, Fantasy, Grade, Review, review-movie, Science Fiction, Year

Review: Sonic the Hedgehog

February 18, 2020 The Critic 1 Comment

Director(s)	Jeff Fowler
Principal Cast	Ben Schwartz as Sonic Jim Carrey as Dr. Robotnik James Marsden as Tom
Release Date	2020
Language(s)	English
Running Time	99 minutes

Ever since elementary school, I’ve been grinding out Sonic games from Sonic Adventure to Sonic Mania. I can still remember waking up early every Saturday morning to catch Sonic X on 4Kids. Hell, I even read the Archie comic series whenever I could find an issue around. I think you get the point. The fast blue blur has one of my favorite fictional characters, so you can imagine my reaction when the initial trailers for this movie dropped. I know the games haven’t been amazing as of late, but the titular character’s render felt like a final nail in the coffin. That’s why I was elated when Fowler tweeted that Sonic the Hedgehog (2020) was getting a makeover to keep the fan favorite character more in line with expectations . When I saw the redesign, I immediately got excited for the movie again, and I’m happy to say if you’re a Sonic fan or looking for a cute family movie, this movie should satisfy you.

The movie follows Sonic, an anthropomorphic hedgehog with the ability to run at supersonic speeds, who finds himself transported to the planet Earth after violent forces threaten him on his home planet. He comes over at a young age and has to grow up lonely, without guidance, but eager to have fun. The movie wastes no time with boring dialogue or senseless exposition. It’s a straight dive to action. Soon after this initial set-up, Sonic finds himself in trouble and has to partner up with local police officer, Tom, as they try to escape the government and Dr.Robotnik.

This movie does that Deadpool-style (and more recently Harley Quinn) breaking the fourth wall narration, with Sonic recounting his experiences or talking about what’s going on, but I don’t think it comes off as gimmicky in this movie. He’s a kid forced to talk to himself to stifle off the alienation he feels, so talking out loud makes sense as a coping mechanism. It helps that Ben Schwartz nails the quirky, adventurous, comical traits that Sonic is known for, so listening to him talk is always fun. His interactions with Tom are a lot of fun, even if they feel a bit too cookie cutter. The dialogue between the two is what you’d expect from a cute team-up adventure movie, but is competently acted by all sides so you can let yourself just enjoy the spectacle unfold.

Sonic’s antagonistic counterpart, Dr.Robotnik, is brought to life by Jim Carrey, who brings his crazy patented action energy and makes the crazy scientist even more over-the-top. I was shocked at how much I liked the Doctor, because the trailers made him seem like a joke, and while he is to an extent, there’s a whole lot of dangerous scientist underneath. Robotnik’s comical but deadly, and outside of a few small moments, totally feels like a man who could destroy the world in pursuit of his twisted scientific desires.

Though the movie doesn’t do anything to blow your mind, you can tell there was a lot of love that went into the project. Action scenes feature a litany of small callback moments to the games (spin dashes and homing attacks anyone?) – fans will be happy and newcomers won’t be distracted by their inclusion. They’re integrated so as to feel natural and not as a “Hey do you see this reference – we are very clever with putting this here,” that’s so commonplace in adaptations/sequels/reboots. It’s clear to watch action progress, so if you’re someone that hates visual clutter or messy CGI explosion scenes, don’t worry about this one. For the most part, the movie runs a tight ship in making sure you know what’s going on. Furthermore, the theme of not running away from your problems feels even more poignant in a movie about a hedgehog who runs super fast, and I think Sonic’s subsequent journey into discovering himself is done well.

My only big issue with the movie is that ending came off a bit too comical and wish that it was treated with more purpose/seriousness. In an otherwise solid movie, it feels sloppy. That being said, I did think the overall sentiment of the ending was sweet, so I can’t fault the movie for wanting to please the families that would inevitably come to see it as opposed to doing something more grounded.

Report Card

TLDR	Sonic the Hedgehog should satisfy any fan of the massive video game franchise or anyone looking for a fun family movie. The story doesn’t break the mold or push any boundaries, but is competent and does what it needs to do. The movie has a very similar feeling to Detective Pikachu. It’s cute, has fun callbacks to the series, is easy to digest by any audience, and you can definitely tell a lot of care and effort went into portraying the subject matter.
Rating	7.5/10
Grade	C+

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2010s, 2019, A, Animation, Anime, Drama, Family, Fantasy, Grade, Review, review-movie, Year

Review: Weathering with You

January 21, 2020 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Makoto Shinkai
Principal Cast	Kotaro Daigo as Hodaka Morishima Nana Mori as Hina Amano Shun Oguri as Keisuke Suga
Release Date	2019
Language(s)	Japanese
Running Time	112 minutes

I’ve always liked Shinkai’s work (5 Centimeters per Second, The Garden of Words) but I’ve never fallen in love with anything in the same as I did with Your Name.Like tons of other people around the world, I couldn’t stop gushing over the 2016 runaway hit. As such, I came into this movie with high expectations. I know ,I know, bad idea. Thankfully, Lady Luck was looking out and I got more than what I expected. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way the movie ended or been able to stop humming the main theme, so suffice to say I think it’s pretty good.

If you haven’t seen trailers- don’t. I think most trailers for this movie spoil too much and the experience will feel more magical if you go in “blind”. The story follows Hodaka, a high-school boy, who runs away to Tokyo and runs into Hina, a girl with the magical power to change the weather. Such an ability would be an amazing in the ordinary, but in this world where huge downpours and flooding are commonplace, a ray of sunshine can mean the world. The movie explores homelessness, climate change, and humanity’s spiritual connection with the environment with almost seamless execution while telling a fun fantastical romance.

I really like the post-apocalyptic/slow apocalyptic feeling the movie has. Hope in spite of the crushing weight of everything is something that I can relate to, especially in relation to the climate crisis we’re in that shows little hope of being reversed. Eventually, when events like mass flooding become more commonplace ,humanity is going to be forced to adapt or be eliminated. Can there still be hope and optimism in a world where everything is slowly being subsumed ,doomed to eventually disappear? Is a world like that tragic or can life still be happy in spite of it all? The story does a good job introducing these beats and developing them in ways that are bittersweet.(Mostly) Nothing feels unearned or easy.

The movie is gorgeous when it wants to be (so most of the time). There are scenes from the 3rd act that I don’t think I’ll be forgetting any time soon. Backgrounds look life-like and the rain is mesmerizing. The sheer power of nature comes through each and every frame. There are a few moments of CGI that feel abrupt and really took me out of the movie. The movie is just so beautiful that any incongruous element feels even more off putting than it would be normally. If you liked the soundtrack from Your Name, you’ll be pleased with what RADWIMPS has cooked up for this story.

My problems with the movie lie with the execution of certain sub-plots. The issue is most of the plot lines in the movie are executed almost impeccably. The moments and relations are grounded even though they’re mystical at the same time. Unfortunately, one of the more important plot threads for the third act falls short of the above. It’s not given the same sense of realism and feels more gimmicky. It’s not that big of an issue because thematically the thread is great. I just wish it didn’t come at the cost of the meticulous sense of consequence that had been building up till that point.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Weathering for You is a beautiful fantasy romance that delivers a thematically rich story with wonderful characters. There are only a few plot issues, but by the end of the movie you won’t be thinking about them. If you liked Your Name, check this out. If you’re looking for a meaningful tale about our relationship to the planet , I’d also recommend giving this a view.
Rating	9.3/10
Grade	A

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2010s, 2019, Adventure, Animation, C+, Comedy, Family, Fantasy, Grade, Musical, Review, review-movie, Year

Review: Frozen 2

November 22, 2019 The Critic 2 Comments

Director(s)	Chris Buck Jennifer Lee
Principal Cast	Kristen Bell as Anna Idina Menzel as Elsa Josh Gad as Olaf Jonathan Groff as Kristoff/Sven
Release Date	2019
Language(s)	English
Running Time	103 minutes

When I saw the first trailer for Frozen II drop I felt one part entranced by the visuals, one part curious on where the story could go, and two parts nervous that this movie would be a cash grab with no substance. Although Chris Buck and Jennifer Lee don’t reach the same heights as they did thematically, musically, or story wise in Frozen, there are still more than enough gorgeous and fun moments in their sequel to satisfy the fans and entertain kids.

The story picks up some time after the ending of the first movie and follows our makeshift family unit of Elsa, Anna , Olaf , Kristoff , and Sven. They’re domesticated and having fun, but Elsa has been hearing a call beckoning her to leave her homeland and find her true calling. If the story sounds weird that’s because it is. It feels lazily written and almost feels like a series of excuses meant to guide characters from one set piece to another. It’s frustrating because the movie is supposed to be dealing with Elsa and her powers and had a real potential to explore the lore in interesting and philosophical ways to help develop the themes from the previous movie. Instead, it focuses on hashing out these really basic character arcs that either feel like they were better resolved in the previous movie or they just feel out of place overall.

Thankfully, the set pieces in this movie are absolutely breath-taking. Elsa has a lot of amazing action moments that serve to demonstrate how mind-blowing her powers are. Even though I thought the plot was absurd, I was left stunned with how cool and gorgeous a lot of her moments ended up looking. The color palette is distinct and vibrant and makes these moments that much prettier. There are gorgeous autumn leaves and amazing snow effects. The water looks and feels alive and fluid. The lighting is immaculate and everything feels imbued with vitality. There are a few scenes where the background felt like it was actually straight ripped out from reality. It all comes together to create one of the most stunning movies I’ve ever seen. I already know I’m going to re-watch the movie to see some of these moments again. If nothing else, this movie knows how to look near perfect.

The music is also good, even though it doesn’t reach the heights of the first movie. The title song is incredible, however, and I loved how it was incorporated throughout the movie. Into the Unknown probably won’t get as many plays from me as Let It Go did, but it’s a great song and I know I won’t be able to get it out of my head for a bit. Menzel and Bell are also still great, and each of their characters had at least one musical solo scene that I enjoyed. This film more so than the last felt like it had a few too many songs. In particular, Kristoff’s song felt misplaced and actually ended up making me like his character less. I appreciate how funny the song is supposed to be and thought the editing and feel of it was great. However, it makes him feel like he’s less mature than we’re led to believe and also interrupts the action in an non-ideal way.

Thematically, the movie attempts to do cool things but just falls on its face. Certain ideas are explored on a surface level which is a shame because of how interesting they could have been. There’s a lot of discussion about growth, but we rarely get to see it explored because the characters don’t feel like they actually change that much. There’s also this really neat idea of water in relation to time that feels Taoist in nature but outside of a cool visuals and interesting thoughts never reaches the potentials of what it could have been.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Frozen II is gorgeous and breath taking, even if it feels like its lacking in substance. It never reaches the same heights of its predecessor, but is still entertaining and sure to give you some fun moments.Fans of the original should check this out, but be wary – the story leaves a lot to be desired and may be disappointing to some.
Rating	7.5/10
Grade	C+

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2010s, 2013, A, Adventure, Animation, Comedy, Family, Fantasy, Grade, Musical, Review, review-movie, Year

Review: Frozen

November 22, 2019 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Chris Buck Jennifer Lee
Principal Cast	Kristen Bell as Anna Idina Menzel as Elsa Josh Gad as Olaf Jonathan Groff as Kristoff/Sven Santino Fontana as Hans Alan Tudyk as Duke of Weselton
Release Date	2013
Language(s)	English
Running Time	102 minutes

So when this movie first came out, I was completely enamored by it. The visuals were gorgeous. I couldn’t stop singing the songs. I was absolutely into the Frozen craze. Given the news of Frozen 2, I thought it’d be fun to revisit the original – not only to get ready for the sequel but also to see if I really enjoyed the movie or was just caught up in the craze at the time. Happily, I can confirm it was the former. Chris Buck and Jennifer Lee’s story has all the markings of a musical classic and reminded me of the power of Disney magic.

The story follows the royal princesses of Arendelle , Anna and Elsaas they prepare and celebrate the latter’s coronation. However, everything goes wrong and it’s revealed to the kingdom that their newly anointed Queen has supernatural ice powers. Already, the basic premise of the plot has distinguished itself from so many other Disney movies. This time the “villian” is the Queen herself and because of that, the film gets to explore a lot of emotional ideas in beautiful ways.

The discourse on love and the extents of it is touching and gets explored in a lot of cute and emotionally satisfying ways. In particular, the relationship between Anna and Elsa is magnificent and serves as the emotional crux of most of the movie. Watching their interactions and growth is moving and there were genuinely moments that made me tear up. Bell and Menzel do a great job giving the sisters a real emotional depth to their dialogue that helped it hit emotional beats I didn’t expect.

Outside of them, Josh Gad is phenomenal as Olaf. The snowman is charming, funny, and a delight to watch. There are times where his character feels like he over explains some more emotional scenes that takes away from the subtlety of them. It’s not too annoying, but I feel like it made some of the more cathartic moments feel weaker. I enjoyed both of the male characters, Kristoff and Hans , and enjoyed how they served as foils for each other in meaningful ways. The only character I didn’t like that much was the Duke of Weselton. He feels too over the top and I wish he was more grounded. It would have made certain moments more believable and sinister, which is something I would personally have preferred. He’s not awful – I just see wasted potential.

The music is absolutely great and I love most of the tracks. I love how the songs are incorporated into the movie and how much emotional weight they bring. Obviously Let it Go is amazing, but there are just so many great tracks its hard to choose from. Even the more unnecessary songs (like the rock people one) was fun to listen to in the moment. I thought the musical scenes with Menzel and Bell were amazing. In particular, there’s a duet in the second act that’s absolutely mesmerizing from a thematic view but also sounds phenomenal. It’s dark, desperate, and emotionally complex. I absolutely had chills afterwards.

The animation is also gorgeous. The characters all look beautiful, but my favorite moments were when Elsa used her ice powers to fight. The action scene with her is probably my favorite moment in the entire movie. The camera and lighting make it all feel intense and the particle effects of her ice magic makes everything feel more visceral. I honestly forgot I was watching a musical for a few moments and let myself get absorbed into the intensity of the situation.

Honestly, my only major problem with the film is how absurd one plot element feels. I won’t spoil it, but literally two characters make a mention of how ridiculous this element is and no one does anything about it. It felt frustrating because obviously sensible individuals in this universe proved to understand the issue , but it just gets glossed over. Normally this wouldn’t be that big of an issue, but it serves as the main driver for a lot of the conflict in the third act so the issue feels even more apparent. I also think that there should have been more of a consequence for certain actions, but I’ll talk about that in the spoiler section.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Frozen is fun, funny, and bursting with personality. The songs are top notch and the animation is gorgeous. Outside of a few story issues and some missed opportunities, this tale of two sisters trying to find their place in the world and in each others lives is sure to leave you smiling along.
Rating	9.0/10
Grade	A

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Tag Archives: Animation

Film Review: Shrek – 2001

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Film Review: Mulan – 1998

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Film Review: Pompo the Cinephile – 2021

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Film Review: Alice in Wonderland – 1951

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Review: Sonic the Hedgehog

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Review: Weathering with You

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Review: Frozen 2

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Review: Frozen

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