RECENT WATCHES: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem (2023)

From my lofty position as a “geriatric millennial,”  I have seen the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles franchise evolve through far more iterations than I ever expected. After the heady heights of Turtle-Mania in the early nineties, when Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird's scrappy indie comic had become a massive pop culture phenomenon, the series seemed to retreat from the public eye, the way any fad does eventually. By the time the frankly embarrassing "The Next Mutation" was airing, being into TMNT was just about the lamest thing possible. Yet, surprisingly, the Turtles have become one of those kid brands that continuously get resurrected every few years. Since my own childhood, I've seen three new television series and four additional theatrical films join the franchise. The latest of which is "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem," only the second animated film in the series to hit theaters. Fascinatingly, the Heroes on the Half-Shell have gone through just about every step of the reboot cycle, arriving back at the goofy, kid-friendly phase.

Many things change but some elements remain consistent. The turtles always became mutants thanks to a mysterious green ooze. They are always Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, and Michaelangelo. They always live in the New York sewers with their father figure, Splinter the Rat. In "Mutant Mayhem," the boys long to join human society, feeling cloistered by the secretive life style their father insists on. When a villain called Superfly begins to torment the city, the Turtles see their chance to become heroes and be accepted by humanity. This goal gets closer as they become friends with April O'Neil, a teenage reporter determined to crack the Superfly case. Yet the Ninja Teens are shocked to discover that Superfly is, like them, a mutated animal with a whole gang of similar partners. The young heroes must decide if they want to help the villain fulfill his grudge against humanity or fight for what's right.

Not too long ago, I opined that "Into the Spider-Verse"  is one of the most immediately influential films in animation history. "Mutant Mayhem" is the latest entry in the growing list of high-profile projects to emulate that movie's combination of CGI and traditional animation techniques. Here, this manifests as a painterly style, colorful and slightly messy strokes visible on just about every surface and character. The result combines the fluidity of CGI animation with the personality and artistry of hand-drawn works. This invokes the Turtles' roots as a gritty, home-made indie comic. The character designs in "Mutant Mayhem" are lovably grotesque, with bulging eyes, a diversity of body shapes, and innumerable little details and quirks. This universe feels lived-in, a fully realized New York full of gunk and graffiti. The characters have a somewhat sketchy quality to them that feels unique on the modern, big budget animation landscape.

This combination of styles is, naturally, a great fit for some amusingly chaotic action sequences. The highlight of the film is a montage, which breathlessly cuts between the Turtles cracking down on various criminal elements, which represents the animation team truly flexing their muscles. This style lends itself as much to physical comedy as it does thrills though. Another notable moment is a delightfully goofy car chase, set to one of the film's many nostalgic needle drops. (This scene is also the closest we're likely to ever get to a big screen TMNT/Masters of the Universe crossover.) You also see this approach in a close-quarters scuffle in an auto shop, representing the turtles' first awkward steps towards becoming crime-fighters. The peak of this fusion of comedy and action occurs when Splinter – lovingly voiced by Jackie Chan – emerges from his hiding place to help his boys. The resulting scene pays homage to Chan's history as an action cinema innovator in a truly unexpected and fantastically giddy fashion.

What truly differentiates each iteration of the Turtles from each other are how they approach the titular terrapins. "Mutant Mayhem" emphasizes the “Teenage” part the most. The four reptile martial artists long to be accepted, to attend high school like normal kids. They goof around and tell silly jokes. Leonardo harbors an awkward crush on April while Raphael deals with unbridled emotions. In what can be seen as either an obnoxious attempt to make these almost forty year old characters appeal to the modern youths, or a decent leap at updating things, the Turtles are often on their cellphones. They watch Youtube videos. Mikey twerks in one scene. Whether you find modern pop culture references like this – there are many – fitting or annoying depends on your tolerance for zoomer antics, I suppose. More often than not, I thought it was cute. 

If I have any problem with the movie, it's not that the story strays too much from established “Turtles” lore. Instead, I find the script to be a little too linear in its construction. Each member of the cast has a structured character arc. Raph has to learn to handle his rage. Donnie masters his driving skills. April overcomes her fear of being on-camera. Splinter learns to be a better, more open dad. It's all a little too compact and fine-tuned, in my opinion. This even extends to the residence of New York City, who learn a valuable lesson about acceptance in a last act that felt a bit overextended and belabored. 

Still, “Mutant Mayhem” is mostly a highly entertaining motion picture. For long time Turtle Fanatics like myself, there's plenty of nods to the franchise's long history. It's a hoot to see long-loved characters like Mondo Gecko or Wingnut finally on-screen, even re-imagined in these highly new variations. (The former, voiced by Paul Rudd, is especially amusing.) Animation fans are likely to have a good time with this and I imagine kids will dig the fast-paced action and storytelling. Obviously, plenty of breadcrumbs are left for a sequel and, considering the movie's positive reception and decent box office, hopefully we'll get more “Mayhem” soon enough. [7/10]

Director Report Card: Tobe Hooper (2000)

16. Crocodile

There was a time when I watched the Sci-Fi Channel, as it was then known, a lot. I loved “Mystery Science Theater 3000” while Sci-Fi often filled its schedule with old school genre television, classic horror and science fiction flicks. In the early two-thousands, the channel began to change its focus. Soon, the cable network began to show cheaply produced, direct-to-video monster movies over and over again. The special effects in these movies were often pathetic, relying on the shittiest of CGI. Nowadays, the channel’s biggest original movies are the “Sharknado” franchise, showing that this focus hasn’t shifted any. A common presence on the network at the time was “Crocodile.” For some reason, Tobe Hooper directed this movie. His long fall from the horror A-list had finally reached rock bottom.

Brady and Duncan are headed for a wild spring break in Florida. Once in the swamp, they meet up with Brady’s girlfriend Claire and a bunch of other kids. Their week of debauchery, drugs, and booze is interrupted when Claire discovers Brady has slept with Sunny, the loose girl in the group. Meanwhile, a pair of drunken hunters wreck a nest filled with mysterious eggs. Afterwards, they’re killed by a giant crocodile. A local legend, about a croc-worshipping hotel owner importing the reptile from Egypt, is connected with the beast. After the teens stumble upon the nest, the giant critter comes after them. Will any of them survive? Will the audience care?

During the Sci-Fi Channel’s rapid decline around the turn of the millennium, the network frequently showed movies produced by Nu Image. The company would eventually reach a certain level of main stream success by releasing “The Expendables” series. But they got their start producing low budget action schlock like “Cyborg Cop,” “Project Shadowchaser,” and “Operation Delta Force.” In time, the company would branch out into low budget horror schlock, such as “Shark Attack.” “Crocodile” was part of a loose trilogy of singularly entitled killer animal movies Nu Image released in 2000. “Crocodile,” “Spiders,” and “Octopus” were all shown on Sci-Fi Channel constantly. Their sequels – “Crocodile 2: Death Swamp,” “Spiders II: Breeding Ground,” and “Octopus 2: River of Fear” – were also frequently shown. “Crocodile” isn’t the worst of this particular suite of films. That’s “Octopus.” It’s also not the best, which is “Spiders.” (Maybe Nu Image agrees with that, as they bafflingly remade “Spiders” in 2013.) Not that quantifiers like “best” and “worst” mean anything when we’re discussing Z-grade garbage like this. “Crocodile” is still a monumentally shitty movie.

Let’s talk about the titular crocodile first. That’s what we’re all for here anyway, ostensibly. The creature is brought to life through four primary methods. The first of which is good old fashion monster-vision, when the camera assumes the point-of-view of the beastie. The second method is a large fiberglass prop. This one floats in the water but otherwise seems immobile. The third of which is a set of jaws, seemingly without eyes, capable of chomping actors. These are cheap but okay special effects. It’s obvious they aren’t real but, at the very least, they actually look like a big ass crocodile.

The fourth and final method the movie uses to create the title-lending monster is the most questionable. Back in the year 2000, mainstream Hollywood movies didn’t always have decent CGI. Studio produced creature features like “Anaconda” and “Lake Placid,” both of which were undoubtedly huge influences on “Crocodile,” featured digital effects that have aged extremely poorly. So what hope can we have for the computer generated images in a flick made with a quarter of those budgets? The CGI crocodile here doesn’t even appear to occupy the same plane of reality as the human characters. When walking, it floats an inch above the ground. When forced to interact with other objects, like a log or a gas station, the fakeness of the effects become even more obvious. The special effects are so crappy, they become insulting. How could anyone think this looked acceptable, much less good?

Okay, you’d at least expect a low budget horror movie to pile on the gore. Disappointingly, not so much. It’s clear that “Crocodile” was at least partially intended for a television audience. There’s no nudity and all the profanity can be easily dubbed out. As for the gore, it’s pretty meager stuff. We see someone get chomped by a croc, their body disappearing in a splash of blood. When a limb is bitten off, there’s a quick burst of minor blood. We don’t even see a weeping stump or get a gory close-up. The most explicit gag in the movie has a guy getting chomped in half by the croc, with the prosthetic being unconvincing. The lack of proper gore and nudity means “Crocodile” can’t even satisfy the most prurient of horror expectations.

There’s really nothing interesting about the film at all. Except for one, fairly minor detail. Before the crocodile really begins to go on its killing spree, the teens gather around a campfire. Kit, the most responsible of the group, tells a local legend. Apparently, an owner of a near-by hotel brought the crocodile, named Flat Dog for some reason, home with him from Egypt. Once there, he created a cult around the beast, worshiping it as an extension of Egyptian god Sobek. Apparently, the conservative Christian townsfolk were so scandalized by this, they chased him out of town and burned the hotel down. There’s a lot of foreshadowing concerning the dilapidated old building, with discussions about its checkered floors being stained with blood. That would’ve been cool to see, which means it was definitely outside Nu Image’s budgetary boundaries. This backstory suggest that something interesting could’ve been mined from “Crocodile.” Could’ve but wasn’t.

When he made “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre,” Tobe Hooper laid the groundwork for countless low budget horror movies about partying teens stumbling upon murderous terror. “Crocodile” also follows this familiar outline. While the teens in “Chain Saw” could occasionally be irritating, the teens in “Crocodile” are absolutely repugnant. Chris Solari’s Duncan has a stupid hair cut, hits crudely on all the girls, and spends most of the movie screaming profanity. Rhett Jordan’s Foster is similarly vulgar, obsessed with partying. Greg Wayne’s Hubs drinks until he pukes and plays cruel pranks. Sommer Knight’s Sunny, who also has a stupid haircut, is referred to as “that slut,” a character type she plays without subversion. Doug Reiser’s Kit shows a smidgen of self-awareness while Julie Mintz’ Annabelle is obsessed with her dog. They too get involved in the loud-mouth partying. Characters being poorly written is one thing. Making them outright unpleasant to be around is another.

You’d expect the main duo to be more likable. Mark McLauchlin’s Brady and Caitlin Martin’s Claire are at least more sensible then their friends. But only barely. Meanwhile, the movie quickly reveals that Brady cheated on Claire with Sunny. Why? Because he’s a scum bag frat boy, that’s why. When Claire discovers this, she acts coldly towards her boyfriend. Oh yeah, that’s what a shitty killer animal flick needs: Relationship drama. Since the script is utterly senseless, these disagreements soon dissolve into petty bickering and profanity-laced screaming. I hate it when B-movies do this shit. In-fighting, drama, and shrieking swears are not how you endear your obnoxious characters to the viewer.

Naturally, there are some authority figures floating around inside “Crocodile.” Harrison Young’s Sheriff Bowman appears early on, warning the kids not to drink too much. He floats back into the story from time to time, occasionally providing some hope to the teens’ hopeless situation. Along for the ride is a local gator farmer named Shurkin. He has a personal grudge against Flat Dog, who ate his daddy decades ago. Yep, he’s the Quint in this scenario, proving that movies will never stop ripping off “Jaws.” Except Terence Evans is no Robert Shaw. Yes, of course, he gets chewed apart as well. Neither of these character end up adding anything to “Crocodile” at all. Instead, they only make the movie longer.

All right, so the script, special effects, and acting in “Crocodile” are total shit. But Tobe Hooper is a professional who’s been in the business for thirty years. Surely the movie at least looks good? Sadly, not even this holds true. When the crocodile is chasing after the teenagers, the camera often spazs pathetically. This kind of lame shaky-cam effort doesn’t add any intensity or urgency to the movie. Instead, it just makes the movie look like garbage. If you’re hoping to find some of Hooper’s trademark production design, you’ll be disappointed. Most of “Crocodile” takes place outside. The sets we do get are generic backwoods interiors. Even the opening credits are written in a cheap font, further emphasizing how careless a production this was.

There’s nothing notable about “Crocodile.” Does the film have any value at all, even of the unintentional variety? Occasionally. The redneck fishermen who wreck Flat Dog’s nest are so vocally anti-vegetarian that it becomes amusing. The white toy poodle named Princess somehow survives the whole movie. The dog does this by being smarter then the humans and running away from danger. A real laugher of a sequence has the poodle leaping between the crocodile’s snapping jaws. (John Kennith Muir suggest this is an intentional reference to Hooper’s earlier “Eaten Alive.” This time, the director allows the dog to live.) The funniest scene in “Crocodile” occurs where a stupid victim is tossed into the air by the croc and swallowed whole. Soon afterwards, the reptile vomits up the teen. How did he do this? By spraying the animal’s throat with bug spray. It’s gross but so dumb, it makes you laugh. Sadly, most of “Crocodile” is too boring, too obnoxious to produce much unintentional humor.

This nonsense somehow stretches on for 93 minutes. At least the shitty creature features of the seventies and eighties had the good sense to wrap things up in less then a half and hour. I have no idea why Tobe Hooper took a job like this. Did he need the money that badly? There’s no sign of the talented, fascinating, quirky filmmaker Hooper once was in “Crocodile.” It’s the most dire of direct-to-video horror sludge. It’s boring, annoying, incredibly cheap, and totally lacking in charm or sense. The utter contempt the production company had for the audience is clear. They hated the viewer and, in turn, the viewer hates “Crocodile” too. [Grade: F]

Series Report Card: Disney Animated Features (2016) Part 1

54. Zootopia

At first, no one seemed that excited for “Zootopia.” Most people judged the initial trailers as overly snarky, smug, and not that funny. Some made cracks about the characters designs, such as the overly sexualized gazelle. This led to many jokes about the furry fandom. There wasn’t much hype or excitement for the film. Maybe Disney knew what they were doing. “Zootopia” opened to positive reviews, many reviewers surprised by how funny and perceptive the final film is. Continuing the studio’s post-“Frozen” streak of success, “Zootopia” has also been a hit at the box office, breaking records in several territories. As someone who has enjoyed every Disney Animated Feature since John Lasseter took over the animation wing, my expectations were measured but positive for “Zootopia.” Yep, I liked this one too.

Judy Hopps is a rabbit. Like most rabbits, her parents are simple carrot farmers, living in the countryside. Yet Judy has different plans for her life. She wants to become a police officer, helping patrol and protect the citizens of Zootopia, a modern metropolis for animals. Working hard to become the top of her class, Judy achieves that dream. Upon arriving in Zootopia, things are harder then she expected. Being a bunny in a police department populated by large mammals and predators, she faces discrimination. Despite being forced to do grunt-work, Judy uncovers an unusual conspiracy to play the different social classes in Zootopia against each other. During her journey, she encounters Nick Wilde, a fox and a con artist, and develops an unexpected partnership with him.

Reportedly, the eureka moment during “Zootopia’s” development was the premise of animals inhabiting a world designed by and for animals. The titular city of the film is an impressive creation. As Judy rolls into Zootopia on a train, we’re introduced to each sector of the city, made for different animals. There’s a frozen tundra for arctic creatures, a desert area for warm-climate animals, and a rain forest section for species adapted for that environment. Most clever is how the film handles animals of different size. The train has a domed, tall section for giraffes. One part of Zootopia is designed for smaller creatures, such as rodents. While still resembling a modern city as we know it, “Zootopia” invents a funny, clever creation that isn’t entirely like anything we’ve seen before.

Another likable element of “Zootopia” is how it plays within a pre-established genre. “Zootopia” is a buddy cop movie of sorts. As in “48 Hrs.” and many films before, “Zootopia” pairs a by-the-book cop up with a rascally, street-smart quasi-crook. At first, Judy and Nick actively dislike each other. The fox does his best to undermine the rabbit’s mission, back-biting against their perceived partnership. Likewise, Judy frequently, happily calls Nick on his bullshit. However, a mutual respect forms between the two disparate individuals. By the story’s end, Nick and Judy are friends. There’s enough tension between them to suggest a romantic connection, even. Considering there’s never been much of a difference between a romance and the buddy genre, that’s a natural extension. Judy and Nick hate each other, work together, start to like each other, have their struggles, but are inseparable by the end.

“Zootopia” also functions as a surprisingly compelling mystery. At the film’s beginning, Judy has been assigned to traffic duty, slapping parking tickets on cars. However, she soon uncovers a lead in the story’s central mystery. Citizens of Zootopia have been disappearing throughout the city. The only connection between the victims are that they are all meat-eating predators. “Zootopia” does a decent job of disguising its plot points, the audience realizing discoveries at the same time as characters. The eventual circumstances of the mystery – which involve peaceful Zootopians reverting back to their animistic, savage behavior – also pushes this kids movie into some surprisingly intense areas. The last act, which involves illegal chemistry and government corruption, reveals “Zootopia” as a fuzzy, kid-friendly variation on the noir genre. It’s all funny, interesting stuff.

2016 is still fairly young but Judy Hopps is likely to be one of my favorite protagonists of the year. The early scenes establishes Judy’s indomitable drive towards her goals. Her parents, her teachers, and the class room bully all tell her that a rabbit can’t be a cop. But being told she can’t do something just makes Judy work harder to realize that dream. Yet she doesn’t lack doubts. After moving into the city, she finds herself living in a tiny apartment. Before the film concludes, her struggles and self-doubts rear her head. Even Judy wonders if her dream is possible, if she can reach the lofty goals she has set for herself. Ginnifer Goodwin’s voice work is clear, funny, personable, and eccentric.

The second half of the duo is Nick Wilde. Wilde is essentially a con man, making his living performing hustles that straddle the line of legality. His introduction scene has him turning one elephant sized ice pop – which he pointedly did not pay for – into a hundred lemming-sized ice pops. He then turns around and sells the popsicle sticks as timber to a mouse-sized lumber yard. At first, the fox and the rabbit seem on opposite sides of the same systems. While Judy has worked hard for everything she has, Nick is happy to swindle people out of their cash. Yet the fox has an honor system all his own. Better yet, the two compliment each other. Jason Bateman is perfectly cast as the sly canine, his immediately recognizable voice and good-natured sarcasm being an ideal match for the part. 

“Zootopia” has a colorful and memorable supporting cast. Idris Elba brings his exotic but authoritative voice to Chief Bogo, the water buffalo police chief that bosses Judy and her colleagues around. Nate Torrence plays Clawhauser, the dispatcher. Despite being a cheetah, Clawhauser is rotund, due to his fondness for donuts. He’s also effeminate and flamboyant, qualities Torrence has a lot of fun inhabiting. J. K. Simmons' unmistakably growl fits the mayor of Zootopia, a lion. Though a small part, Simmons brings some humor and character to the role. The same can’t be said of Octavia Spencer, a name actress wasted in a bit part as the missing otter’s concerned wife. Tiny Lister, Tommy Chong, and Shakira have cameos playing off their established pop culture personas but these are amusing gags.

Speaking of amusing gags! “Zootopia” is really funny. There are a number of fantastically orchestrated jokes. Easily, the comedic high-light of the film is Judy pursuing a suspect through the smallest part of Zootopia. Watching the bigger animals careen or gently pass through the tiny community produces some fine sight gags. A reveal concerning Nick’s partner-in-crime – who at first appears to be an adorable Fennic fox with an elephant obsession – gets a decent laugh. As does two very different police officers playing around with a pop-star featuring phone app. Another sequence is built around a “naturalistic” yoga club, featuring animals shedding their human-like clothing. There’s an extended joke that is successfully built upon, adding to the absurdity. As a dog owner, a sequence devoted to dogs loosing themselves to howling made me laugh. Quick and amusing sight gags include references to Disney’s recent and upcoming films and an unexpected shout-out to “Breaking Bad,” of all things. Prominently featured in nearly all the trailers is the DMV being run by typically slow sloths. This is a good example of how “Zootopia” caters its world to specific animal features. Despite being heavily featured in the marketing, the jokes still manage to be amusing.

Surprisingly, “Zootopia” isn’t just funny. The film works pretty well as an action movie. The aforementioned chase through the rodent district is as thrilling as it is chuckle-inducing, Judy avoiding several close calls. A chase through the tree tops of the rain forest area generates some effective tension, the heroes dangling for their lives over the jungle canapés. The story climaxes in the subways of the city, the heroes avoiding enemies in the tight confines of a train car. There’s way more screeching breaks and shattered glass then you’d foresee in a kid’s flick. Naturally, it’s all gorgeously animated too. One thing Disney’s most prominent rival – Dreamworks – does really well is combining action and comedy. I’d never expect the Mouse Factory to take something from Dreamworks but, in this case, it was a wise decision.

The element of “Zootopia” that has received the most attention is its not-particularly subtle subtext about prejudice and racism. When Judy comes to Zootopia, she is discriminated against for being a bunny. Despite this, Judy has her own prejudice, which she doesn’t even realize. She makes snap judgements about Nick and the other predators she meets. Some of these are built into her by her parents, others are her own fault. Later in the film, her poor choice of words during a press conference inspires a wave of prejudice throughout the city, enacting mass exclusion and persecution of predators. The villains' plot uses hate and prejudice to further their own goals, pushing the city apart to make themselves more powerful. Reading too much into “Zootopia” probably isn’t recommended. The main characters being cops is probably an unintended parallel with recent events. “Zootopia’ is more simple then that. That doesn’t make its central message – that prejudice pushes us apart as a culture – any less vital.

Not every element of “Zootopia” works seamlessly. A subplot involving the animal underworld, featuring a mob boss that is a vole, retreads some easy jokes about mafia stereotypes. Considering “Zootopia” is coming out against prejudice, using common cultural clichés like this doesn’t help the film. While the mystery in “Zootopia” is compelling for most of its run time, eventually the audience figures things out before the characters do. A reveal, concerning a type of flower, really comes out of nowhere. The climax features the protagonists making some last minute switches that strain credibility for me.

So the script isn’t perfect. However, “Zootopia” has lots of laughs, great lead characters, some thrills, a few surprises, great animation, and a timely moral. Where it falls in Disney’s recent history is harder to guess. The script is less routine then “Wreck-It Ralph” or “Big Hero 6” but the premise isn’t as inventive or heart-felt as either of those films. Still, when a movie’s good, it’s good. I’m happy to see “Zootopia” has connected with audiences, meaning “Frozen”-style princess stories aren’t the only cartoons Disney will be making for the foreseeable future. The variety, quirk, and pure amusement factor “Zootopia” brings to the table can only mean more good stuff in the future. [Grade: B+]

Director Report Card: Don Bluth (1999)

10. Bartok the Magnificent

In the late nineties, direct-to-video sequels to famous cartoons were prevalent. Disney had created a mini-empire releasing cheap continuations of some of their most iconic films straight to the video market. While the quality of these productions were frequently challenged, they were obviously profitable. Fox Animation Studios - having shown themselves to be viable rival to the mouse factory with the gorgeous, popular “Anastasia” - obviously wanted in on this. A few of Don Bluth’s films had produced direct-to-video sequels, such as “Secret fo NIHM II” and the roughly ten thousand “Land Before Time” sequels. The biggest difference between those films and “Bartok the Magnificent,” the DTV “Anastasia” follow-up, is that Bluth had nothing to do with those. Bluth, meanwhile, directed “Bartok the Magnificent.” It would be the only sequel to any of his films he would ever work on.

In the days of royal Russia, Bartok is a traveling entertainer, amusing people with tales of his adventures and daring achievements. He brags about defeating dragons and monsters, none of which is true. Even the bear he fights every time is actually a friend named Zozi. One such performance catches the attention of Ivan, the country’s prince and the Czar in waiting. The boy is seemingly kidnapped by Baba Yaga, the terrifying witch of Russian legend. The royal consul, Ludmilla, sends Bartok on a quest to retrieve him. At least, that’s what Ludmilla tells everyone. Soon, Bartok finds forces working against him.

You might have noticed a word I used in that first paragraph: “cheap.” Disney’s various straight-to-video sequels were never much to look at, compared to their theatrical releases. The animation was usually handled by the same production companies that worked on Disney’s television series. “Bartok the Magnificent,” however, breaks this trend. Just having Don Bluth’s name in the opening credits implies a higher level of craft. The sequel looks way better then it has any right to. The characters’ movements are lively and fluid, with a nice cartoonish edge. The backgrounds are interesting to look at and detailed. The graveyard-like area surrounding Baba Yaga’s cabin is especially atmospheric. While not as lush or gorgeous as the animation in “Anastasia,” “Bartok the Magnificent” is comparable to the underrated work Bluth was doing during the nineties.

How exactly does “Bartok the Magnificent” tie into “Anastasia?” Just barely, is the answer to that question. Beyond Bartok, there are no characters from the earlier film. The film is seemingly a prequel, as it takes place long before the Russian revolution. The Russia shown here seems much older then the semi-modern one seen in Bluth’s previous movie. Prince Ivan is a Romanov, which does little to narrow the setting down. (There were a couple of Ivans in the Romanov dynasty, from the looks of it.) How Bartok lived so much longer then your normal bat, and came to be associated with Rasputin, is not expounded on. In general, “Bartok the Magnificent” has a much lighter, goofier tone then the film it spun-off from. It’s not a romantic fantasy but rather a light-hearted kid’s comedy. Both films don’t have much to do with actual Russian history.

As the title indicates, Bartok graduates from the role of sidekick to protagonist. The comic relief sidekicks have never been the best part of Bluth’s movies, when they’re not genuinely annoying. In “Anastasia,” Bartok narrowly avoided being obnoxious by having a small role combined with Hank Azaria’s mildly amusing work. As a lead, Bartok fares better then anticipated. Though something of a coward, the movie gives the bat enough ingenuity and courage to make him a viable hero. Azaria’s performance, which sounds something like a mangled Jerry Lewis impersonation, somehow never irritates. Basing an entire movie around the talkative bat might have seemed like a dicey proposition but “Bartok the Magnificent” never actively annoys, at the very least.

“Anastasia” used a Russian urban legend to build a lively animated fantasy upon. “Bartok,” similarly, takes a loose inspiration from Russian folklore. An important figure in the story is Baba Yaga. Easily the most prominent figure from Russian fairy tales, and one that’s gained a lot of ground in the last decade, Baba Yaga is a fascinating character. The animated film maintains more of the weirdness of these original stories then you’d expect. Yaga still travels around in a giant mortar and pastel. She still resides in a cabin resting atop chicken legs. The movie references, but never follows up on, her habit of eating children. After some worthwhile build-up, Baba Yaga’s eventual portrayal in the movie is disappointing. She’s portrayed as a typical cartoon witch, casting spells and making potions. Still, it’s a neat idea including the character in the film.

Most of “Bartok the Magnificent” brief 67 minute run-time is devoted to a fetch quest the witch sends the bat on. Considering gathering unrelated items at the behest of some magical being is a common attribute in old fairy tales, it doesn’t feel entirely out of place. First, he most recover a pink talking snake from a snowy mountain top, Secondly, he most retrieve the crown from a buffoonish troll. Lastly, he must gather a magical, golden feather. None of these scenes are especially exciting. Rescuing the talking snake involves lots of slapstick. The sequence with the roll is definitely the low point of the film. During this moment, the film begins to feel like the low-balling kid’s cartoon you might be expecting. The bit with the feather is fairly short-lived and inoffensive.

That so much of “Bartok” spends its time with this quest is a bit of a problem. See, Baba Yaga didn’t kidnap the boy prince. The entire scheme was cooked up by Ludmilla. This is obvious from the minute the character is introduced. Essentially, the movie spins its wheels for the majority of its run time. Ludmilla doesn’t match up to Rasputin. Though the rail-thin character design is interesting, especially the way she spins the tassels on her gown, there’s not much to her. She’s a goofy, indistinct threat. The finale of the film has her transforming into a dragon, which makes for decently exciting conclusion. Ludmilla is voiced by Catherine O’Hara, who brings a certain something to the part. She seems to be having fun, at the very least. There’s not much in the script but O’Hara at least put some effort into the part.

Another clue that “Bartok the Magnificent” might have had a higher budget then most direct-to-video animated sequels is its voice cast. Besides Azaria and O’Hara, the film features a few other notable voices. Kesley Grammer returns from “Anastasia” as an entirely different character. This time, he plays a talking, singing bear named Zozi. Grammer brings the expected refinement and aristocratic feeling to the part. Though the sidekick doesn’t add much to the movie, Grammer’s tendency to drop references to classic literature is amusing. Tim Curry plays the talking skull that guards Yaga’s cabin, speaking mostly in riddles. Curry’s immediately recognizable, sensual brogue adds a lot to a nothing part. Jennifer Tilly’s equally identifiable whine fills the role of the pink snake. Again, it’s a silly part with a wildly overqualified actor bringing more to the character then it requires.

By this point in his career, it’s hard to remember that Don Bluth once directed cartoons without singing in them. The same songwriting team that contributed the wonderful songs to “Anastasia” returned to this prequel. However, the songs in “Bartok the Magnificent” are not of the same caliber. They’re forgettable, truthfully. The opening number, “Baba Yaga,” does an okay job of building up who the film’s villain appears to be. The title song never finds a melody worth humming. “A Possible Hero,” sung by Zozi to Bartok, is probably the best song in the film as it has the most clever lyrics. “Someone’s in My House,” sung by Baba Yaga, features back-up from her talking furniture which is one of the few times I was actually embarrassed during this Report Card. Ludmilla’s big number, “The Real Ludmilla,” is overshadowed by the bizarre transformation the character is undergoing at the time.

Like a lot of underachieving kid’s flicks, “Bartok the Magnificent” has a moral. The titular film begins the movie as a liar and a coward. As the story evolves, he discovers his courage and actually becomes the hero he claims to be. Unlike Bluth’s earlier, better films, which avoided blatantly stating moral lessons, “Bartok the Magnificent” more-or-less lays these things out for the little kid crowd. Though less obnoxious about it then some children’s fair, the tacked-on lesson is mostly unneeded.

All right, now it’s time for the judging. “Bartok the Magnificent” is comedy. Is it funny? The goofy slapstick is too broad to generate much laughter. Though the vocal performance’s qualify as amusing, they never quite translate over to actually funny. I didn’t laugh once during the 67 minutes it took to watch “Bartok the Magnificent.” Is the movie interesting or endearing? The movie’s riffs on Russian mythology is sort of interesting. The relationships between Bartok and his friends are mildly touching. However, even to the younger crowd it was made for, the prequel is likely to be forgotten soon after it is watched.

Before starting this Director Report Card, this is the only Bluth film I had never seen before. I’m not sure how this happened, considering I watched or owned most of Disney’s direct-to-video sequels and was certainly a fan of “Anastasia.” Maybe this just sneaked through the cracks or something. Having seen it now, I can’t say I was missing much. The animation is nice. The voice cast is an unexpectedly good. But the script is unspectacular and the story is nothing impressive. There are far worst films on Bluth’s resume but this is certainly not the most memorable. [Grade: C+]

Recent Watches: The Swan Princess (1994)

Animation was big business in the nineties, thanks to the overwhelming success and popularity of the Disney Renaissance. Many films would appear in the wake of “Beauty and the Beast” and “Aladdin,” seeking to cash in on the public’s apparent demand for beautifully animated fairy tales featuring hit soundtracks. Many of these copy-cat films bombed, even the few that had the professionalism of animation auteur Don Bluth behind them. One such film was “The Swan Princess,” the most blatant attempt to emulate Disney this side of Filmation’s “Happily Ever After.”

Inspired by the ballet “Swan Lake,” the film follows Princess Odette and Prince Derek. The children of different kingdoms, the two are arranged to be married through a ridiculous scheme that has them meeting every summer, in hopes the two will fall in love. Baffling, exactly this happens. Despite loving her, Derek’s shallow appreciation of Odette’s beauty drives her away. Meanwhile, an evil sorcerer named Rothbart with a bone to pick with Odette’s dad, kills the king and kidnaps Odette. He curses her to become a swan, only assuming human form under the light of the moon. Derek prepares to find his love, unaware that of what’s happened to her or who is responsible.

“The Swan Princess” was directed by Richard Rich, a former Disney animated who also made “The Fox and the Hound” and “The Black Cauldron.” Like Don Bluth before him, Rich left the Mouse Factory to start his own studio, attempting to create a glossy look on a fraction of the budget. (Another weird coincidence: Bluth and Rich are both Mormons.) At the time of its release, “The Swan Princess” received some faint praise for its animation. And I suppose the animation is fine. It’s about par with some of Don Bluth’s lesser films. However, there’s something unappealing about the way “The Swan Princess” looks. The character designs are dull. The animation is sometimes stiff. The colors are flat. More then once, the film resembles television-grade animation. It has the crisp lines and painted backgrounds of other cel-animated films but not of the life or energy.

While Rich and his team made some ambitious attempts to copy the Disney look on far less money, “The Swan Princess” is staggeringly unambitious in story and personality. Odette and Derek have one of the least appealing romances of any animated film. Despising each other as kids, they fall in love as young adults… Because they do. Rothbart wants to rule the kingdom… Because he does. Odette has a trio of comic relief animal sidekicks, most of which are incredibly annoying and bring little to the plot. Because that wasn’t enough, Derek has a comic relief sidekick to, in the form of Bromley, a portly guy with a stutter that hangs around him. An especially obnoxious scene has Derek trying to kill the swan, unaware that it's Odette, because of a staggeringly stupid series of coincidences. The movie maintains some of the original ballet’s plot, such as the business with the Black Swan and the prince accepting her nearly killing Odette. That a happy ending is added on isn’t shocking. How sloppy and half-assed that happy ending is… Well, it’s not shocking either. It just speaks to how lazy “The Swan Princess” is.

Somehow, Rich managed to wrangle a decent voice cast into appearing in this thing. I don’t mean Michelle Nicastro or Howard McGillin as Odette and Derek, both of whom are utterly generic. I mean the supporting parts. John Cleese sports a ludicrous French accent as Jean-Paul, a frog who has a ludicrous French accent for no particular reason. Not even a performer as energetic as Cleese, an expert at getting the best out of shitty material, can bring any life to this. Famously dry Steven Wright brings some of his dry charm to Speed the turtle. Wright is one of the film’s saving grace. The script never allows him to be funny but he actually seems to be putting some sort of energy or wit into the part. Most odd of all is Jack Palance, slumming as hard as possible as the villain Rothbart. Just two years after winning an Oscar, Palance brings his famously gravelly voice to the part. Though the character is as thin as can be, Palance at least has a little bit of fun. He is, after all, playing some kind of friggin’ wizard.

Of course, “The Swan Princess” is a musical. The crappy attempt to rip off Disney wouldn’t be complete without some half-assed songs. Hoo boy, are these songs half-assed! The songs frequently feature multiple singers, in a truly odious Broadway style with many characters chirping in. “This is My Idea” is sickeningly long, seeming to stretch on for the entire opening portion of the film. “Practice, Practice, Practice” brings whatever pacing the film has to a total and complete halt, as it moves the plot forward in no way at all. “No Fear” searches hopelessly for a melody. The same could be said of “Far Longer than Forever,” the film’s attempt at a love theme, which also features no memorable lyrics. “Princesses on Parade” is the worst kind of pseudo-Disney shit I’ve ever heard, an achingly lame bit of music. Lastly, the movie makes no attempt to match up its talking voice actors with its singing voice actors. The guy who sings the villain’s song, the utterly embarrassing “No More Mr. Nice Guy,” does not even attempt a Jack Palance impersonation. The songs are bad. The movie is bad.

Like a lot of other attempts to copy the Disney formula, “The Swan Princess” bombed at theaters, only grossing 9 million dollars. Despite this, the film would still spawn a franchise of crappy direct-to-video sequels. (This is in addition to the many other crappy straight-to-video cartoons Rich would make, like the terrible “The King and I” adaptation, some fucking thing called “The Scarecrow,” and the string of sequels to “Alpha and Omega.”) “The Swan Princess: Escape from Castle Mountain” followed in 1997, with “The Swan Princess: The Mystery of the Enchanted Kingdom” coming in ’98. The series made the move to ultra-cheap CGI with the late “The Swan Princess Christmas” in 2012. Baffingly, the series continues to this very day with “The Swan Princess: A Royal Family Tale” being released just last year. Jesus Christ! Who’s watching these things? Not me, I can tell you that. I can’t speak to the quality of the sequels but of the original, I can say this: “The Swan Princess” is swan shit. [3/10]

Recent Watches: FernGully: The Last Rainforest (1992)

Back in the early nineties, we went cuckoo for saving the rainforest. T-shirts, bumper stickers, posters, and even an entire restaurant chain were devoted to the ethos of “Save the rainforest!” Why exactly this craze struck at this time, I don’t know. I suspect it had something to do with the collapse of the Soviet Union and sloths being adorable. But that’s besides the point. One such by-product of the pro-rainforest fad was “FernGully: The Last Rainforest.” As one of the few non-Disney or Don Bluth animated features of the nineties (though frequently mistaken for the latter), the movie was overlooked in theaters back in 1992. As it often the case with cartoons like this, it developed a following on video and continues to have a cult fandom among animation dorks and nineties nostaglists.

On the northern coast of Australia, resides a rainforest. Inside the trees lives a society of fairies, magical creatures with an innate connection with nature and the wildlife. The fairies call the rainforest "FernGully." Millennia ago, the fairies trapped Hexxus, the spirit of destruction, inside a tree. Crysta, a young fairy in-training to become the forest’s newest protector, mostly thinks of the destruction of FernGully as an abstract concept. This changes when she meets Zak, a human working for a company clearing the forest. She accidentally shrinks him down to her size, forcing the human to think about what his work is doing. Meanwhile, the tree containing Hexxus is chopped down, freeing the spirit, who bonds with the hellish de-forestation machine. The evil entity turns his sights on FernGully.

Though many bits of children entertainment carried a “save the rainforest” message in the early nineties, few films were as naked in that objective then “FernGully.” The movie concludes with a message, “For our children and our children’s children.” Clearly, the film was designed as basically pro-environmental propaganda for kids, to indoctrinate the youth of the world with a love of the environment. The movie was a passion project for its producer, Wayne Young, who based the film off his wife’s writing. The movie attracted a star-studded cast, all of whom worked for scale, due to the important message. Because the movie builds this message into its very structure, it’s not too distracting. “FernGully’s” pro-environmental moral comes up fairly organically. The movie has enough adventure and humor to prevent it from being preachy. Okay, it’s a little preachy.

Maybe the reason we were so obsessed with the rainforest is because it's really pretty. “FernGully” matches the natural beauty of the rain forest with its gorgeous animation. Clearly, some money went into the film. The animation is crystal clear but full of detail. The colors are bright. The background are lush. The movement is smooth and fast. “FernGully” is visually quite appealing. The movie looks as good as anything Disney was doing at the time. However, the movie has quirks of its own. The character designs are more exaggerated. Zak and his co-workers are almost ape-like. The colors are a little bolder and a little more strongly defined. Though an untrained eye might make the mistake, “FernGully” looks like its own thing, distinct from the works of Disney or Don Bluth.

Though distinct in style and intention from its more popular rivals, “FernGully” does follow Disney’s lead in one way. The output of the Disney Renaissance prominently featured princesses and the heroic men who fall in love with them. “The Last Rainforest” revolves around a love story too. Zak, one of those assholes who spells his name with only a “k,” enters the world of the fairies with little respect for trees or nature. Immediately, he seems smitten with Crysta, the sexy fairy chick who shrinks him. In time, he learns to respect the environment, even being able to feel the pain of the trees the way the fairies can. Crysta may not literally be a princess but her attitude is similar to Ariel and Jasmine. (Crysta’s dad even resembles Jasmine’s dad.) She’s a care-free teenager who wants to live her life, who feels held down by the responsibilities forced on her. Zak and Crysta fall for each other during a montage, when the two go skipping through a cave together, going for a swim in a puddle. Granted, the movie backs off at full-blown romance, keeping the sexual tension between the two of them unresolved. Samantha Mathis’ vocals work well for Crysta while Jonathan Ward has the right meat-head quality for Zak. A few years later, Disney’s “Pocahontas” would follow a similar story line. Maybe “FernGully” was slightly ahead of its time, in that regard anyway.

As I said, “FernGully” has got a pretty loaded voice cast. Christian Slater, still a relevant star in ’92, plays Pips, Zak’s rival for Crysta’s affection. Cheech and Chong were reunited to voice two of the beetle-riding fairy bikers, one of movies’ most likably nutty aspects. Grace Zabriskie is wonderful as Magi, Crysta’s mentor who delivers the movie’s stirring opening monologue. However, two talents dominate the voice cast. Tim Curry as Hexxus, the evil spirit of destruction, bites deeply into every line. During his musical number, he moans and groans in a way that recalls Dr. Frankfurter. The final act, where Hexxus changes into a cloaked skeleton, positively recalls “Fantasia’s” “Night on Bald Mountain.” Curry is so delightfully villainous that he does the movie a disservice: The forest destroying force is actually one of the coolest characters in the film. The movie also had another ace up its sleeve. Robin Williams voices Batty, a regular animal driven kooky by lab experimentation. (The movie doesn’t go much further into the subject of animal test subjects. It’s so under the radar that, as a kid, it went completely over my head.) Williams’ manic style of comedy is well-suited to animation. His fast-paced dialogue and surreal one-liners makes Batty a genuinely funny comic relief character, who even makes himself useful to the plot. Curry and Williams are probably the most responsible for whatever cult following “FernGully” has.

Another way the film blatantly models itself after the other successful theatrical cartoons of the film is that it’s a musical. As with the voice cast, there’s some big names in the music department. Thomas Dolby, a versatile pop musicians who will forever be associated with “She’s Blinding Me with Science,” wrote most of the songs. “Toxic Love,” Hexxus’ theme, is no doubt the stand-out of the film. Partially because of Curry’s cooing, passionate vocals and the creative animation of the sequences. In retrospect, Robin Williams’ rapping during “Batty’s Rap” is fairly embarrassing but I loved it as a kid. Tone Loc has a bit part as a lizard, who sings the funky number, “If I’m Gonna Eat Somebody.” Weirdly, Jimmy Buffet co-wrote that one. Sheena Easton sings the love theme, “A Dream Worth Keeping,” which is pretty. Elton John contributes “Some Other World,” which plays over the end credits. There’s a memorable dance sequence set to a cover of “The Land of a Thousand Dances.” The songs are all pretty catchy, even if none of them are exactly masterpieces.

I have no idea if “FernGully: The Last Rainforest” will appeal to people who didn’t watch it over and over again as kids. The environmental message is fairly dated. The music, fashion, style, and storyline all paint the movie as very much a product of its time. The animation still looks sleek. The music holds up well enough. The storyline, characters, and performances are all reasonable satisfying. If the film turns youngster into future Green Peace members, I don’t know. But the VHS tape got plenty of screen-time in my childhood. [7/10]

Director Report Card: Don Bluth (1994) Part 1

6. Thumbelina
Co-directed with Gary Goldman

Following the failure of “Rock-A-Doodle,” Don Bluth’s studio imploded. However, at the last minute, the Hong Kong-based Media Assets pumped money into the floundering animation studio, providing the funds for three more movies. At the same time, the Disney Renaissance had begun, the age-old studio finding massive success with glossy, musical adaptations of classic fairy tales. During the eighties, Bluth’s quirky cartoons were released as counter-programming to Disney’s middling work at the time. Perhaps desperate for success, Bluth would directly emulate his biggest box office rival with his next film, an adaptation of Hans Christian Anderson’s “Thumbelina.”

Loosely based off Anderson’s story, “Thumbelina” begins with a childless old woman wishing for a baby. Her wish is granted when a kindly witch gives her a magic seed, which grows into a flower, producing a tiny young woman. Named Thumbelina, she finds the human-sized world awkward for a tiny person like her to navigate. She also dreams of love with a mate her own size. This unlikely dream is fulfilled when a fairy prince appears, the two falling in love at first sight. Thumbelina and Prince Cornelius’ romance is complicated when she gets lost in the world outside her window, encountering a series of creature that may not mean the best for the naïve girl.

In the eighties, Don Bluth made a habit of opening his films against the newest pictures from the reigning king of animation, Walt Disney Studios. “An American Tail” and “The Land Before Time” would surprisingly beat Disney’s offerings at the box office. Bluth’s dominance over his rival was short-lived, as his films grew quirkier and Disney got its shit together. Don obviously wanted some of that sweet Disney Renaissance money. The result is a film that is blatantly derivative of Disney’s popular releases. “Thumbelina” is based on a well-known fairy tale, originally written by Hans Christian Anderson. Anderson had, not coincidentally, also wrote “The Little Mermaid.” “Thumbelina” similarly concerns a magical young woman looking for love. Both characters are even voiced by Jodi Benson! The film’s musical numbers, tone, and even animation are obviously patterned after the Disney house style. The movie even beings with a book opening, containing the film’s story, an often imitated Disney touch. It’s disappointing to see Bluth abandon his own eccentric style in favor of following what was popular at the time.

Blatantly copying the Disney approach may be the least of “Thumbelina’s” problems. The film doesn’t have much of a story. After encountering the Prince, she gets tossed into the big world. There, Thumbelina has a series of run-ins with different characters, until she is reunited with her love. That’s more-or-less it. There’s some brief mention of Thumbelina’s human mother missing her and worrying. However, the movie forgets about that subplot for long stretches. The story is a loose collection of musical numbers and encounters. While most of Bluth’s movies ran under eighties minutes, “Thumbelina” actually runs closer to ninety. The complete lack of pacing and thinnest wisp of a plot makes ‘Thumbelina” feel long and crushingly boring.

Something you could always count on from a Don Bluth production was gorgeous animation. “Thumbelina” looks nice. The backgrounds have the same painted style to them that is seen in all of Bluth’s films. The character animation is detailed and lively, the characters moving fluidly and with personality. However, something about “Thumbelina” is off. The backgrounds are not as detailed or lush. The character’s are obviously rotoscoped off live performances, giving their movements a sometimes choppy appearance. The movie’s animation is still of a high quality but is not up to the standards of the director’s previous works.

Not helping matters is the film’s title character. Thumbelina is not very proactive. She spends the film’s first act, wishing a prince will come for her. Completely by coincidence, a Prince at just the right size for her wanders by. Meanwhile, a completely different set of characters kidnap her, tossing her into an adventure. Thumbelina is thrown from encounter to encounter, not a single one of them motivated by her. The only thing Thumbelina does for herself is refuse to marry a Mole at the end of the movie. Disney Princesses are frequently pushed and pulled by the plot around them but they usually have some sort of defining characteristic. Thumbelina doesn’t even have that. The movie’s main character is a lame duck.

So the romance between Thumbelina and her prince charming is what motivates the story. So surely their love story is worth watching? Not really. Thumbelina and Prince Cornelius fall in love at first sight. I mean that literally. He happens by her window and they catch a glimpse at each other. A few minutes later, both are professing their love for one another. The two spend the rest of the movie searching for someone they’ve known for maybe an hour. The prince is as blandly boring as Thumbelina. Gary Imhoff voices him as a generic hero and he spends most of the movie frozen in an ice cube.

Prince Cornelius is the son of a fairy king and queen. You’d think this would give the movie an oppretunity to focus on the intrigue of the fairy court. We get a little bit of this. We briefly see the fairy king and queen discussing their son’s reluctance to fulfill his princely duties. However, very little time is spent in the magical world of the fae. Instead, “Thumbelina” focuses on the very little girl going on a quest of self-realization. After loosing her love interest for a few hours, Thumbelina looses all hope and decides to marry for money. So she’s low on personality and ethics too.

So what about the group of people she runs into throughout the movie? “Alice in Wonderland,” which the film bares a superficial resemblance too, was almost saved by the colorful supporting cast. “Thumbelina,” however, offers a dull and uninteresting collection of bit players. The story is narrated by Jacquimo, a bird that dresses as a clown and sings with a French accent. His relentlessly up-beat attitude is irritating. A trio of sickening sweet bugs, looking lots like extras in an old Mickey Mouse cartoon, also show up. Carol Channing, just one of the B-list celebs providing voices in the film, plays Ms. Fieldmouse, a shallow, selfishly motivated mouse who has a pathological hatred of the sun. She’s not quite a villain and neither is Mr. Mole, voiced by a slumming John Hurt, the subterranean rodent who almost marries Thumbelina. Considering he’s not painted as an especially bad guy, the movie gives him a bit of a short stick.

Another weakness of “Thumbelina” is that it can't throw together a decent bad guy, something even the crappy Disney cartoons usually manage. Once outside her home, Thumbelina runs into a clan of toads. Portrayed as rather embarrassing Hispanic stereotypes, the frogs are traveling dancers, money-grubbing, and willing to steal to get what they want. They’re led by a matriarch, voiced by Charro of all people. Weirdly, the character is patterned after Charro too. Meaning the frog is busty, with big lips, big hair, sashaying hips, and even “cuchi-cuchis” at one points. It’s the weirdest thing in a Don Bluth movie since he tried to sexualize a chicken. Her grotesque son is the film’s physical threat but far too cartoonish to be intimidating. Meanwhile, Gilbert Gotfried shows up to voice a tap-dancing bug, because Gilbert Gotfried loves money.

The worst part of “Thumbelina,” a film I don’t especially like, is its totally tuneless soundtrack. Since the Disney hits were all musicals, this movie had to be one too. Short of a Tim Rice or a Elton John, Barry Manilow composed the soundtrack. The collection of songs are entirely forgettable. “Let Me Be Your Wings,” the movie’s love theme, is reprised a few times. It might as well be the generic example of a cartoon love song. “On the Road,” the theme of the frog entertainers, features painful rhymes. There’s nothing memorable about “Yer Beautiful, Baby,” the song sung by the dancing bugs, but at least it spares us Gilbert Gotfried singing. The film would receive a Golden Raspberry for the song, “Marry the Mole,” performed by Carol Channing. Though Channing’s nasally vocals are slightly grating, it’s still probably the catchiest number in the film. There are other songs in “Thumbelina” but I’ve already forgotten about them. Manilow’s music varies between entirely unremarkable and utterly lame.

So is there anything I like about “Thumbelina?” Something mildly clever that the movie does is connect its story to the season. As Thumbelina is separated from her prince, the leaves turn brown and autumn starts. As her would-be husband is frozen and she looses hope, winter rolls in. It’s an interesting idea, if nothing else. However, “Thumbelina” even fumbles this element. It progresses through the seasons far too quickly. Minutes after fall begins, we’re already in winter. Spring plops along immediately at the end. If the story is meant to take place over a year, there’s no indication of that in the film. The movie seems to take place over a few days, shoving four seasons into the span of a week.

”Thumbelina” is not a fiasco on the level of “Rock-A-Doodle.” It’s less ill-conceived, mismatched, uneven, and not as weird. But it’s not as interesting as that movie either. The film is incredibly boring. It even managed to bore me as a little kid. Unlike many of Bluth’s other films, which I watched repeatedly as a child, I rented this one once and never felt the need to search it out again. The public was similarly unimpressed. “Thumbelina” grossed 11 million against a 22 million dollar budget, continuing Don Bluth’s string of box office failures. The film doesn’t even have much of a cult following now. It’s more-or-less completely forgotten. The movie feels exactly like what it is: An undistinguished Disney rip-off. Don Bluth is better then this. [Grade: D]

Director Report Card: Don Bluth (1989)

4. All Dogs Go to Heaven

Following their disagreements during the production of “The Land Before Time,” Don Bluth and his team ended their association with Steven Spielberg’s Amblin. The animation company moved to a high-tech studio in Ireland. With funding from Goldcrest Films and a distribution deal with MGM/United Artists, Bluth went to work on a new film. “All Dogs Go to Heaven” was based off an idea the director had been thinking about since “The Secret of NIMH” and was originally conceived as an anthology film. The resulting film wouldn’t be as successful as the director’s previous works, though it found an audience in time. Mostly, “All Dogs Go to Heaven” is notable for being kind of weird. The movie’s mixture of cartoon animals, cute humor, darker content, and heavy thematic ideas makes for a very strange creature indeed.

Set in the late 1930s, the film follows Charlie and Itchy, two dogs trying to make it in this crazy world. After escaping prison in the opening scene, the two return to their old hideout, a casino run by dog gangster Carface. Annoyed by his sudden reappearance, Carface has Charlie killed. Upon arriving in canine heaven, after being assured by his heavenly host that all dogs go to heaven because of their built-in loyalty, Charlie immediately escapes the afterlife, re-inhabiting his body. Teaming back up with Itchy, the two befriend an orphan girl who can communicate with animals and set out on a new con. Charlie slowly grows attached to the girl. He has to keep safe from Carface and his goons, while avoiding eternal damnation for his immortal soul.

“All Dogs Go to Heaven” has the kind of weird high-concept premise that would sadly define most of Don Bluth’s films going into the nineties. The film is about a canine con artist. Using Ann-Marie’s gift of gab, Charlie figures out the clear winners or straight-up rigs horse races, as well as frog and turtle races. What exactly does a dog spend money on? Steaks, bones, and nice clothes for his human friends. The same way “The Secret of NIMH” and “An American Tail” took place in an undetected mice society living alongside man, this film shows the secret lives of stray dogs. There are dog casinos, where the wages are betted and paid in food. There are dog crime bosses, who wear dog clothing and run dog criminal empires. All of this seemingly goes on without humans noticing. This wasn’t a big deal with the earlier two films, because a world of mice is conceivably small enough to go unnoticed. But dogs? Isn’t all of this… Kind of weird?

Telling a story about dogs crooks was apparently not enough for Don Bluth. As the title suggests, “All Dogs Go to Heaven” also details the canine afterlife and the common pooch’s struggle for heavenly redemption. We see the doggy afterlife. Charlie is swept up through a glowing tunnel of bubbles. He meets a heavenly host, a floating pink whippet. Each dog’s life is represented by a clicking stop-watch. By re-winding his watch, Charlie effectively resurrects himself. However, once one leaves heaven, it’s apparently impossible to re-enter. Thus Charlie becomes the first dog damned to hell. He’s not much interested in morality or ethically up-right decisions but, as he becomes aware of his fate, he wonders if he can change his life. These are sort of heavy ideas and questions for a goofy cartoon about talking puppies.

As he did in his earlier movies, Don Bluth doesn’t back away from mature themes much. The dogs gamble. They spend most of the movie gambling, in one form or another. We see pup-worthy craps tables, doggy roulette machines, and literal rat races, which function much the same way as greyhound racing. Charlie gets drunk at one point and the dogs are clearly shown drinking beer. Presumably, the dog drug dealers, prostitutes, and pimps are kept just off-screen. (The movie also sneaks in a joke about “War and Peace,” which is likely to go over the kiddies’ heads.) Moreover, the movie’s bad guy murder Charlie, launching a car down a slope at him. Those same villains kidnap a little girl and hold her captive. Later in the movie, Carface and his sidekick Killer attempt to gun Charlie down. The movie calls it a “ray gun” and cheesy sci-fi noises were obviously added in post-production. But a viewer can clearly identify the device as a tommy gun. This is not the last attempt by the film’s bad guys to murder the movie’s hero. The cute characters contrasts strangely against the film's sometimes harsh content.

Lastly, Carface and Killer are weird villains. Let’s overlook that Carface is a canine crime lord who wears clothes, operates a casino, and smokes cigars. Let’s ignore Killer wearing glasses or operate vehicles. What about the coin-operated kiddy car ride Carface keeps in his den, with rolling footage of a road behind it? Weird. Anyway, Carface is voiced by Vic Tayback, in one of his final roles. The actor brings a lot of gravel and grit to the part of a talking dog. Charles Neslon Riley plays Killer as a stuttering, wimpy, but no less sadistic henchman. Both performances are well within the actor’s wheelhouse. Neither performance is good enough to overcome the strangeness of some of the story choices.

Most of the major characters were clearly written with specific actors in mind. Burt Reynold voices Charlie. Itchy is played by Burt’s frequent on-screen sidekick and Don Bluth regular Dom DeLuise. (The movie even sneaks in a brief part for Loni Anderson, Reynold’s then-wife, as Charlie’s occasional girlfriend.) Charlie is a lovable rogue, with less then honorable intentions, whose smooth way with words can talk anybody into most anything. It’s hard to tell if the dog has Burt’s famous shit-eating grin but the character is clearly patterned after him. Dom’s Itchy is at least different then his parts in previous Bluth films. Itchy is neurotic, focused on the plan, and frequently questions his buddy’s decisions. Dom and Burt apparently recorded their dialogue together and their obvious rapport is one of the clear positives of the film. Is it clever of the movie to clearly base the characters off the actors? Probably not but, eh, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Cast as Ann-Marie the orphan girl is Judith Barsi, the child actress who previously voiced Ducky in “The Land Before Time.” It’s impossible to overlook the sad, disturbing facts. After recording her part, the ten-year-old Barsi was murdered by her physically abusive father, along with her mother. The film is dedicated to her memory. The character of Ann-Marie was physically patterned after her. Ann-Marie’s black hair, expressive eyes, and round face reminds me a lot of Snow White as well. In the context of Barsi’s real life, Ann-Marie’s search for parents become unexpectedly touching. Her unassailable sweetness and goodness, which even brings out the best in a scoundrel like Charlie, is effective. Ultimately his character arc, of learning to love the girl as a pathway towards redemption, is touching. The final scene between the two characters is the only real tear-jerker in the film.

You might have notice that I haven’t mentioned the animation yet. “All Dogs Go to Heaven” is not as beautifully animated as Bluth’s previous productions. The painted backgrounds are not as gorgeous or lushly detailed as those we saw last time. They’re still really nice, which is a more of a testament to how beautiful Bluth’s last few films were and less of a criticism of this film. The character animation remains fantastic. Ann-Marie seems to move like a real person, with a very human expressiveness. While the dogs are cartoony and silly, the human characters all move with a fluid, life-like motion. This is especially noticeable during the central characters’ montage of success. “All Dogs Go to Heaven” doesn’t look quite as pretty as the director’s previous films, which means its still nice to look at.

A big problem facing “All Dogs Go to Heaven” is that it’s a musical. Bluth still hasn’t learned many lessons since “An American Tail.” The song-and-dance numbers in the movie are still distracting and kill the pacing. “You Can’t Keep a Good Dog Down,” which is both Charlie’s establishing moment and main theme, has a repetitive melody. But at least it has a melody, as opposed to the tuneless, wandering “I Want To Be Surprised,” the song Charlie sings in heaven. Especially cringe-inducing is “What’s Mine is Your’s.” The song has the kind of ham-handed moral message – Sharing is fun! – that Bluth usually avoids in his film. It does not advance the plot any, being inserted into a brief sequence where Charlie brings some pizza to a house full of puppies. Ann-Marie gets her own musical number, “Soon You’ll Come Home.’ Though set against a touching series of photos, of the girl imagining what life with a family must be like, the song isn’t very memorable. It’s also obviously not song by Judith Barsi. Mostly, it plays like an attempt to recreate the success of “Somewhere Out There.”

Aside from the implied substance abuse, criminal activity, and murder, “All Dogs Go to Heaven” has one specific scene seemingly designed to traumatize young viewers. Charlie has a nightmare about Hell. Straight-up, fire and brimstone Hell. He falls into a blazing pit and floats on a boat above a river of lava. A demonic creature snorts flames at him, which transform into tiny imps that gnaw at Charlie’s flesh. Reportedly, the scene had to be trimmed in order to gurantee a G rating. It’s still suitably intense and, doubtlessly, one of the most memorable scenes in the movie. A kid’s movie just dealing with concepts like eternal damnation and suffering forever in a pit of sulfur is startling, to say the least. That demonic cat creature returns briefly at the end too, when Charlie’s selfless sacrifice saves his soul from Hell.

It’s fair to say that “All Dogs Go to Heaven” has its share of baffling moments. However, one scene eclipses all the others for sheer what-the-fuck value. While sleeping in a dilapidated light house, Charlie and Ann-Marie fall through the floor boards. They are abducted by a group of primitive islander-style mice, who carry them to a platform in the building’s basement. There, the two are intended to be sacrificed to a giant alligator. However, the alligator is so taken with Charlie’s singing voice, that he launches into a colorful, bright musical number. The scene barely justifies its existence, when the gator reappears at the end to rescue Charlie and stop Carface. However, that moment feels like the bad deus ex machina it is. The musical number with the gator is completely at odds with the rest of the movie’s tone. It contributes little to the story and damages the pacing during an important dramatic moment. The scene in question is so confounding that a page on TV Tropes is named after it: The Big-Lipped Alligator Moment, a scene that appears out of nowhere, confuses the audience, and disappears just as quickly.

“All Dogs Go to Heaven” is incredibly uneven, obviously. The tone is all over the place. The story goes in some strange directions, never totally justifying most of them. The music isn’t memorable, when it’s not out-right bad. However, I still sort-of like it. The characters are fun. The movie can be unexpectedly touching at times. The animation is nice. Opening against “The Little Mermaid,” the movie did mediocre business at theaters before finding a second life on video. It’s popularity among kids would beget a seven years later sequel, a Saturday morning cartoon show, and even a Christmas special. So clearly even a movie this weird has its fans. I, with some reservations, consider myself an non-enthusiastic one. [Grade: B-]