soymilk Reviews

Snoopy: The Musical (1988 TV Movie)

It just about works

[6/10 · 1 March 2006]

Having never seen the award-winning stage musical from which this particular special was derived, I'm probably not the best person to comment upon how much justice it does to its source (I do know, however, that they had to cut around two hours worth of material down to 50 minutes, so it probably feels rather rushed in comparison). In terms of just how much justice it does to Charles Schulz's delightful creation as a whole…well, it's something of a mixed bag. The whole thing its undeniably sweet and so full of colour and energy that it's damned near impossible to dislike, but in capturing the charm and enigma and sets 'Peanuts' apart from your average family-friendly cartoon it's only partially successful. Unlike most of the TV specials, it lacks a coherent, overriding storyline, consisting instead of several all-singing, all-dancing vignettes that, while frequently enjoyable on their own, fail to make up a satisfying whole. And while a fair serving of the trademark downbeat humour has survived, perhaps most evident in the scene where Charlie Brown (falsely) believes that the Little Red-Haired Girl has slipped a note into his pocket, it's largely substituted for a range of happy, upbeat tunes and lyrics about what a wonderful place the world can be, making it just a tad more sugary than most adult fans may be able to stand. It doesn't help matters that, when most of the child characters perform their numbers, they have an unfortunate tendency to sing off-key.

But heck, you can slap Snoopy and Charlie Brown's likeness upon almost anything, and chances are I'll warm to it. It would probably be irrelevant to complain about this special's 'bonus feature' that, instead of his usual cat/hyena yowl, Snoopy gets proper vocal representation this time round (after all, that was exactly how it was in the original comic trip). I'm not really sure just how well the voice actually matches the character, but the fact remains that he's easily the most agreeable singer of the cast, with his solo performances being the most effective. 'The Great Writer' and 'the Big Bow Wow' are fun, catchy tunes, and the final number 'Believe in You', even though it entails those pesky kid-singers, is perfectly pleasant, as is Linus's melody about the Great Pumpkin. Whatever else you can say about them, the songs here definitely haven't aged quite as prominently as those of another musically-orientated special, 'It's Flashbeagle, Charlie Brown'.

In short, it's charming enough, but personally I much prefer the regular 'Peanuts' specials, in which you get a substantial narrative coupled with lots of melancholic exchanges, and where Snoopy doesn't need a twenty-something human voice to convey what's on his mind.

Madagascar (2005)

Visually stylish, repulsively stylised

[4/10 · 12 August 2005]

It's hard to say just which demographic group this exceedingly charmless film is meant to appeal to exactly – too childish and witless to find much favour with the adult crowd who snapped up 'Toy Story', 'Shrek' and 'the Incredibles' so readily, while crammed with far too many in-jokes and cultural references which the majority of under-10s probably aren't going to understand, 'Madagascar' comes off instead as a half-baked ploy to appease both target audiences in a way that only caused the two of them to cancel each other out. Not even the vivid visual gloss and likable animation can disguise the fact that this is an inferior product on both counts. There isn't a plot beyond the premise, the story never develops into anything more than a rabble of mildly diverting sketches, and only two of the major characters (which include a big-headed lion, an energetic zebra, a neurotic giraffe and a female hippo with no especially outstanding personality traits – she's just there to be the token female in this otherwise male-dominated affair) actually do anything to justify their presence in the long run. It opens, fuddles around for 80-odd minutes, and then ends just as abruptly as it began, in what easily scores as one of the weakest and most outright inconclusive closings I've ever come across (in the split seconds between the film stopping and the end-credits starting, I could have sworn that the theatre's projector had blacked out). In the end, it doesn't amount to a great deal more than a colourful, sharply-animated shaggy dog story – easy on the vision, but rambling and inconsequential, and full-on proof as to why Dreamworks, as they stand, haven't a chance of stealing Pixar's crown. They may have gotten a head start when 'Shrek' thrashed 'Monsters Inc' at the Oscars in 2002, but it didn't take long before their routine started waning, and if something as limp and lightweight as 'Madagascar' is the best answer they have to the breath-taking 'Incredibles', then surely no one's laughing any more.

In the typical Dreamworks animation mould, the thing that marred 'Shrek 2' slightly for a handful of viewers, and had hordes of critics groaning about 'Shark Tale', this is a viciously, recklessly, 100% artificial potboiler in every single element – the soundtrack that pumps with popular, upbeat tunes at every turning, the incessant pop culture references, the endless, desperate-to-be-trendy bursts of contemporary slang, and last, but by no means least irritating, the tiresomely non-sequiter TV and movie spoofs, most of which have nothing useful to add in the way of story, character or humour, and are chiefly there for the sake of being there (the Twilight Zone, Chariots of Fire, Planet of the Apes – well, it's like Patty and Selma once said in an episode of 'the Simpsons': "the easiest way to be popular is to leech off the popularity of others."). Things which make it extremely difficult to warm to whatever slim pickings of heart and appeal you might find lurking underneath all the twaddle, in the tissue-thin storyline which sees Alex the lion and Marty the zebra enjoying a close friendship whilst in the comfy captivity of the Central Park Zoo, but finding their rapport tested when they escape into the wild with a couple of nondescript neighbours, and Alex's carnivorous instincts begin to awaken. Outwardly, that's actually pretty dramatic stuff, and it certainly had potential, but 'Madagascar' hasn't the gumption to flesh it out into anything particularly innovative or daring, let alone convince us to care how things will turn out for our 'heroes' either way. There are a few amusing moments to be had from a subplot involving a foursome of psychotic penguins, but very little that they didn't already show you in the trailers. The highbrow monkeys and cry-baby mouse lemur are funny enough, I suppose, but definitely not worth the cost of admission on their own.

All in all, this is a pretty poor film, and without doubt one of the weakest 3D animated features yet to have seen the light of day. So, it can only add insult to injury that whoever assembled this lovely-looking misfire seemingly knew nothing about the real-life island of Madagascar itself, or the many weird and wonderful creatures that inhabit it. I'm hardly a certified expert on the subject myself, of course, but I have seen enough nature documentaries and flicked through enough wildlife magazines in my time to know that it's spelt "fossa", not "foosa", and that, sadly, those guys aren't nearly as abundant (or expendable) as this movie would happily have you believe, while in the lemur world (particularly that of the ring-tailed variety) it's the females who wear the trousers around the place (yeah, King Lemur, my foot!). The most galling slip-up of them all, however, would be it's depiction of Madagascar itself as a completely uninhabited island, much in the style of 'Lord of the Flies'. Nope, there are actually people living there, you know (and I bet they're all thrilled to pieces by this film). Little I couldn't forgive, of course, if only the enjoyment value had been a lot higher. Unfortunately, it's about as entertaining as it is educational. Whether it's an informative source you're looking for to assist you with a geographical essay you have to write, or a well-made, agreeable movie to engage you for an hour and a half, you'd be better off looking elsewhere. Try harder, Dreamworks - it takes more than just visual eye candy and a few familiar voices to make this kind of thing pull its weight.

Grade: C-

Birdy (1984)

Beautiful movie (shame about the ending)

[8/10 · 11 August 2005]

VERY minor spoilers. I'm not going to be a meanie and give away the actual details of that notorious ending here, so anyone still yet to give this one-of-a-kind movie their time should be able to read on without fear of having the story ruined (besides, you'd really to have to see it for yourself, in context with everything else, to know exactly what I mean, anyhow), but I will comment just how remarkably close it does veer towards marring this otherwise wonderful, if not completely perfect, film. Since seeing it for the first time last summer and loving nearly every minute of it, right up until those final awkward moments took their toll, I've learnt that there are some viewers who admire 'Birdy' for, much like its pivotal character, just how doggedly unconventional it manages to be, in everything including the ending, but personally I still have trouble seeing it as anything more than a painfully abrupt fade-out which fails to satisfy, and which leaves us with too much else on our minds to feel the benefit of the light-hearted point it tries to make. At worst, it's a blushing admission that in choosing to stray from the original source material, they ran out of ideas of their own and decided to cut their losses then and there. At best, judging from the comments of others, it's a work of unexpected genius. At the end of the day, I suppose it's up to you alone to decide.

But, with that one major reservation now out of the way, I can move swiftly onto the praise, and for 99.9% of the time, 'Birdy' really is a captivating, unfairly forgotten gem. I was first drawn to it having picked up the soundtrack in a discount CD outlet, noticing that it had been provided by none other than one of my all-time favourite musicians, the incredible Peter Gabriel. Taking it home and giving it a spin, and, as always with this man, finding myself elevated to a whole other musical dimension, it wasn't long before I was rushing back into the outside world to rent the movie itself. And, having seen it, I was impressed – if they'd searched for a million years they couldn't have found a more fitting picture for him to exercise his audio talents upon, assembling, in typical Peter Gabriel fashion, an evocative, haunting and spiritual score, all virtues which 'Birdy' itself wears proudly on its sleeve.

The music certainly compliments it nicely, but it's the strong lead performances from Matthew Modine and Nicholas Cage that truly make this drama, and transfer the characters so vividly and convincingly from William Wharton's original novel (which I decided to tackle not too long after seeing the film). On the whole, I'd say they did a respectable job in translating the non-linear structure of the novel to film, alternating between the contrasting viewpoints of the two young protagonists in accordance to whichever stage of their lives it deals with – the cynical, down-to-earth Alfonso, having returned from combat in Vietnam with severe physical scarring, contemplates the present situation, in which he's been called upon to get through to an old friend and fellow veteran, who's suffered psychological scarring from his own encounters and since withdrawn into his own seemingly inaccessible world. This friend's outlook, meanwhile, is gradually revealed through a series of flashbacks accounting their youthful past growing up together, along with his own lifelong fascination with birds and their ability to fly, a deeply-rooted passion which earned him the nickname 'Birdy'. The world, as seen from his perspective, is positively mesmerising in some scenes, while sharply poignant in others, but rest assured, there's never anything crazy about it. And this is where the true binding magic of this picture lies. Modine's portrayal and Parker's direction make it clearer to us than to any of the characters that Birdy is merely an exceptional kid who's never really been much taken with the conventions and restrictions that come with being a human being, drawn instead to the boundless and enigmatic world of his feathered companions. By contrasting the drabness of the former and the beauty of the latter, Parker ensures that Birdy's stances never seem anything but understandable, and allows us to feel a connection with him right from the beginning. Even before we've learnt the entire scope of his story, in those scenes reflecting more Alfonso's viewpoint, when Birdy resides in an institution, and does outwardly appear to have lost himself, we never doubt him. Parker has also taken full advantage of the story now being visual, employing some truly striking aesthetic imagery along the way. The non-dialogue window scenes in particular, in which Birdy gazes out at the birds flying freely in the world outside, are shot with so much beauty and emotion, they're each worth more than a million words.

At the opposite side of the story, Cage also does wonders with Alfonso. In the novel he was drawn up as a much more self-assured, mean-spirited character you only really began to feel sympathy for toward the end. Here, Cage breathes such sympathetic life into the man that it's almost impossible not to feel for him from the moment you lay eyes on him. There's just something about that bandage-clad face that only really speaks to you when it's right out in front of you.

There may be a sparse number of scenes that lean more toward the dull and slow-moving side, and which keep it from being perhaps as consistently engaging as it should, but with plenty of others to entrance you, shock you, amuse you and move you, moments that will summon a real lump in your throat and an ending which, depending on how you look at it, will either greatly awe or greatly frustrate you, 'Birdy' may not be an instant classic, but it's a viewing experience unlike any other, and undoubtedly a must-see.

Grade: A-

The Hudsucker Proxy (1994)

100% Brilliance

[10/10 · 23 July 2005]

This absolutely wonderful yet vastly overlooked film remains one of the finest instalments in the Coen Brothers cannon to this day. Part affectionate homage to the fast-talking movies of the 1940s (most notably 'His Girl Friday'), part playful satire on the cutthroat worlds of business and media, and a winning, immensely enjoyable metropolitan fantasy all-over, I fell in love with every single aspect of 'the Hudsucker Proxy' when I first came across it, and subsequent viewings have only left me even more convinced that I'll never be able to say enough good things about it. Certainly, there isn't a bad word to be said – with its ingenious set-up, lovable hero, ravishing scenery and breath-taking score, this is a buried treasure trove of a production, well-worth digging out. The film-making siblings are as keen here as ever to demonstrate their knack for fusing the macabre with the mirthful, with an impressive 44-storey suicide leap forming one of the earliest scenes (and it is expertly done, so as to feel sad, horrific and, thanks to the reactions from various onlookers, hysterical all at once) but on the whole I'd say this rates as the most whimsical, even magical, of their efforts thus far, playing almost like their personalised take on the films of Frank Capra. It's warped, wacky and unorthodox, with their trademark Coen anarchy written all over it, but with genuine warmth and feel-goodness always nuzzling at the centre. The blend is so perfect, and with so much on offer for everyone, I have no idea why this movie has had so much trouble, since its neglected release, achieving the mass appeal it was built for.

Far removed from the disquieting grittiness of 'Fargo' and 'Blood Simple' (the two Coen flicks which, incidentally, would be right up there with this one in my Top 3 list of all their output, so you know my tastes are assorted), not only is it brilliantly comical and laugh-out-loud hilarious on a consistent level, it also tells a charming and irresistible underdog tale in its most basic and effective form. Tim Robbins is at his topmost endearing (very, very high indeed) as Norville Barnes, the naive young business school graduate who makes up for what he lacks in canniness with bright ideas and guileless innocence. Arriving in New York City in the late 1950s with hopes of making it big, only to wind up toiling at the nadir of the occupational food chain in the mail rooms of the aggressive Hudsucker Industries, thanks to sheer fluke in circumstance he finds himself promoted to the top of the company in a matter of hours. There, he gets the chance to live out his personal dream of bringing his revolutionary design for a new children's toy, the 'Hula Hoop' (or, as it could just have easily been branded, the 'Wacky Circumference', amongst other possible monikers) to the world, unaware that it's all just part of a devious stock-holder ploy, and that he's little more than a puppet, or indeed, 'proxy', in the hands of the scheming Paul Newman.

At the bare bones, it's the familiar saga of a good-natured man wrestling, if unwittingly, with impersonal corporate greed, the odds stacked firmly to his detriment, but leave it up to the Coens to make that feel refreshing and resourceful. The abundance of clever dialogue and snazzy scenes, in the form of everything from a dream sequence to a vintage news bulletin, to a brief commentary provided on one encounter from a pair of jaded onlookers, keeps things ticking along very smoothly, while Carter Burwell's musical score is a scintillating audio treat, splendidly structured with the on-screen action. The results of this are truly uproarious (try getting through that Hula Hoop production sequence with an entirely straight expression on your face – I swear, it can't be done). But what really brings this movie to life, and one of the key reasons why I've no hesitations to award it full marks, is the sheer pull and appeal of its cast of characters. For all their exaggerated, embellished quirkiness, each and every one of them comes complete with the essential bona fide qualities needed to engage us in the story – the unsuspecting, genial Norville is a charming, fascinating character you can readily warm to, his sneaky but sensitive romantic interest, journalist Amy Archer (a wonderfully dynamic Jennifer Jason Leigh), likewise, while Sidney J. Mussburger is appropriately menacing as well as amusing. They're also complimented by an unforgettable collection of support, including Moses the Clock Guy (who provides intermittent narration and addresses both the audience and the characters alike, a technique which would later be repeated in 'the Big Lebowski'), Buzz the staggeringly voluble elevator boy, a creepy, wordless janitor and, last but not least, a tee-totalling beatnik bartender played by the phenomenal Steve Buscemi (a small role, but worth a mention), all of whom have their own distinctive flavour and sparkle to add to the picture, each helping to make it that extra bit more terrific.

To sum up, 'the Hudsucker Proxy' is a comic masterpiece, a laugh-riot that touches, dazzles and delights, and without doubt one of the sharpest movies to come out of the 1990s. And that's something which the general indifference of the movie-going public at the time can never take away from it. Of course, it wasn't the only film starring Tim Robbins to be denied the recognition it sorely deserved on its initial release in 1994 – fortunately for 'the Shawshank Redemption', success may have taken its time but it got there eventually. I only hope that the same can be said of 'the Hudsucker Proxy' one day. Lord knows, it deserves it.

Grade: A+

Two Brothers (2004)

Four legs good, two legs average

[7/10 · 20 July 2005]

If you're out to demonstrate that animals are better than people (better scene-stealers, anyhow) then by all means, make 'Two Brothers' your prize exhibit. Just as the 'Incredible Journey' showed us decades beforehand, animals, when given the right elbow room, are simply fantastic when it comes to film. They have the power to transform minimal, routine story lines (two tiger cub siblings are divided from their mother, removed from the wild by separate parties of high-handed humans, grow up in different captive grounds and finally find themselves pitted against each other in the battle ring…okay, I'm sure we all know where this one's going, sweet and warm-hearted as it is – it's essentially little more than a variation on the story of Androcles and the lion, in which both protagonists, on this occasion, are creatures of the wilderness) into gripping, engaging and dazzling delights, simply by being animals acting in their animal ways. Kumal and Sangha, the two big cats here, are certainly no exception to the custom. They're expressive, appealing and a pleasure to watch in whatever stage of their growth – whether as wide-eyed, adorable cubs, or beautiful, majestic adults, they bring a real magic to the story that keeps it afloat and mesmerising, and if, like me, you're an avid animal lover, the odds are you'll fall completely in love with these beasts and everything they stand for. It's refreshing to know, certainly, that not every animal-orientated flick aimed at the family market nowadays has to rely on smarmy human voice-overs and overdone special effects (of all the movies spawned by that phenomenon over the past decade or so, only 'Babe', their much-loved pioneer, had the charm or the subtlety to pull it off convincingly) to communicate the thoughts and feelings of its four-legged cast. 'Two Brothers' has enough trust in these tigers provide all that with their physical mannerisms alone, and there's something about their muted composure that makes them seem all the more innocent and vulnerable as a result. As far as the animals go, it's neither too complex for kids or too childish for adults. All ages are free to enjoy.

A lot less interesting are the endless human characters who continually step in to shape the structure of the story but, with their lacklustre dialogue and minimal development, totally pale when it comes to screen presence. And this is where all age groups, young and old alike, are liable to find boredom. Unlike 2003's 'Seabiscuit', which took enough interest in the various people surrounding its titular equine to even go as far as allowing them to steal the spotlight from him, the humans never amount to much more here than a parade of one-dimensional caricatures (the insensitive circus trainers, the cosmopolitan child, the ignorant game hunter, and so forth). Guy Pearce has easily bagged himself the most substantial role of the lot, being the only one who actually finds himself in something of a dilemma over his position – growing unexpectedly attached to Kumal, the particular cub he personally abducted, when his most highly-commended talent lies in his flair for hunting out and destroying the creatures – which in turn does bring in a little emotional pay-off. It's a notch more interesting, at any rate, than Sangha's simultaneous story, concerning his bonding with the young son of a local governor (which, on its own, doesn't have a huge deal to distinguish it from any number of your generic 'boy and his – insert species here – story'). Though, to be fair, the scenes between the tigers themselves aren't completely spotless – what probably should have ranked as the most powerful and gut-wrenching sequence in the film, that is, the showdown in the arena, in practice actually feels very rushed and docile.

Still, the good intentions in this one always shine and, in spite of the problems mentioned above (or possibly in some small way because of) the central message, that the true spirit of nature has the potential to always prevail above humanity's short-sighted efforts to curb and control it, is still nicely delivered. And, in addition to the lovable critters and beautiful scenery, it has Stephen Warbeck's enthralling score to do it justice; three factors which all combine to produce a wonderful viewing experience when left to their own devices. The half-hearted humans and their token character arcs, which insist on barging in and disrupting this, ensure that 'Two Brothers' comes nowhere close to being a masterpiece, but it's a perfectly satisfactory piece of family entertainment that's not afraid to wear its heart upon its sleeve. Worth a look if you're an animal enthusiast, or just in need of a good old-fashioned, straightforward romp.

Grade: B+

Here Comes Garfield (1982 TV Short)

So You Better Look Out

[8/10 · 17 July 2005]

This, the first in a steady line of entertaining Garfield specials, came about before the flabby tabby had completely found his footing in the character design department, so if the animation standard occasionally dips into crude or off-model waters (goodness – was Odie's neck really ever that spindly?), there's your answer. Slightly more vexing is a minor plot-hole that occurs around the final third simply to move things to a tear-jerking climax in which Garfield is forced to re-examine a few of his attitudes (exactly how long does an animal have to be in this particular pound before the possibility of being 'removed' starts looming over them? Odie hasn't even been there for a day, and already the other animals are predicting that he'll be next to go.). As wickedly superior as Garfield's scripting tends to be in comparison to a lot of your typical animated family fare, there are a small number of details which you'd be better off not thinking too diligently about in this one. Sit back instead and enjoy it for what it is: a simple, breezy and surprisingly touching little escapade, one which ranks as a sure-fire classic in the field of comic-strip TV spin-offs. Here, Garfield finds it in his lethargic paws to rescue Odie from ill-kismet in the local pound, having landed him in there after a series of pranks on the disgruntled old man next door.

With hindsight, I have to laugh at just how much this basic 24-minute cartoon managed to get my heart racing when I rented the video as a considerably younger viewer. Back then, the notion that Garfield might choose not to save Odie at all (as he considers for a brief while) just horrified me, not to mention the heartbreaking scene where the two of them spend what could well be their last few moments together. Really, the story is as safe and foreseeable as the next piece of family viewing, and when I recently got my hands on the DVD and gave it a re-visit, I wasn't too surprised that it had lost the power to have me dangling on the edge of my seat. What it still refused to give up doing, however, was to move me just as much as it did before. In its perfectly contented simplicity, 'Here Comes Garfield' goes for the most tried and trusted way of giving the human heart-strings a good tugging – matching a lachrymose tune with an ingenuous flash-back at just the right moment – and succeeds hands down. Sure, I'm fully aware that I'm a total softie, and it doesn't take much to have me snivelling, but really, if you're not in the slightest bit moved by the sequence in question, you'd have to be at least three times more cynical than Garfield himself, the King of Sardonic (and even he gets dewy-eyed at one point in this special).

On the lighter side, 'Here Comes Garfield' is also packed with many an amusing moment, continuing the tradition laid out by 'Lady and the Tramp' to have impounded animals spouting prison clichés (and each one of them has an amusing story to tell about how they came to be in the pound – me, I like Rocky's myself). Top it all off with Lorenzo Music's magnificent voice-work, in what would later immortalise him as our leading cat's vocals, and the usual selection of catchy easy-listening tunes, and you have compulsory viewing for every Garfield fan. A bit simplistic, perhaps, but then we all need a bit of light-hearted entertainment every now and then to keep those inner kids of ours happy.

Grade: A-

Natural Born Killers (1994)

An awesome movie...in theory

[6/10 · 11 July 2005]

I'd been hearing mixed things about 'Natural Born Killers' over the years. Either it was an awe-inspiring, bracing social satire that deftly explores the relationship between real-life violence and the juicy spin put on it by the media, or just about the most amoral, unbearable, mind-numbingly brutal exercise in senseless killing ever applied to film reel. Needless to say, it turned out to be one of those movies that didn't quite live up to either side of its press.

On the one hand, Oliver Stone has certainly crafted an extremely well-made and visually arresting piece of film-making – a mind-bending montage of black and white camera work, animation, wildlife photography, freeze frame slow motion and outré imagery that comes lunging straight at you, and has you helplessly dissolving in this ferocious joy ride of a movie. And his eye for media complexion is equally a sharp one, lampooning everything from newscasts to sitcoms, and creating many an unforgettable moment in the process (not to mention landing a devilishly effective cameo for Rodney Dangerfield). Superficially, it all packs quite a nerve-jangling punch. Only when you start rooting around for the real purpose underneath all this sensation is the true extent of its genius called into question. Let's bear in mind that it is, after all, a lavish exploitation of media violence, out to demonstrate how the media exploits, and inadvertently glamorises, violence for the sake of sensation…and this, it would seem, is where the line between its admirers and its attackers is usually drawn. Call it a work of pure ironic genius or the most shameless hypocrisy of the 20th Century - either way, Stone approaches it with an exceedingly heavy-hand, and the moral undertones are never developed quite strongly enough to atone for just how disturbing and unpleasant this rampage can become at times (the scene where the young couple of killers on the run hold a teenage hostage gagged and bound in their hotel room, for example, is utterly nightmarish – but while Stone never glamorises these actions exactly, he doesn't really do a great deal to condemn them either).

The morals themselves are rather mixed and muddled – the major aim is supposedly to reveal how society is, in some way or other, completely to blame for the crime that imperils it. And yet, Mickey's finest moment, in the context of the movie anyway, comes through proudly declaring that his homicidal impulses are entirely innate and he shouldn't be forced to curb them (is the title intended as ironic or isn't it? Who could tell from how this movie goes...). Above all, it fails to turn either Mickey or Mallory into likable, sympathetic characters we can genuinely root for, and thus blunders head-first in its objective mission to have us side with the serial killers. After all, would that not have proved its very point, that the media, even in the form of this flick we're currently watching, has the power to desensitise us to violence? Instead, Stone launches his attack from the opposite end, by making everyone who opposes Mickey and Mallory into domineering monsters in their own right, and seemingly justifying Mickey's claim that everybody else in the world, with one stereotypical exception, has done something they deserve to die for. The later scenes in particular seem determined to prove that the murderous protagonists are actually fighting a perfectly righteous cause, by heeding their in-built urges and, in the process, turn the film into a self-consuming moral mess, one that's lost track of exactly what it was it originally set out to say. As I said, we do get caught up in the movie, but thanks mainly to the artificial touches – that it is, the visuals and the soundtrack, which are mesmerising, but not enough to veil just how repulsive the endless acts of brutality really are, or keep us from wondering why Stone isn't doing more revile them. By the time the movie starts looking smugly down on us for our part in (or so it assumes) kicking back and enjoying the story, we're far too dazed and worn out to care.

In the end, I guess the only whole-hearted way to enjoy 'Natural Born Killers' would be to detach your mind beforehand and leave the entertainment value to wash you over, which, strangely enough, is exactly the viewpoint it's supposed to be countering. It was a wildly ambitious project, and to some degree I admire Stone's headstrongness for undertaking it in the first place. Sadly, the results of his labours is, in this case, a technically impressive misfire and, whatever the disputes that went on between them over this movie, the long and the short of it is that this isn't the most flattering example to feature either Oliver Stone or Quentin Tarantino's (two otherwise fine screenwriters/directors) name in the credits. Like most rides gone out of control, it's hugely exhilarating, but hugely nauseating too.

Grade: B-

Garfield Goes Hollywood (1987 TV Short)

Following that yellow brick road

[8/10 · 10 July 2005]

Having missed out on this particular TV instalment as an eager kid at the height of my Garfield obsession in the 1980s, and still being an avid admirer of the sardonic ginger tabby cat even today, I was thrilled at the chance to finally catch up with it, along with a couple of the other best-loved specials, on its recent DVD release. And, putting it to the back of my mind that FOX had probably only granted it the light of digital day as a tie-in with the then just-out live action feature, I had a lot of fun with 'Garfield goes Hollywood', the one Garfield special which, from what I've seen, comes the closest to harbouring the spirit of the top-notch series, 'Garfield and Friends'. Nicely animated, and with a good range of genuinely funny gags, the enjoyable, if mildly predictable storyline sees Garfield, Odie and Jon Arbuckle heading out to the location hinted in the title for a once-in-a-lifetime shot at fame and stardom, via a national talent contest known as 'Pet Search'. Along the way, Garfield gets the itch for some creative freedom, not willing to settle for the hopelessly archaic song and dance routine devised for them by Jon, and goes to some pretty extreme lengths to obtain it.

Once the deciding round gets underway and the act in question has been severely revamped, with one member now excluded, the final outcome shouldn't be too much of a surprise, but Garfield's regular acerbic commentary upon his every experience, and the sheer volume of imaginative touches that just keep on coming as it goes leave you far too elated with what's in front of you to care. In addition to the wonderfully assorted variety of animal contestants entering in the 'Pet Search' competition (and just when you thought that 'Five Tap Dancing Pigeons and Herbie' skit couldn't get any more amusing…) we also get some neatly depicted glimpses of the local Hollywood scenery, a dream sequence paying homage to a handful of classic pictures ('the Wizard of Oz' and 'Singin' in the Rain' being among them), and, as per usual with any Garfield special, a square minimum of at least one agreeably catchy song number (in this one there are about three). On a side note, the humour here can occasionally get a tad more macabre than I'm used to from this cat (Garfield discovers a deviously sure-fire way of 'eliminating' a goldfish competing in a heat against him, while one woman is entering a pet who appears to have died, or at least passed out, prior to their turn), but certainly none the worse for it. Among the cream of Garfield's ventures, this slick trip to Hollywood is a delightful ride, and one which you can safely guarantee will never make you feel like you're too old to be revelling in cartoons. When they're loaded with this much quality, who on earth can resist?

Grade: A-

Confessions of a Dangerous Mind (2002)

A highly disarming dark comedy

[9/10 · 9 July 2005]

One of Charlie Kaufman's more overlooked and underrated screenplays, 'Confessions of a Dangerous Mind' may have been something of a departure from the high-concept experimentalism that made his previous brainchildren, 'Being John Malkovich' and 'Adaptation' (a masterpiece and a near-masterpiece, respectively) such striking breaths of fresh air, but on no account should its ability to engage and entertain on those strengths of its own be underestimated. Taking a well-earned break from the surreal situations and the complex plotting, Kaufman turned his attention here to a much more straightforward yarn that was better grounded in reality; the twist there being that it was based on a story that, while allegedly true, just as likely never happened. 'Confessions' though is willing to give Chuck Barris the benefit of the doubt in regards to his dubious claims to have been a secret assassin for the CIA in the midst of his days as a game show host, giving life to such controversial classic as 'the Gong Show' and 'the Dating Game' while taking it from a range of human targets around the globe. It sits back and lets the scenario unfold without question – and does so with such considerable spirit and vigour that it's hard not to get lured in and pulled along for the ride. Regardless of whether the real-life Barris truly did have some incredible adventures within his time, or simply an overly-active imagination, this movie translates it into one heck of an enjoyable romp – slick, stylish and entrancing on the surface, and with a bracingly poignant and sobering tale lurking underneath.

Kaufman continues to rule supreme with his flair for developing the most heavily flawed and eccentric of characters, investing them with witty dialogue and sharp situations and, as with his previous screenplays, the humour is a pleasantly mixed bag – lightly amusing at some points, laugh-out-loud hilarious at others, even outright alarming whenever it needs to be. George Clooney's direction, meanwhile, though it stands a fair distance from the eye-seizing zippiness that we're used to seeing Spike Jonze apply to this writer's workings, is still an accomplished visual take on the material, made sensational by its meticulous attention to detail. Indeed, the film's fondness for subtle in-jokes, crafty cameos (some great ones among the Dating Game contestants – absolutely great), background gags and general all-round intricacy is partly what makes it so rewarding and worthy of repeated viewings (I was watching it for what must have been sixth or seventh time last night, and still I found myself picking up a whole range of details that I somehow missed out on the first few times around). Sure, things can move a tad slowly every now and then, but with this number of niceties up there to be marvelled at you know you're never for a second going to be bored.

It also draws a fine contrast between the two separate pursuits that Chuck Barris is called to follow – the game show scenes are colourful, light-hearted fun, the assassin scenes murky and deliciously paranoid, and Sam Rockwell, at the helm as our savvy and hapless main man, has the timing, the energy and the appeal to emerge from the two as both a comic figure and a tragic one. Kicking off as a likable, familiar kind of anti-hero, whose goofy grin and offhand ways have us smiling through the bar fights and the womanising, he gradually evolves into something more enigmatic and sorrowful; a lost, confused individual whose more innocuous contributions to society, in the form of lowbrow 'trash TV', are widely scorned (not that I've ever seen any of the genuine Chuck Barris's shows myself, but it would amaze me if they were really any worse than the kind of mind-numbing reality TV that's enjoyed popularity over the past few years), while the hidden talent he discovers in contract killing begins to understandably repulse him soon enough. One of the most effective things about 'Confessions' is just how deftly it uses its gags and its pathos, along with interview snippets from those who were acquainted with the real-life Barris, which punctuate the story at various points, to reflect upon this man, his life, and just how much he really achieved either way, arriving in the end at quite a biting conclusion. I don't think that any other rendition of 'If I had a Hammer' could feel nearly as sad and haunting as it does here.

Drew Barrymore and Clooney himself offer nice support all the while, each epitomising different ends of the Chuck Barris spectrum – Barrymore, as Chuck's bubbly girlfriend Penny, is a fun-loving innocent; Clooney, as his CIA director, is aptly subtle and mysterious. But neither of them, or anyone else involved for a matter of fact, comes even close to upstaging Rockwell, whose input is simply fantastic – there's no doubt in my mind that the Best Actor Award which, as the blurb on the DVD so proudly states, he picked up at the Berlin International Film Festival for his efforts, was well-and-truly earned.

It's not an innovative, far-out, one-of-a-kind experience (a la 'Being John Malkovich'). But it's an entertaining, well-made and entirely satisfying flick with one particularly brilliant stand-out performance, and that's more than enough to do the job. Kaufman can probably pen avant-garde better than anybody else today, but 'Confessions of a Dangerous Mind' goes to prove that, when in the right company, he can write 'normal' just as impressively.

Grade: A

Garfield on the Town (1983 TV Short)

Cool for Cats

[8/10 · 3 July 2005]

Everybody's favourite overweight, lazy, cynical, lasagne-loving, Monday-loathing, orange-striped feline (one of many reasons why Garfield stands as such an unrivalled creation – have you ever seen such a unique combination of character traits?) received his second TV outing back in 1983 in this endearing tale of family unity and survival. Having been separated from his owner Jon Arbuckle and lost out on the streets of the city, where the local strays will defend their territory to the finish, Garfield has mixed experiences when he runs afoul with one particularly aggressive gang of moggies, only to be taken in and sheltered by another, much more lax group who, as it turns out, have a flesh-and-blood connection to him. But although his mother, who Garfield hasn't seen since his days as a kitten, is keen to welcome him, reservations soon arise as to whether or not our leading cat could ever fit in with the rest of his impoverished clan.

Admittedly, I've never really found any instalment in Garfield's TV special canon to be quite as dazzling as his equivalent adventures in the series 'Garfield and Friends' – the stories there were a lot shorter, but usually managed to pack in a lot more wit, charm and imagination to boot (although 'Garfield goes Hollywood', which almost felt like it could have been an extended segment of 'GaF', came extremely close). That said, 'On the Town' is still a fun and timeless 30-minute delight, made memorable by its touching story, pleasant music, playful humour, and, most crucially of all, an utterly inspired back-alley showdown between Garfield and a taunting purple stray (which consists mostly of flailing about and sizing each other up back and forth – and Garfield's problems with his claws and his shadow come as brilliant touches). The animation too is as about as high in quality as you'd expect from a project of this nature – basic, but clean, rounded and very easy on the eye; an improvement on that used in his debut special 'Here Comes Garfield' (which still succeeded in terms of heart and story), and better even than a handful of his later adventures like 'In the Rough' and 'In Disguise'. There are some technical glitches which keep things from running completely smoothly, including a rather awkward moment where Garfield's grandfather is moving his head and finger like he should be saying something, but nothing at all comes out (I assume it arose from a slip-up in the editing department). Also, has anyone else noticed that when the purple cat sings, he sounds nothing like he does when he talks? Well, I guess it's the kind of minor detail which only someone as insecure and nit-picky as me would make that big a thing out of…after all, these Garfield specials never aimed to be anything more than an enjoyable, light-hearted exercise in charm and entertainment for all the family, and this one certainly gets that job done well enough, so why try to find a huge deal of fault with it? Besides, I really owe too much to Garfield for all the times he's made me smile throughout my lifetime – and 'On the Town' is no exception. It features Liz at her most devilishly catty. The flashback sequence is handled perfectly. And the last few moments are absolutely wonderful.

Grade: A-

Babe: Pig in the City (1998)

Bites off more than it can chew

[5/10 · 26 June 2005]

Looking back, I don't know why I felt excited when I first heard that 'Babe', one of the most charming and delightful films that 1995 had to offer, would be next to go down with superfluous sequel syndrome. After all, you'd only need to look at how it ended to see that it was a perfectly satisfying story told well enough within itself, and that any additional material would surely be grasping the straws for ways to extend it. It shouldn't really have been too surprising that 'Babe: Pig in the City' (a generic sequel set-up if ever there was one - remember the follow-ups that 'Home Alone' and 'Homeward Bound' were afforded?) would have so much trouble in justifying itself and finding our porcine protagonist something worthwhile to do in his 90-odd minutes of extra time. I'd been swayed enough by his unwavering charm to head along in Christmas 1998 regardless, and pay up for a second instalment, little knowing I was in for an evening of eyebrow raising and shuffling uncomfortably in my seat.

Granted, for a sequel which existed primarily to cash in on the unexpected acclaim of the original - which, of course, it didn't - it at least made the effort to do something a little different on this occasion, instead of just retreading the same routine in an altered context (which is more than can be said for the sequels to 'Home Alone' and 'Homeward Bound'), so some credit for that. I just wish they'd found a better alternative than this strange plethora of tiring clichés (those evil folks in black suits at the bank want to buy out the farm and it's up to Babe to save it - what is it about that scenario that I find so uninspiring?), muddled plotting and blunted messages. I presume it was intended as a heart-warming caper about how one innocent little piglet winds up in the despondent city and brings hope and salvation to the masses of abused pets and outcast strays that roam the streets. But the charm of the original is sorely lacking - instead, it's been sidelined to make room for the elaborate extravagance that runs rampant through this sequel, and whatever teachings it may offer about charity and selflessness can never overcome the chaotic and surprisingly unpleasant feeling of the movie as a whole. When the champion sheep-herder isn't being abducted by creepy performing primates for use in their routines and inadvertently setting a children's ward on fire, he's having to rescue dogs from hanging themselves off bridges or becoming road kill on the freeway. Personally, I have nothing against family films that are willing to get a little sombre every now and then (moreover, I usually applaud them), but 'Pig in the City' tackles this in overkill, and with a fist too ham and a hand too heavy for its own benevolence.

True, the original film had its sprinkling of darkness, which the viewers, if not Babe himself, could easily pick up on, but more than enough lure and feel-good merriment to balance things out. Its sequel, meanwhile, has gone for immensity over quality - instead of subtle darkness, we get extreme grotesquery (as exemplified by Mickey Rooney's creepy clown guise) and all-out theatrical slapstick where the warmth and heart should have been. Everything on its agenda - humour, drama, animal welfare messages - is executed accordingly, and by the time we reach the (rushed and, let's face it, overly-idealistic) conclusion, it hasn't succeeded in being nearly as cheerful and uplifting as it thinks it has.

That in mind, I guess I also shouldn't have been too surprised that James Cromwell (ask any fan of the previous movie, and they'll tell you that he was easily as essential for making 'Babe' what it was as any of the animals on board) would be given such a minimalist hand in screen time. Hey, Farmer Hogget was always a deep, modest and understated man who obviously could never fit in the overblown approach that this outing adopted. It would also account for the severely diminished roles of the more restrained of the farmyard critters - Rex, Fly and Duchess have been appropriately excluded, while Ferdinand and the singing rodent trio have tagged along for little other reason than to raise their voices whenever necessary. As for the fresh horde of characters that Babe encounters on his threadbare adventure, they lack depth and dimension in just about every way possible, and if not for their varying range of visual characteristics, would be impossible to distinguish altogether (as before, the mix of trained animals and animatronics works wonders, but the addition of CGI to the visual equation - in the form of baby chimps, goldfish and some truly dreadful-looking pelicans - sticks out like a sore thumb). The only thing it really has to keep it going is Babe himself. At least he's still the charming mass of sincerity he's always been (even if his original vocal chords have bolted - wisely so, Christine Cavanaugh) and remains the one ray of positive light which keeps this film from getting swallowed up in its own profligacy.

There have been worse follow-ups, I suppose. Babe's charisma, some decent visuals and its willingness to innovate are what keep me from writing this off as a total scrap-heap - just about enough merit to avoid disgracing its forerunner, but it doesn't exactly do it a great deal of justice either. Watch it if you must, but are you sure you wouldn't rather pay the original another visit instead? I assure you, that film is very re-watchable. This one, as I discovered when I finally gave it a second chance, really isn't.

Grade: C

On Probation (1983)

The weakest of the Conversation Pieces, but a good enough effort

[6/10 · 19 June 2005]

Of all five stop motion shorts used in Aardman's early 80s series 'Conversation Pieces', 'On Probation' has probably aged the least gracefully. In spite of dealing with the most potentially powerful subject matter of the lot (the others dealt with door-to-door salesmen, holidays, early morning radio and tabloid newspapers) it isn't nearly as engaging as its four companion pieces (and definitely not as enjoyable). The situation, which, as any Aardman enthusiast might have guessed, was extracted from a real-life recording, is vaguely intriguing - an anxious youth named Steve is trying to persuade his probation officers to let him miss an upcoming meeting to go and see his brother in what could be his only chance for quite some time. I was genuinely curious to see how things would work out, but there was just something about it which kept me from getting completely involved, and from taking the short as a whole entirely seriously. I put a lot of it down to the animation and character designs, which score as the crudest in the line-up - granted, the techniques used in all the 'Conversation Pieces' are now looking a mite undated to some extent, but never quite as awkward and jerky as they come off in this one. You wouldn't really have to glance at the production dates to decipher that 'On Probation' was the first in the series - a prototype which Peter Lord and David Sproxton had fortunately figured out how to improve upon when they finally got round to the others. And whereas those that followed were rendered even more agreeable by the large number of pretty little sight gags which Lord and Sproxton had used to bring each of the conversations to life, 'On Probation' is pretty barren in that department for the most part, inserting no more than a handful of humorous happenings - which, given the subject matter, is understandable. But, for all the reasons mentioned above, it doesn't have the strength to carry itself on the merits of its topic alone.

Still, regardless of the rather jarring end result, it's clear that the animators at least tried to make things look as realistic and convincing as possible, with great attention going to the various physical mannerisms of the characters. The body language, rough as it may be, corresponds very nicely with the spoken words, and pays off most effectively with our protagonist Steve. With his slouching posture and wandering eye contact, he comes across as being somewhat sheepish and unsure of himself, earning some viewer sympathy and giving it a slightly emotional tinge. This is something which Peter Lord later perfected in 1987 with his poignant near-masterpiece 'Going Equipped' - I imagine that earlier projects like 'On Probation' served as more of a testing ground for this approach.

As Aardman goes, 'On Probation' is in with the more mediocre division - it isn't as fun or as easy (for unintentional reasons) to watch as the others of its kind, and I'll even admit to usually skipping this one when I'm giving the series a spin. But at the very least, the rudiments of a good claymation short are lurking in there somewhere, and it provided a good learning curve for later and better things.

Grade: B-

Adam (1992)

A Classic Creation

[9/10 · 18 June 2005]

Yet another fine example of Aardman's pure unbounded brilliance, this amusing and engaging short focuses on the misadventures of a lonesome plasticine figure when his Creator (represented by a real human hand) places him on a tiny nondescript planet and brings him to life. The musical score used in the opening title is bold, beautiful and breathtaking but, in a sparkling piece of irony, when we actually get to meet this 'Adam' for ourselves, he turns out to be a weak, innocent and hopelessly naive being who, having been given life, has trouble working out exactly what it is he's supposed to be doing with it. He goes through all the various stages of coming to terms with his own existence and identity and exploring the world around him, and when it becomes apparent that Adam will never get by down there on his own, his Creator finally chooses to take more clay and mould him a companion, much to Adam's delight. Trouble is, the finished product isn't quite what our hero had in mind, making way for a hilarious and at the same time rather poignant conclusion.

The animation, in spite of looking just a tad unpolished, is excellent, the sight gags are perfectly executed (I like Adam's futile attempt to head off and see the rest of the world myself), and Adam himself is as charming a stop motion character as they come. His total obliviousness to his own limitations, which somehow manage to land him in all kinds of perilous situations on this seemingly innocuous planet, is what makes him so thoroughly appealing. It all comes together to produce one of the most fascinating and ambiguous films that the Bristol-based studio has ever crafted. Did Peter Lord intend it as a social commentary on male and female relations, a statement about humankind in general, an analogy of the animator's role as 'God' to the claymation figures he sculpts and brings to 'life', or simply a playful variation on the familiar creation story? Well, that's for your own interpretation to decide, but I personally view it as being a mixture of them all. Whatever the real meaning, it's lovable, enjoyable and Aardman's most inspired shot at a non-dialogue film.

Grade: A

Early Bird (1983)

Healthy, Wealthy and Wise

[8/10 · 9 June 2005]

Perhaps the most memorable and enjoyable (and certainly the most lively) of the five stop motion shorts which made up Aardman's early 80s series, 'Conversation Pieces', 'Early Bird' offers an amusing glimpse of what goes on inside the studio of a local early morning radio show, as presented by Roger Day (filling in for the slot's regular DJ John Hayes, who'll reportedly be on holiday for another week and a half). Like all the 'Conversation Pieces', the dialogue was taken from a real-life recording and combined with then-state-of-the-art claymation (which obviously looks a little dated by contemporary standards, but not jarringly so - in fact, the character movements still seem fairly seamless and impressive), the real joy being not so much in the words themselves, but in whatever imaginative little touches that Peter Lord and David Sproxton could add to the visual conveying. Of the bunch, I'd say that 'Early Bird' mastered this most successfully (though another good contender, 'Palmy Days', did a decent job of adapting its own recording into an entirely different context). Amidst all the traffic reports, dedications, horoscopes and trivia-reading, it has the presenter going about his own morning routine; brushing his teeth, shaving, cooking breakfast, all within the confines of the studio, before heading out to begin the day. There are plenty of kicks to be had along the way from the minor mistakes he makes (like washing records instead of dishes), the various pieces of studio equipment which appear to take on minds of their own (look out for one encounter with a particularly disobedient microphone), and of course the true identity of successive presenter Trevor Fry, a closing gag guaranteed to put a smile on your face.

Due to the nature of the recorded dialogue being wielded in the short, it also evades the fundamental flaw that might curb your appreciation of its fellow 'Conversation Pieces' slightly - and that's that the sound quality is generally awkward, something which the Aardman DVD release I was able to grab them all on unfortunately did little to improve upon. A lot of the time, you really need to pay close attention just to work out exactly what it is that the characters are chatting about (I assume a lot of it comes down to the kind of recording equipment they had available at the time, and just how close a proximity they were able to get to the real-life speakers, who sometimes sounded a little far-off). No such problems here - it could be recorded directly from the radio, and the speaker is naturally very fluent and outspoken throughout. The presence of radio beds and jingles, all of which are perfectly pleasant, also compliments the duration nicely.

A nice reminder of the days when records were the customary musical format instead of CDs, and an entertaining way to while five minutes of your time, 'Early Bird' may not be Aardman's greatest work perhaps, but it has a welcome place on my favourites list.

Grade: A-

Creature Comforts (1989)

Part of the world, not just some object in a box

[9/10 · 27 May 2005]

If there's any single short out there that marked a real defining point for those claymation whiz kids down at Aardman, I'd say 'Creature Comforts' is the one. The debut piece of the now legendary Nick Park (who'd go on to create a series of captivating short films featuring a certain cheese-loving inventor and his well-read canine cohort, whose names I'm sure you don't need me to spell out for you here), it's now a widely-regarded classic in stop motion animation history, and there are some pretty good reasons for that. No other Aardman project, great as they frequently are, has managed to combine such high levels of whimsy, charm and poignancy quite as deftly as this one. The bright idea of taking real-life recordings with members of the public and aligning them with talking plasticine animals in the style of vox pop interviews (in this case, zoo animals commenting on their general living conditions, as extracted from discussions with residents of retirement homes, council housing and student halls) was so fresh, so ingenious and so delightful that the five minute running time designated here simply wasn't enough. It was a concept which begged to be extended, and it spawned a much-deserved franchise in the early 90s with TV ads for the UK's Heat Electric and, more recently, a long-awaited TV series in 2003. A franchise which in turn helped to establish Aardman's now-firm reputation for colourful, offbeat cosiness, as opposed to some of the more downbeat and sombre shorts they'd been working on for much of the 80s (many of which were good enough in their own right - Peter Lord's 'Going Equipped', which debuted alongside 'Creature Comforts' in the Channel 4 series 'Lip Synch, in particular is more than worth a look).

Compared to a lot of the output that followed it, the animation here may look a little primitive by today's standards (the depressed gorilla, for example, is quite clearly riddled with the animator's finger prints), but it's an easily forgivable fault, and doesn't detract from the visual joy that this short is swimming in from start to finish. Get a load of all those wonderful sight gags - the elderly bush-baby's gigantic magnified pupils, the unidentified birds with beaks held on by elastic bands (the antics of the non-speaking characters hovering about in the background have always been something to keep an eye out for in the 'Creature Comforts' realm), the treadmill-running terrapins, the dozens of shrieking, flailing baby rodents…all of it gold. Earning Nick Park an Oscar in 1990 for his efforts, it's endearing and comical to the bone - and yet there's also a mild tinge of sadness to it that I doubt 'Creature Comforts' would have been nearly as memorable without. For all the quirky cuteness that those clay-built critters possess, the anguish of a few of the original speakers remains persistent in their voices, and shines through in their pertaining characters quite dynamically. Most of the animals, it would seem, are perfectly contented with their lives in captivity, but there are a few who feel the sting of alienation, the homesick wild cat from Brazil being the standout personality on this one - the high range of exaggerated mannerisms that Park uses to bring him to life are unforgettable.

A lovely film and a wonderful concept, what makes 'Creature Comforts' such a striking experience is, in part, how it touches upon some of the helplessness and frustrations of having to live in a world you feel out of place in. It's also a whole lot of fun too.

Grade: A

Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey (1993)

Lively but inferior remake

[5/10 · 12 May 2005]

In a way, watching 'Homeward Bound: the Incredible Journey' was like a milestone in my own personal viewing experience - it was the first time, that I can remember, I found myself settling down to see a remake of a movie I was already well-familiar with. I was still in primary school when this film hit the screens, but already I knew every scene and character of the charming 1963 classic 'the Incredible Journey' pretty much off by heart. It was a simple but engaging storyline which followed a trio of household pets - an elderly dog named Bodger, a young dog named Lua, and a cat named Tao - as they embarked on a remarkable 200 mile trek across the North American wilderness to be reunited with their owners, learning how to fend for themselves, encountering hostile local wildlife, and maintaining a good close-knit bond with each other all the way.

This 90s update follows much the same route, with latter day critters finding themselves in a similar situation and enduring all the obstacles that their forerunners did before them (bears, rivers, porcupines, wild cats), with the odd tweak here and there. The main difference being that they themselves have been given significant makeovers in mind-set, moniker and vocal chords - this time round, Shadow, Chance and Sassy, as they're now known, all sport human voices and, unsurprisingly, more human dispositions. This being a pre-Babe talking critter flick though their mouths don't actually move along with the dialogue being uttered, having it pasted instead on top of their filmed behaviours, a technique which looks more convincing in some scenes than others. And, as good as much of the voice work itself indisputably is (Michael J Fox's charisma never wanes), I'm afraid I have to disagree with most of the comments before me that it actually enhanced their story or characters in any way. Sure, Lua, Tao and Bodger of the original didn't speak, but then again they didn't need to. The animals playing them were expressive and entrancing enough on their own, and had a true naturalistic charm in the sense that they were so believable as a threesome of innocent beings wandering through an environment considerably more vast and intimidating than the one they're used to. They may have lacked the ability to express it in words, but it was evident just how devoted they were to both their owners and each other. Sassy, Chance and Shadow, meanwhile, are more outspoken, but this same unifying sense of friendship and affection is something which they certainly don't pull off. Perhaps because the duration of their journey is marked by so much taunting and bickering amongst themselves, which in turn makes them a tad less appealing as characters - the spitefulness always present in the way that Chance and Sassy interact with each other is especially distracting.

The fundamental flaw of 'Homeward Bound' isn't really in the talking itself (which always had the potential to be very charming), but that it rarely uses it as anything more than an opportunity to crank up the comedy…which comes mostly from anal fixations and a harmless but wearisome debate about which of the two species is superior (or rather, which one 'rules' while the other 'drools'), along with lashings of silly lightweight slapstick on the side - basically, things which didn't really bother me the first two or three times I saw it, but which started to grate big time as I got older (as opposed to the infinitely more mature original, which has never outworn its welcome). The fact that one of the dogs has a full understanding of who Arnold Schwarzenegger is probably doesn't help their case.

Missing also from this mix is not only the bulk of the original's warmth, but much of the darkness and poignancy too - if anything, the story has been distinctly softened up for this particular telling. While its predecessor was never afraid to get ugly in its depiction of the perils of the natural world that our heroes were fording, 'Homeward Bound' chooses instead to play them up for whatever amusement value they might have - the river-crossing mishap, very fortunately, remains a serious matter, but their confrontations with other animals are sorely lacking in the same bite as before (the way in which Chance and Shadow here deal with a cougar on their trail is embarrassingly cartoony and childish).

In the end, what we have here is a lively but pretty routine family film for its decade, and which, as a remake, falls way short of the charm, the adventure and indeed the flavour of its forebear. It will no doubt amuse its intended audience, and I suppose that's half the battle already won. More demanding viewers though will be better off with the genuine article, which trumps it on all counts.

Grade: C

The Incredible Journey (1963)

Straightforward, heart-warming stuff - pet lovers will appreciate

[8/10 · 6 May 2005]

Yep, I can still recall just how much this particular film managed to stir, thrill, rattle and enthral me when I was first introduced to it at the age of four. Having spanned the past couple of decades or so as an afternoon TV favourite, it's given me plenty of opportunities over the years to catch up with it every so often and witness Lua the retriever, Bodger the bull terrier and Tao the Siamese cat making the incredible journey referenced in the title all over again. No matter how archaic it could easily be dismissed as in comparison to the kind of household pet movies that get snapped up nowadays (no celebrity voice-overs here…no voice-overs at all for that matter), it remains as charming and wonderful as I ever remember it being - simple, engaging, maybe even a little powerful, especially for anyone who's ever felt close to an animal companion of their own. The plot, straightforward enough for a young kid to easily follow, but never crossing the line into the overly simplistic or childish, is the perfect definition of loyalty and devotion, particularly in regards to the bond between a pet and their owner. Two dogs (one a sprightly youngster, the other an aged fellow struggling to keep up) and their feline friend get separated from the human family that's doted on them all their lives, and are compelled by their strong sense of homing instinct and longing for their two-legged pals to head off together in the direction of home - completely oblivious, of course, to the fact that it's over 200 miles away and leads mostly through a terrain of beautiful but treacherous wilderness where wild animals have the upper paw.

What works so well about 'the Incredible Journey' is that the animals themselves are actually a very good set of actors (the highly expressive cat playing Tao is particularly impressive), and the film-makers show a lot of well-judged willingness to let that tell the bulk of the story in itself. Contrast this with the 1993 remake, 'Homeward Bound', which updated the tale to a contemporary setting and, inevitably, gave them celebrity voice-overs and human personalities (a handful of people embraced it for precisely those reasons, but, even if one of those voices did come from the legendary Michael J Fox, I found it a little unconvincing and distracting myself). While that particular version chose to up the emphasis on comedy, and had its four-legged trio spouting throwaway wisecracks and playground dialogue for much of the time, the original was much more confident (and rightly so) in the animals' abilities to charm and engage us with their own naturalistic merits. An off-screen narrator does explain a lot of the details that they probably couldn't have otherwise conveyed on their own, but these never feel forced or excessively anthropomorphic - they remain animals at all times, natural and convincing, and in the process actually manage to express far more depth and character than the 'Homeward Bound' trio ever could, even with their firm grasp of the English language. That scene where Bodger licks and nudges Tao so enthusiastically says a lot more about the affection they have for one another, I think, than all the throwaway gags in the world.

The human actors are more of a mixed bag - some of them are good, some of them are just average - but hey, they're hardly the reason why most of us would choose to watch this movie in the first place. Things are generally a lot stronger when they're focusing on the animals, a fair exception being the sequence involving a lonely young girl who provides temporary refuge for Tao, which paves way for one of the most poignant moments in the entire film (and which the remake, oddly enough, has no equivalent scene for).

Another great thing about 'the Incredible Journey' is the way in which it manages to blend both the beauty and splendour of the natural wilderness with the far rougher 'survival of the fittest' principle that drives it. The scene involving the mother bear and her cubs goes from being cute and amusing to outright towering in the blink of an eye (allowing the ever-charismatic Tao to bag one of his finest moments). The scene where Tao gets pursued by the lynx is also pretty frightening (and certainly not without its irony), and Lua's run-in with the porcupine becomes rather harrowing when the poor dog has to deal with the consequences of going after such prickly prey. Incidents which all serve as sharp reminders of just how vulnerable these pampered pets really are in a world so far out of their usual kitchen-and-fireside-rug element. Though it was the river-crossing sequence, along with the less dramatic but equally affecting scene that follows, that I'll readily admit to finding most heart-rending the first time I saw it, and on every single viewing since I can't help but feel just a little apprehensive inside as it happens.

Still, while it's certainly a more daunting experience than its light-hearted remake (which reformulated most of those scenes for their comic effect), it also maintains a good balance between the danger and the warmth, and the robust appeal of its trio of leads gives it a heart of solid gold from beginning to end. Other than the animals, the scenery and the background score, there really isn't a great deal else to it when all is said and done, but those assets alone are effective enough to make it soar - indeed, the only modern creature flick that could stand a chance of outclassing it would have to be 'Babe'. Tailor-made for any pet lover, 'the Incredible Journey' is one of Disney's key live action classics, one which I've enjoyed watching all my life, and I anticipate many a pleasurable repeated viewing in the years and afternoon TV airings still to come.

Grade: A-

Bad Lieutenant (1992)

Rough content, but beautifully bleak and harrowing

[9/10 · 26 April 2005]

People are probably right enough when they comment that this entire film essentially hinges on Harvey Kietel's impassioned performance as the corrupt and deeply troubled lieutenant of the title. Which shouldn't necessarily be taken as a shortcoming - an engrossing lead is the one key thing that any one-man character study like this needs in order to flourish, after all. Whether sobbing, howling or clenching his jaws in anguish, or else hanging his head and sipping liquor in silence, his acting here is always raw, convincing and utterly compelling; the kind of portrayal you'd be hard-pressed to take your eyes off. The exact identity of his character is never revealed, but the title informs us he's a 'bad lieutenant', a label seemingly confirmed by his tendency to indulge in substance abuse, work up heavy gambling debts and even, on occasion, pull over a couple of young female drivers and use them as motivation for his own self-pleasure. Very lurid, and yet the way that Kietel plays him also makes feel completely human. He conveys such pain and desperation behind his each and every immoral action that they never come across as nearly as shocking or vulgar to watch as they are harrowing. It's this alone that enables 'Bad Lieutenant' as a whole to reach the true extent of its potential - what could easily be read off as a plethora of fury, drug-taking, masturbation and full-frontal nudity in practice translates very aptly into a sad and striking depiction of a despondent man who's lost his ability to see goodness in anything in life, and who's sinking ever deeper beneath the weight of all those answers being continuously sought in the wrong places. As you've probably worked out by now, this isn't exactly the balmiest movie you could spending your time with (might be wrong, but I don't think there's a single light-hearted moment to be found in the entire screenplay), but if you can bring yourself to look past the sourness on the surface and instead feel sympathy for this bad lieutenant, as Kietel's involving performance invites us to do, then you'll find some considerable power lurking in its bleakness.

So, while it's Harvey Kietel who really (and rightly) brings things together in 'Bad Lieutenant' and makes it the affecting near-masterpiece that it is, it would be unfair of me to completely overlook Ferrara's role in this equation. He's provided the context against which our centrepiece man must function - a world so run-down, sombre and nihilistic that trying to find redemption round here seems not only impossible, but practically pointless. The mood is well-set by the ever-overcast skies; killing, rape and robbery are rampant, and the Lt isn't exactly given a great deal to aspire to in his day-to-day life. Kietel and his character are admittedly the only things here that come off as particularly outstanding - the vast majority of supporting characters are really all just part of this one big daunting backdrop, with dialogue, screen time and development kept to a strict minimum in each case - though personally I look at this as being more of an additional strength than as a weakness. That everyone else around him always seems so distant only increases the overall feelings of detachment and isolation that draw us deeper into the Lt's outlook.

Christian faith and symbolism are pretty integral to the overall themes of this movie, but even being non-religious myself I find I can still get a good deal of emotional investment in it. It delivers its underlying issues - of non-judgement and the potential for goodness in even the most repellent of sinners - with acute precision, as reflected in the investigation concerning the raping of a young nun which the plot loosely revolves around. While this heinous crime only serves to strengthen the Lt's belief in the general depravity of the world around him, the nun herself has found solace in her refusal to condemn those who wronged her, viewing them instead as victims as their own confusion and despair. There are of course some fairly sharp parallels between this scenario and the Lt's own personal predicament, which any viewer who's really come to feel for him will recognise - as displeasing as some of the things he himself gets up to may be (and the way he incorporates further crime into his efforts to uphold the law), there's that challenge lying at the centre of every scene as to whether or not we're really in any position to pass judgement upon him. All things considered, is it truly a bad lieutenant that he is at heart or just, well, a sad one?

I don't imagine that everyone will quite take to the conclusion this eventually leads to (and which I'm not going to give away here), but considering just how weighty a lot of the issues it addresses really are, you never get the impression that Ferrara ever intended to come up with a cut-and-dried solution of any sorts. Instead, he and Kietel have put together a polished and powerful piece of film-making that, though it deals with some pretty disagreeable and, at the time at least, controversial subject matter, is so rich in great acting (well, one great performance, but it's easily worth the input of an entire cast) and slick atmospherics that it becomes entirely captivating. In the end, it's the surprising amount of depth and emotional muscle that it carries, and not the notorious reputation that it garnered, that 'Bad Lieutenant' really deserves to be remembered for - and remembered I hope it always will be. Another great in early 90s cinema.

Grade: A

Tetris (1984 Video Game)

Couldn't have been simpler, but it ruled

[20 April 2005]

Is there anything more entrancing than viewing a barrage of randomly-shaped blocks raining down on your computer screen? In theory that probably doesn't sound like it guarantees a thrill-ride, but this simple, ingenious little classic in the video game realm knew how to put it into deliciously addictive practice. You know how it works – a succession of square-based shapes start falling one by one and it's up to you to arrange them into perfect horizontal lines, allowing them to disappear the second they're completed. Keep the pile of blocks low and manageable at all times – they'll keep on falling no matter what, and if the pile gets out of control, that's when the fatal 'Game Over' slogan flashes. I have clear memories of playing it as a kid through to my early teens, and no matter how many lines I sorted and blocks I eliminated, and the eventual pile-ups I would inevitably endure, it was a game I kept on going back to. Then I'd end up getting side-tracked by something else, leave it dormant for a while, then finally rediscover it and get addicted all over again. I'm sure I'd still be giving it a go every so often even today if I hadn't misplaced my copy. :(

A fraction of this humble game's appeal would have to be attributed to the unforgettable theme music – and was there ever a more beautifully catchy electronic score to accompany your game play? I never got tired of hearing that tune, or the sound effects at that (including that particularly satisfying sound bite you'd hear whenever you were slick enough to nail five lines in a row). But even if you removed that from the mix, it wouldn't have kept 'Tetris' from being the endearing smash that it so rightfully was. It remains full-on evidence that video games don't necessarily require cutting-edge graphics or complex game-play to be involving or successful. This one was basic, but it was fun and it was challenging, and in the end that's all you really need to have a classic on your hands. There probably isn't anything else to say, except "great game".

Adaptation. (2002)

Gets better and cleverer with every viewing

[9/10 · 18 April 2005]

Considering just how much I loved Kaufman/Jonze's original collaboration 'Being John Malkovich' (a film which gets my vote for the best of 1999), I can't believe it's taken me so long to get round to giving this one a spin. And one thing's for sure – anyone planning to tackle 'Adaptation' needs to come along with plenty of patience at hand. Enjoyable as it frequently is (thanks mainly to Cage's surprisingly successful double act and Chris Cooper's charisma) there are moments on the initial viewing when it can also feel trying – when the story feels like it's going nowhere, and that screenwriter Charlie Kaufman is wrestling with writers' block every bit as desperately as his on screen counterpart. There'll also be scenes that seem out of place and confusing (including an early evolution sequence that, while visually impressive, at first seems to be there for no other purpose than being an easy attention-grabber). And, no matter how thickly he layers on the self-depreciation, there'll inevitably be those viewers who'll find self-indulgence inherent in the whole concept of a writer making himself the protagonist of his own script.

The GOOD news is that anyone willing to tolerate these issues for the time being is in for one heck of a reward, though it may take more than one viewing for this to really kick in. If you felt that the twist ending leaned dangerously close to 'cop-out' status, just hit the remote and watch it again from the beginning (trust me, it'll be worth every repeated second). With the final outcome now in mind you'll be amazed at just how smoothly everything falls into place. Suddenly, the existence of the showy evolution run-down makes perfect sense, the writers' block moments are fully understandable, and Kaufman's own screen presence as a character (as well as that of his fictional twin brother, Donald) actually comes together to make a pretty shrewd statement about movie conventions in general.

The real intelligence of this flick is something which grows more apparent as you come to appreciate just how accurately the characters' own experiences are reflected in the entire nature of 'Adaptation' itself. Looking back, I now see how the fragmented, uneven structure remains truthful to the high volume of false starts and failed attempts that 'Charlie Kaufman' has made and at one point states that he cannot go back on. There's also the obvious contrast between the different screenplays that each Kaufman brother is currently working on – while Charlie struggles to transfer the beautiful but not exactly theatrical events of 'the Orchid Thief' to script form, Donald receives nothing but praise and incentives for his highly dramatic but basically empty thriller. Beyond the context of the film, the real-life Charlie Kaufman starts out with a movie much closer to that which his counterpart is attempting to pen, in which characters struggle but do not succeed, but eventually gives way to the popcorn action guaranteed to entertain us, complete with drug abuse, sex, guns and high-speed car chases. Just as 'Being John Malkovich' skewered the shallowness of human society in the way we revere our celebrities, so too 'Adaptation' provides a backlash at some of the clichés most typically favoured in films. Suddenly, the fact that we rejected his initial attempts at something a little more unique and were rubbing our hands together with glee the second that the Hollywood action got underway almost feels like a weapon being used against us.

On top of everything else, it did show me just how easily wowed I personally am by what Donald refers to as an 'image system' – in his screenplay's case, fragmented mirrors to symbolise multiple personality disorders, and, in the case of 'Adaptation' itself, a closing shot of a bed of flowers thriving in the midst of the hectic city. I couldn't think of a better way of defining the whole concept of 'adaptation', or a more perfect reflection of what Charlie has to show for all his troubles by the time the end-credits start rolling. After all, he did partially succeed in his original aim – John Laroche still comes across as an interesting character with some intriguing philosophies, Susan Orlean's fascination with him is nicely captured and convincing, and those orchids are still all displayed throughout in their full aesthetic glory. Just as those flowers remain vivid and beautiful even when surrounded by such an unnatural habitat, the real depth that Charlie wanted to convey still survives amidst all the added plot contrivances.

All in all, it's a film that took risks – it's funny, charming and very distinctive, but the structure alone is going to infuriate a lot of potential admirers. Another look, and it turns out they knew what they were doing all along.

Grade: A

Two Weeks Vacation (1952)

The Open Road to Nowhere...

[8/10 · 16 April 2005]

To be perfectly honest, this classic Goofy short is more concerned with the actual getting to your holiday destination of choice than with the two weeks vacation itself. We see far less of this and a lot more of the travelling process involved, which sometimes makes me wonder if they really had loads more material to come on this one but were forced to cut things short for the sake of the 6 minute running time. Something about the story here does feel just a tiny bit incomplete...nevertheless, combining all the usual ingredients in the trusty Goofy formula – the off-screen, plumy-voiced narrator who succeeds in putting a more positive spin on the visual mishaps our hero endures, along with fluid animation and distinctive voice-work – it lacks none of the charm or humour needed to make a great Disney cartoon.

Taking a break from the monotony of the office, Goofy is hitting the road and heading for the wilderness for a fortnight of camping and leisure, but finds the journey to be stressful enough in itself. Of all the Walt Disney shorts I watched while I was growing up (and am always glad to come across again whenever I'm going through all my old videotapes from the 1980s), this is one of the little highlights that have really lingered on inside my mind. Not so much for its amusement level (which is certainly high), but mainly because its depiction of life on the 'Open Road' is, in some ways, every bit as troubling and twisted as it is funny – and this was 19 years before Steven Spielberg's 'Duel' at that. I tell you, the sequence with the approaching train by the overnight rest-stop used to freak me out considerably as a younger viewer – and please, don't get me started on the deal with that trailer!

Unlike those Disney shorts centred around Pluto or Donald, which have appealed to me from pretty much the split-second I was introduced to them, Goofy's unique line of cartoons are something I think I came to appreciate more with age. There's a fairly wry, ironic and sometimes even satirical edge to his shorts that's perhaps even more liable to tickle an adult audience than one made up of kiddies, including a great moment here involving a road-side hitch-hiker who seems determined to disprove the old saying that 'beggars can't be choosers'. I also have to dig that foreseeable but still very enjoyable encounter with the crooked car mechanics. And of course, there are still plenty of colourful sight gags on hand to ensure that younger viewers won't be bored.

For anyone familiar with Goofy's luck, the final outcome shouldn't be too much of a surprise, but the central joke of this short – that setting out on vacation can be ten times more exhausting than being at work – is definitely a good one, and doesn't go to waste.

Grade: A-

Snoopy's Reunion (1991 TV Short)

Back to the Daisy Hill Puppy Farm

[7/10 · 16 April 2005]

The biggest problem with 'Snoopy's Reunion' should be evident in even the title – considering that it strays from the long-standing tradition that all 'Peanuts' TV special titles should be statements or questions directed at Charlie Brown (It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, It was a Short Summer, Charlie Brown, etc), it isn't really that big a surprise that the story takes so many liberties with established 'Peanuts' history and principles. In many ways, this special could be received as an absolute nightmare for any nitpicking fan. An earlier source, the feature film 'Snoopy Come Home', revealed that the boisterous beagle had indeed once belonged to a little girl named Lila before being passed on into Charlie Brown's hands – so, that's something that the two instalments can at least agree on. See, the events depicted in 'Snoopy's Reunion' conflict with it over just about every other detail concerning how the boy and his dog first came to be together, the most noticeable being the well-observed fact that Sally wasn't even born when her brother acquired his new pet, something which this story strangely ignores (heck, it even shows her as being at her current age when it happened). It also breaks the Golden Rule that you never actually show the adults in the 'Peanuts' world (at least not their faces), or convey their speech as anything other than trombone-sounding gibberish. Well, I guess it made it easier for them to tell this particular tale, but since the kids and the dogs are still the main focus, I feel that with a little more thought they could've found a way round it.

But, no matter how nagging those faults can be, I find that I just can't stay mad at this special for long. In context with the rest of Charlie Brown's resume, it may seem lazy and inconsistent, but as a stand-alone story it still comes through as quite a pleasant little heart-warmer, partly poignant, partly bittersweet and partly upbeat and uplifting. Snoopy and his seven siblings (this looks like as good a time as any to show off my extensive 'Peanuts' knowledge – Andy, Belle, Marbles, Molly, Olaf, Rover and Spike are the names of all those guys!) are certainly very cute and make a fine little team from the beginning, so it's actually kinda sad to see them all get separated as puppies going off with different owners, furthermore when they're finally all reunited and discover that the world, physically at least, has moved on quite a bit since they were last together. But it's the way that the beagle kin react to this realisation that makes the whole thing so worthwhile – that spirit of theirs is something to be marvelled at.

There isn't really a great deal in the way of plot, dialogue or humour, but the appeal of those extroverted dogs is just about enough to carry it for the 24 minute running time (and it ends not a moment too soon). To sum up, I'd say it's worth a watch for any 'Peanuts' fan, provided that they're willing to overlook just how many odds it's at with the rest of the cannon.

Grade: B

Garfield and Friends (1988–1995)

A kids' cartoon worth revisiting

[9/10 · 16 April 2005]

At one point when I was very young, 'Garfield and Friends' was one of the after-school cartoons I always looked forward to being able to watch the most – every Thursday I would eagerly await getting home and tuning in to the sardonic ginger-tabby and his various musings on life. I LOVED the initial theme song, 'Friends are There' (in fact I can still remember how frustrated I was when they converted to the painfully catchy 'Get Ready to Party' opener – ugh!), and the escapades that the overweight kitty got himself into always held my interest from beginning to end. Even when production stopped and the show left the air, and when I grew up and lost my enthusiasm for after-school TV (though I'll always have a soft spot for cartoons deep down, and this show is one of the key reasons why), a whole load of the stories, the characters and of course the theme music stayed with me through the years. I was delighted, a couple of years or so ago, to find a satellite channel that broadcast repeats of 'Garfield and Friends', and decided to watch them chiefly for the childhood memories. It came as quite a pleasant surprise, therefore, to discover just how well 'Garfield' now stood up to even my cynical young adult mind. The writing here could be so smart and dry that I found myself smiling at lines which meant nothing to me at that age. Back then, I just loved it for the visual humour and the easy-to-follow narratives, but really there were so many layers to this show all along that I had to wait to be able to value.

There was one mild disappointment that I probably should try and get out of the way as quickly as possible, and that's that the lesser known Jim Davis cartoon that accompanied it, 'US Acres' (or, as it was titled here in the UK, 'Orson's Farm') proved exactly the opposite – that is, it doesn't impress me nearly as much now as it did when I was six or so. I feel like I'm echoing pretty much everyone else here in saying it – that they were good for non-discerning kids who wouldn't mind the preachy morals or grating musical numbers that turned up in *every single damn episode*. Older viewers, on the other hand, might want to use the 'US Acres' segments as time to step out into the kitchen and fix themselves a cup of coffee before the next 'Garfield' one starts. That in mind, the inspired opening credits sequence, in which Garfield battles it out with Orson and his farmyard cronies for screen dominance, just about manages to justify them.

Back to the truly great stuff – the 'Garfield' segments. There are so many glowing things to be said about those cartoons. Lorenzo Music's voice-work was fabulous. The anti-heroic characters were all wonderful, and so unlike any you could find in other kids' cartoons at the time – as well as our sarcastic, self-serving lead, we also had the hapless social misfit Jon Arbuckle, the mindless, relentlessly cheerful yellow canine Odie, and Nermal, a narcissistic little kitten who values his natural cuteness above everything else in life (and yes, he IS officially a male, no matter how feminine his voice-over sounded – that's something which always confused me as a kid). Another thing to be admired about 'Garfield' was just how brave and risk-taking it was for a cartoon that came after 'the Flinstones' but just before 'the Simpsons' – in between the great success that those two shows each enjoyed, animation had been widely regarded as exclusively juvenile stuff of no importance other than to keep the younger members of the family quiet for half an hour. Such disregard did little to dampen Garfield's attitude. His cartoons were willing to play around with the customs of the format, with its very post-modern self-referring humour (not to mention the fact that Garfield himself appeared to be fully aware that he was really a character in a cartoon show), and frequent stabs at experimental episodes – I'm thinking along the lines of the one where Garfield wakes up in the wrong cartoon, or those where he steps out of the context of his own cartoon and gives a lecture on what makes successful comedy, or whatnot. Most of it paid off really well.

And I just realised that I managed to get through most of this comment without reference to that live action movie with a CGI Garfield that 20th Century Fox churned out last year. Well, maybe one day when I'm feeling bored I'll finally give in, sit down and give it a chance, but I don't anticipate that it'll come anywhere close to the standards set by this TV show (for one thing I just can't picture Garfield without Lorenzo Music's vocals). This is, after all, one the finest pieces of animated TV that us kids of the late 80s/early 90s ever had the pleasure of growing up with. And it's not the sort of thing that can be easily repeated.

Grade: A (that's for Garfield, not Orson, mind)

Reality Bites (1994)

It doesn't so much bite as it does nip

[6/10 · 3 April 2005]

Any film striving to chart the up-to-the-minute details of twenty-something life in 1994 was bound to feel a tad outdated the second that 1995 had found its cultural niche. And true, 'Reality Bites' was clearly trying so hard to be hip and with the times that there are points when its characters can seem very distant now (there can't be too many people today who'd consider dancing around a gas station like an unrestrained idiot to be a fitting definition of coolness – nowadays viewers will probably be more inclined to identify with the clerk looking on with bemusement in that scene). Nonetheless, the uncertainties that come with entering adulthood and establishing a steady independent life of your own in the real world will always be relevant issues to young people no matter what the era, so any flick that deals with them has a fair chance of striking a chord with such an audience (being a young twenty-something myself, they're certainly hot on my own mind). Sadly, they never amount to much more here than the backdrop for a familiar love triangle yarn, albeit the familiar love triangle yarn as you've never seen it before. Our lead girl still gets torn between two guys, each from a different rung on the social ladder, only this time round it's actually the down-to-earth businessman making a healthy living for himself (Michael) who's an amiable mass of benevolence, and the laid-back young musician struggling to make ends meet (Troy) who acts like an offhand, self-righteous bully for much of his screen time. That the film still expects our sympathies to lie in the usual places regardless and root for Troy simply because he's the underdog is just the slightest bit galling (let's ignore the fact that Leliana, the lucky heroine who has the honour of choosing between them, is something of a whiny, irresponsible brat herself). Perhaps the only thing more fatal than choosing to go with such a wearisome and predictable formula is using characters that don't even comfortably fit it.

Fortunately, 'Reality Bites' does have a number of small redeeming qualities which come along at just the right moments and may make us intermittently forget that this is all going to be part of something very hollow and routine overall. It's stylish, well-crafted and reasonably entertaining, if you can forgive the occasional patch of cringe-inducing dialogue ("I'm a non-practicing Jew" "Hey, I'm a non-practicing virgin" – dear lord), and Ben Stiller adds life and flair from whichever side of the camera he's on. His debut direction feels surprisingly accomplished, panning the various scenes from a selection of imaginative angles and connecting them together very smoothly, while his character is easily the most likable and understandable of the bunch (too bad he wasn't meant to be). John Mahoney (better known for his role as Martin Crane in the popular sitcom 'Frasier') has a memorable cameo as a disgruntled TV show host, the soundtrack is filled with lots of little audio treats, and the people in the prop department have certainly provided us with plenty of interesting things to look at – it's actually quite fun to watch if you keep your eye out for all the novelty memorabilia that these characters have hoarded; in addition to Michael's beloved Dr Zaius figurine, a Garfield-shaped telephone and a metal 'Charlie's Angels' lunch-box, among others, have made it to the set.

But what really hurts 'Reality Bites' in the end, other than the hackneyed storyline, is just how much depth and substance the protagonists are sorely lacking. Considering that it revolves around a recently-graduated girl determined to demonstrate that she and her friends are more than just shallow Generation X-ers, devoid of any desires that extend beyond having sex and eating pizza, it doesn't exactly do a great deal to convince us otherwise. Most of their time is seemingly devoted to nothing more ambitious than messing around and having spats with each other, while the more serious material, including a subplot which sees Leliana's best friend Vickie awaiting the results of a test for HIV, is downplayed so considerably that you never get the impression that any of them are terribly concerned. The back-stories we hear about rough childhoods of divorced or neglectful parents are equally perfunctory, and the sad fact that Troy's dad is currently dying from prostate cancer is treated very incidentally by the film as a whole - what little is made of it feels more like an emotional blackmail designed to make us feel sympathy for the pretentious Troy than an actual aspect of his character.

It gives us something good every now and then, but overall 'Reality Bites' just isn't strong or satisfying enough to qualify as a coming of age classic (don't even think about comparing it to 'the Graduate', or even 'Risky Business'). While it may go on being fondly-remembered by those who experienced it at the time, on the whole this one feels like it's been rather grounded in 1994, and left with only real claim to fame – and that's that it famously beat 'Pulp Fiction' to the rights to have 'My Sharona' on its soundtrack. With hindsight, it was probably 'Pulp Fiction' who had the last laugh.

Grade: B-

Gremlins 2: The New Batch (1990)

A splendid, entertaining puppet show

[8/10 · 28 March 2005]

How well you receive this sequel will most likely depend on just which aspect of Gizmo's initial misadventure you found more appealing – the eerie, nasty creepiness or the quirky, subversive sense of humour. It was a flick that semi-took itself seriously and semi-didn't. If you loved it for its value as a mild horror movie, then you'll probably be disappointed with its follow-up, seeing as how it pretty much ditches those scares along the wayside and lets the comedic essence run wild and free to its heart's content. But if that's what made the original 'Gremlins' work for you, then you're in for a sequel more than twice as enjoyable as its predecessor. Luckily for me, I happen to belong to the latter group.

Six years on from the gremlin rampage that laid waste to the residents of Kingston Falls, and we're back with Billy Peltzer and those fluffy, bat-eared fuzzballs that turn into vindictive little demons if they eat something after midnight. This time round, the bulk of the action takes place in a high-rise New York skyscraper, run by media mogul Daniel Clamp (a thinly-veiled pastiche on Donald Trump) – an impersonal and overly-automated working environment which it's genuinely fun to see the gremlins have their wicked way with. The screenplay has a sharper, more satirical edge than its forerunner, and makes a good start by openly mocking some of the more ridiculous values that the original 'Gremlins' stood for – Billy's co-workers respond with all the appropriate queries that movie left us puzzling over when he tries outlining the three 'Rules' which must be obeyed to prevent a gremlin outbreak (seriously, what would happen if you crossed into a different time zone?). And Billy's reply is satisfying enough – "Look, I didn't make the rules, okay?"

Plot-wise there isn't really a great deal happening here – the gremlins run amok amongst the building's various facilities, while the humans have to get out safely and prevent them from taking their destruction to further afield. I wouldn't even say their various antics are substantial enough to be considered 'sketches' – what this film mainly consists of is a barrage of individual moments, in-jokes and sight gags which last barely a split-second each (blink and you'll miss about a dozen) but which nonetheless keep on coming so thick, fast and consistently that there's always something on screen to keep us entertained. It also makes the movie as a whole extremely rewatchable, as you can almost guarantee that you'll spot several completely new things you missed on previous viewings.

Zach Galligan still makes for a rather bland and indistinctive hero, Billy's only real point of strength over most of the other characters being that he's dealt with these creatures before and knows how to handle them. Phoebe Cates, Jackie Joseph and Dick Miller have all returned on form, but it's the fresh set of supporting characters, in the Clamp Corporation's employees, who really put their all into snatching the spotlight from the gremlins. Haviland Morris and Robert Picardo both play their parts with the appropriate levels of energy and exaggeration, John Glover makes Daniel Clamp into a surprisingly likable character by portraying him with a vivid child-like innocence, while Christopher Lee comes very close to stealing every scene that he's in, only just losing out to one freakishly articulate gremlin who wears specs and is voiced by Tony Randall.

The puppetry used to render our centrepiece creatures, in both their incarnations, is also a marked improvement over the previous instalment – all the same, their movements may be less jerky and their designs more polished, but the real delight still comes in the knowledge we have that they're puppets. And, instead of trying to make them into convincing, terrifying beings as the original attempted in some of its scenes, it's comfortable to depict them as what they essentially are – depraved, reptilian cousins to the Muppets. They're never scary, and won't have anyone at home screaming as they do the human characters, but they manage to achieve a strong sense of subversive charm in its place that, quite frankly, suits this breed of film much better. Movie monsters were never the same when puppetry became old school and CGI took its place – oh sure, when done right they can look amazingly realistic that way, but they're never as likable and fun. In that sense 'Gremlins 2: the New Batch' was one of the last of its kind, but a perfect swansong for the medium – incredibly silly, but fast-paced, sharply-scripted and gloriously entertaining enough to more than compensate. It comes recommended, especially for anyone who wishes that the rest of the original 'Gremlins' movie could've been more like that wonderful tavern sequence.

Grade: A-