Christmas 2013: December 19

How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (1966)

I’ve spent most of my December Christmas reviews asking if the various established holiday classics deserve to be classics, if they survive for any other reason then nostalgia and pop culture osmosis. Would we be watching most of these specials if they hadn’t been forced down our throats every December? I feel no need to have this conversation when it comes to “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” I genuine love this movie.

The previous decade has seen many attempts to adapt the works of Dr. Seuss into feature length films. All of them have been failures to different varying degrees, from the absolutely wretched “Cat in the Hat” to the just-tolerably-mediocre “Horton Hears a Who.” They all have the same problem. You can’t really fill out a twelve page picture book to feature length without ludicrous amounts of padding. The classic animated adaptation of “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” doesn’t have this problem. Mostly because it’s only 26 minutes long but also because the animators felt no desire to stray from the source material. All the spoken dialogue is taken directly from Seuss’ original book, the majority provided by the brilliantly cast Boris Karloff and his soulful reading of the words. What additional material was added evolves naturally out of the material. The three songs have lyrics provided by the original author while any zany slapstick added contrasts nicely with Seuss’ absurd, nonsense rhyming.

The content is all Seuss but the visuals are purely Chuck Jones. In Seuss’ illustrations, the Grinch looked far more feline. In the cartoon, the Grinch takes on a troll-like appearance, supposedly modeled after Jones himself. The director’s style dominates the half-hour with a whimsical sense of inventive silliness. The Whos come in all sizes, from standard human height to three inches tall. Jones was the right man to bring Seuss’ absurd creations to life, as he realizes the ridiculous toys the Who children play with fantastically. Max the Dog is a minor character in the original story but is transformed into a star player here. His slapstick antics prove highly amusing, either cowering in fear from his cruel master or happily running to the front of the sleigh.

Yet Jones’ interpretation of the Grinch is by far the best aspect. The title character’s evil grin grows and grows, taking over his whole face, his hair parting into devilish horns. His dumpy body and gangly limbs are ill-suited to the role of Santa, a great visual joke. His crooked teeth look like they could literally be the home of termites. He slithers between the presents, gnaws nervously on his nails and generally enjoys his villainy to great degrees. Jones even handles the Grinch’s charitable transformation well, his red eyes switching to soulful blue. The x-ray showing his withered heart growing three sizes is such a simple, brilliant visual clue. Imagine if grown-up movies with real people could get away with visual short hand like that…

It seems the best Christmas fare focuses on finding a deeper meaning in the holiday. There’s no grand standing over the moral. Christmas came all the same, the Whos celebrating family and togetherness, not their awesome toys and present. Of course, “The Grinch” tries to have it both ways with its anti-materialism message, the villain returning the stolen gifts after his change of heart. With the way he’s immediately accepted into Who society, perhaps the message we’re suppose to focus on is one of forgiveness? Maybe I’m reading too much into it. Of all the perennial classics, “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” is the most brilliantly constructed and well done. Maybe, as an act of cinematic masochism, I should watch the Jim Carrey version next year? [9/10]

It’s Christmastime Again, Charlie Brown (1992)

As with any beloved institution, thoughts eventually turned towards sequelizing “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” Of course, “It’s Christmas Time Again, Charlie Brown” came twenty-seven years after the original, after the “Peanuts” specials had cycled through every other calendar event imaginable. A lot had change in those two and a half decades. The “Peanuts” supporting cast had evolved considerably. Iconic pop culture quasi-lesbian couple Marcy and Peppermint Patty had long been added to the crew. Snoopy had gained a sidekick in the form of Woodstock and his army of similarly yellow, chirpy clones. Charles Schulz had even gotten around to adding a token black kid to the group.

The changes those years brought are most evident in the special’s opening minutes. Last seen disenfranchised with the commercialization of the holiday, Charlie Brown is introduced here trying to sell Christmas reefs door-to-door. Good grief. While the animation has improved considerably in the time between, “It’s Christmastime Again, Charlie Brown” is deeply episodic. It’s really, really obvious that the animators just took a bunch of Schulz’ daily comic strips and strung them together. Short scenes play out in an orderly fashion, building up to a simplistic punch line. Such as Linus’ early attempt at cardboard box sledding, Snoopy’s go at charity bell ringing, or any of Marcy and Peppermint Patty’s interactions. Plot lines slowly form. Chuck is selling reefs in hopes of making enough cash to buy the Little Redheaded Girl a nice Christmas present. Meanwhile, Sally, Marcy, and Peppermint Patty get involved in the school’s Christmas pageant, the exact same story the characters were attempting to tell in 1965. The focus is primarily on those duos, Lucy, Linus, and even Snoopy getting pushed to the sidelines, Schroeder, Pigpen, and others not appearing at all.

It’s not that “It’s Christmastime Again, Charlie Brown” isn’t funny. A number of gags pay off nicely. Sally’s more direct attempts to sell reefs, Patty’s reaction to a performance of Handel’s “Messiah,” or the little sister stressing out over her single line of dialogue are all amusing enough. The dialogue is sharp and funny. However, there’s nothing particularly memorable about this one. While the original “Charlie Brown Christmas” had something to say about the season and invoked a deeper meaning to the holiday, “It’s Christmastime Again, Charlie Brown” merely uses Christmas as set-dressing for typical “Peanuts” shenanigans. It accompanied the better made and better known special for a few years before disappearing into obscurity. Which isn’t surprising at all. [6/10]

Batman: The Brave and the Bold: “Invasion of the Secret Santas”

In my brain, Christmas and Batman are inescapably linked. “Batman Returns” was the Bat-film of my childhood, after all. That film’s seasonal setting was probably just Tim Burton indulging in his particular fetishes but the character and the holiday contrast nicely. Christmas is bright and cheery. Batman is dark and brooding. Yet Christmas lights at night are sort of eerie and there’s something vaguely macabre about dragging a dead tree into your home and covering it in lights and shiny metal balls. I plan on reviewing “Batman Returns” for an eventual Tim Burton report card and I’ve never gotten around to buying “Batman: The Animated Series,” which featured two excellent Christmas episodes. So instead I’ve made a habit of watching “Invasion of the Secret Santas,” the Christmas edition of “Batman: The Brave and the Bold,” every December.

Though, if we’re being honest, “Brave and the Bold” is probably my favorite alliteration of the Dark Knight anyway. While there have been many great stories told during the character’s various dark and gritty stages, the campy insanity of the Silver Age is undeniably charming and creative. I also love “Brave and the Bold” for exposing the more obscure corners of the DC Universe to a wider audience. (Not to mention having an OUTRAGEOUS Aquaman.) I’ve always enjoyed Dietrich Bader as well. His deadpan delivery was a spectacular match for Batman, making the character a hilarious straight man to all the wackiness around him while never downplaying his Bat-badassery.

As for the actual episode itself, “Invasion of the Secret Santas” is a good primer for the uninitiated. It displays the series’ keen balance of Silver Age tomfoolery, genuine comedic timing, respect for the source material, character insight, and colorful animation. Robotic hero Red Tornado is baffled by the Christmas holiday and, as part of his quest to become more human, becomes determined to experience the holiday spirit. Since this isn’t “TV Funhouse” and he can’t go out and freebase some Cheer, he instead wears poofy sweaters, covers his house in decorations, sings carols, and gives gifts. (His gift to Batman is one of the episode’s best gags.) Even this isn’t enough to get the robot feeling completely seasonal. Luckily, an evil plot by Toyman expy Funhaus allows Red Tornado, with a little help from Batman, to discover the true meaning of the season.

“Invasion of the Secret Santas” has a nicely subversive, even twisted, sense of humor. When evil robotic Santas attack the city, the heroes are forced to repeatedly explode, burn, and dismember Santa Claus in front of children. In either a funny sight-gag or a clever way to reuse animation, the same woman is caught in three crises, reacting the exact same way each time. The episode slyly attacks commercialism too, since the villain’s plan involves using the season’s hottest toy as a tool of evil. The action sequences are beautifully animated too, such as a ride across several flying saucers, an out-of-nowhere reference to “Santa Claus Conquers the Martians.” Among all the goofiness, the episode even finds time for some heart-warming moments, such as Bruce’s flashback to his own childhood. I wouldn’t call “Invasion of the Secret Santas” one of the series’ best episodes but it’s a good seasonal entertainment nevertheless. [7/10]

Christmas 2013: December 17

A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965)

When writing about “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” I called it the most successful Christmas special of all time. Maybe it is. Even if it isn’t, that raises other questions. “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” is probably the most famous Christmas special, what with it contributing a term to the dictionary. But the most beloved Christmas television special? It’s got to be this one, “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” “Rudolph” and “The Grinch” air every year but Charlie Brown is frequently the highest rated. The film spawned countless other holiday-themed “Peanuts” special, covering everything from Thanksgiving to Arbor Day. The “Christmas” original is easily the most popular and probably the best of the Charles Schulz inspired productions.

I personally think “A Charlie Brown Christmas” has endured for nearly fifty years because it addresses many of the feelings the holidays bring, not just the snowy, candy-cane present-laden happiness. Honestly, Schulz’ comic strip could frequently be incredibly depressing. This is a series that started with two side characters declaring their hatred for the main protagonist. “Peanuts” and its many spin-offs subsist on Charlie Brown’s misery. Why does everyone hate this kid so much? Because he has thoughts in his head. Nonconformity breeds contempt even among children. Charlie doesn’t buy into the crushing cheer of the holiday season. Snow is on the ground, lights are strung on all the trees, and his fellow kids are making up Santa wish list. Yet Charlie just feels a general malaise about the season. Even in 1965, people were fed up with the rampant commercialization of the holiday but that’s not the only reason Charlie is down. Suggesting the melancholy the end of the year can bring, and a search for meaning in the festivities, puts “A Charlie Brown Christmas” on a different level then most other holiday specials.

Which makes it a bit disappointing that the special ends on such a shrug. Charlie Brown is enlisted to direct the local Christmas pageant and unsuccessfully puts up with his classmates’ bullshit. That doesn’t do the trick. Instead, Linus’ monologue about the holiday’s Biblical origin seems to turn the title character’s mind around. His not-really-friends then bond over the adorably shitty tree he’s chosen. So… Is that it? Charlie Brown strikes me as the skeptical type and just reciting the nativity story alone doesn’t seem like it would be enough. I guess there’s only so much ground a half-hour television special can cover. Either way, I like to look at the ending as Charlie Brown coming to his own conclusion about the holiday, finding his own peace with it.

The story’s humor comes from its supporting cast. Lucy is either the world’s youngest hipster, dismissing December snowflakes as too mainstream, or an early example of a young Republican, looking for any opportunity to capitalize on her friend’s misery. She’s also a massive bitch, threatening to punch Linus and charging her friends money to listen to her parrot useless textbook advice. Snoopy was right to take the shit out her meaningless speechifying. Though even Snoopy disrespects Charlie Brown. No wonder he grew up to smack his girlfriend around. Anyway, a lot of the small gags and lines of dialogue are highly memorable. I like Pigpen’s promise to keep a clean inn, Sally’s brutally honest letter to Santa, or Linus’ response to Chuck’s seasonal melancholy. Schulz’ greatest gift, aside from his whimsical artwork, was probably his ability to quickly establish amusing, lovable characters.

The show’s score is rightfully, widely beloved. The jazzy tones and soft, choir music was unique sounding for the day and has never been quite replicated. The animation is cheap, the character design loose and sketchy, the background bland and undefined. However, this winds up creating a timeless feel, since it’s so closely adapted from the source material. It’s easy to see why “A Charlie Brown Christmas” resonates with audience so much, even today. [8/10]

A Garfield Christmas Special (1987)

The most regrettable legacy “A Charlie Brown Christmas” has is that it made comic strip adaptations and holiday specials synonymous. The trend has died down over the last two decades but it used to be every December brought a new holiday-themed special starring a familiar character from the Sunday funny papers. Even Opus the Penguin and Casper the Friendly Ghost took a crack at it. “A Garfield Christmas Special” is far from a yearly classic but it is fondly remembered by a portion of the population. His huge success and hacky writing has made Garfield widely mocked yet the same internet that invented “Lasagna Cat” and “Garfield Minus Garfield” seems to have embraced the fat cat’s various vintage holiday specials.

“A Garfield Christmas Special” is, in particular, way better then it has any right to be. In a strip, Garfield’s sarcastic asides come off as mean-spirited and barbless. In animation, with the beautifully dead-pan vocals of Lorenzo Music behind him, Garfield becomes a sardonic straight man to the upbeat supporting cast. Thom Huge’s Jon is so obnoxiously caught up in the holiday cheer that Garfield’s snide remarks come off less like snarky asides and more like proper reactions. Music’s delivery makes lines that otherwise would have been groaners, like comments about the spicy sausage gravy or the décor of the building, quite amusing. The special doesn’t back away from mocking its hero a few times too, like when the cat gets lost in the snow or awkwardly climbing a tree.

The story follows the expected Christmas special outline. Garfield, as the opening dream sequence displays, only cares about getting as many presents as possible. He’s preoccupied with the “receiving,” not so much the giving. As the story goes on, he, of course, learns the true meaning of the holiday. However, the special goes about this far more subtly then expected. Instead of focusing exclusively on Jon, Odie, and Garfield, the script introduces Jon’s family. His meek brother Doc Boy (Doc Boy?) shares Jon’s child-like enthusiasm for the holiday, best displayed when the two wake up their parents at one in the morning. Jon’s Mom is your typical sitcom mother, cooking an absurd amount of money while being boringly wholesome. Dad Arbuckle is the straight man of the group, reacting to his sons’ antics with agitated bemusement. He is most amusing when forced to read the traditional Christmas story in an overly enthusiastic manner.

Yet the undeniable VIP of “A Garfield Christmas” is Grandma. Perpetual old lady Pat Carroll, best known as Ursula from “The Little Mermaid,” plays the grand mother as more then a little loopy. She sabotages her daughter-in-law’s cooking, arm-wrestles her grandson, and does unexpected push-ups. She immediately bonds with Garfield, finding a kindred spirit in the snarky cat. However, Grandma is more then just a goofy, spry old lady. The special’s best moment, and the scene that establishes its emotional heart, involves the grandmother talking about her late husband’s love of the holiday. Grandpa was a traditional old man, unable to express his feelings most of the time. But on Christmas, a gleeful, child-like wonder shined through. These words always spoke to me especially, since they also perfectly describe my grandfather, gone for many years. It’s a sad, sweet scene and not one you’d expect to find in an eighties Christmas special staring a fat, sarcastic cat.

The music is better then average too, much of it provided by Lou Rowls of all people. “Gimme, Gimme” and “Can’t Wait ‘til Christmas” always stuck out to me. Of course, as is typical of Garfield, no body questions how weird it is that Jon takes his pets with him on a holiday. Or that he talks to his cat like he can hear him. Or that the cat winds up giving the best gift of the night. Goes with the territory, I suppose. The animation holds up fairly well too. So is it blind nostalgia or is “A Garfield Christmas” actually kind of good? Either way, it usually finds its way into my yearly Christmas movie rotation. [7/10]

Ziggy’s Gift (1982)

Somewhere near the bottom of the comic strip-based Christmas special totem pole resides “Ziggy’s Gift.” Wikipedia claims that Tom Wilson’s creation is still being published with tie-in merchandise a-plenty but I haven’t seen any proof of this. It seems the character peaked in popularity during the late seventies and has been drastically dropping off in recognition every since. When mentioned at all today, it’s as an easy target of mockery. Do kids today even know what a Ziggy is? Anyway, in the early eighties there was a cartoon.

“Ziggy’s Gift” seems to be a fairly accurate representation of its source material. Ziggy puts up with a lot of bullshit from a cruel world but his undying sincerity sees him through, exposing the gooey sweet heart in every one. The plot here has the speechless hunchback unknowingly joining up with a circle of con-men, dressing as Santas, ringing charity bells, and making off with the donations. Despite this, the iron pot the con-man gives Ziggy winds up magically producing gifts and money. This magical plot device proves our hero’s innocence to the clueless cop pursuing the crooks and converts a slimy, snake-like pick-pocket.

That saccharine sweetness is most evident though that plot line. Ziggy gives a wad of bills to a group of sidewalk carolers. He produces a scarf for a freezing homeless man. At the end, Ziggy winds up gifting an orphanage with fresh Christmas toys and a brand new pet kitten. This is harmless enough. The special’s attempts at blatant humor are more confusing. Broad ethnic stereotypes seem to be the gag of the day. The police officer is named O’Conner and speaks with the kind of Irish accent that would make Chief O’Hara blush. An Italian butcher selling crates full of turkeys is especially broad. The kind old woman who runs the orphanage speaks with a large German accent, a stereotype I was previously unaware of. Some of the more surreal asides are even more off-putting. Store front displays, like a mechanical Santa Claus or choir of singing angels, malfunction in wild, borderline creepy ways when faced with the overwhelming sincerity of Ziggy’s magic pot.

Even Harry Nilson’s theme song, “Give Love Joy,” is sappy and lazy. I mean, I don’t hate “Ziggy’s Gift.” I watched the damn thing all the time as a kid and return to it every December. The animation is kind of pretty, I’ll give it that, and the whole thing is weirdly hypnotizing in its visual and sound design. Still, I’m shrugging. [5/10]

Director Report Card: Peter Jackson (2013)

13. The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug

I can’t recall the last time a major nerd event like “The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug” was met with such resigned duty. No one was excited about “The Hobbit,” a simple story, getting bloated to three long films, stretched out over three years, with a total run time in the nine-hour range. Despite these reservations, we’re all going to see “The Desolation of Smaug.” I liked “An Unexpected Journey,” in spite of the excessive padding. Even then, I approached part two of this unnecessary trilogy with a weary sigh. It’s December. Must be Middle Earth time.

I knew there’d be a bunch of extra double-long bullshit stuffed inside its two hours and forty minutes but I was looking forward to “Hobbit II: Bilbo Harder” for one reason. The motherfucking dragon. Give me a bad ass giant dragon, Peter Jackson. As its subtitle promises, “The Desolation of Smaug” does indeed get to the dragon. Eventually. First, the hobbit and his dwarf friends have to navigate a labyrinthine forest, battle some big ass spiders, encounter stuck-up elves, duel orcs while rolling on the river in barrels, encounter more political hand wringing in a floating human city, and angst out about a key that may or may not work.

All still that isn’t enough to occupy an epic run time. The second “Hobbit” film double-downs on extraneous subplots. Gandalf spends almost the entire film separated from his friends, instead investigating the soon-to-be resurrected Sauron. The orcs that was so important last time spends this film hanging in the margins, building their army. Sort-of beloved fellowship member Legolas shows back up for some action theatrics. His would-be elf girlfriend gets stolen away by the most handsome dwarf. That plot line continues into the third act, two of the dwarfs stranded in Lake-town, one of them dying from a poisoned arrow. Not to mention political conspiracies involving the townsfolk. All of this distracts from the truly exciting stuff involving Smaug. Whatever movie, with your necromancers and boring romantic shenanigans. Just get back to the awesome dragon.

Man, that dragon is awesome. Smaug is, with little question, the best realized dragon to ever grace the silver screen. The film conveys the scale and sheer size of the creature exquisitely. Smaug takes over the entire theater screen. Hobbits, men, and dwarves are tiny next to his claws and eyes. His wings summon up gale force winds. The dragon’s fire is illustrated as a truly destructive force, spraying out as hot, molten lava. A fantasy troupe I’ve always liked is the talking, intelligent dragon. Up until now, that concept wasn’t represented in live-action film. Smaug is actually quite verbose. He mocks and toys with Bilbo, enjoying watching the little creature squirm. The dragon is arrogant, greedy, and proud, qualities befitting any human. Though Benedict Cumberbatch’s voice is digitally altered beyond the point of recognition, Smaug is still a fully formed character. Amazing to look at and interesting to watch, the dragon is, in many ways, a more layered person then any of his human co-stars.

While “The Hobbit: The Book” was a kid-friendly adventure fantasy, “The Hobbit: The Trilogy” has to fit uncomfortably within the epic action film parameters of his mother franchise. It starts out fine enough. The encounter with the giant spiders is well orchestrated. Though not as impressive as the dragon, the huge arachnoids are similarly detailed with a little personality of their own. I love their chattering, nervous language. Bilbo and the dwarfs swinging around webs, stabbing giant spiders left and right is exciting enough to hook you in.

After that, sadly, the film’s action falls into a predictable formula. Legolas and Tauriel slide into scene like video game sprites, jumping around in stylized fashion. During the river chase scene, the elf jumps around on dwarf heads, slashing and shooting enemies. Decapitated heads, axes, and hairy bodies are tossed into the air. Sure, it’s cool to look at. Yet it feels exaggerated compared to the previous trilogy’s more grounded combat. At times, it’s as if the filmmakers are repeating “Look! Legolas is still a badass! LOOK AT HOW BADASS HE IS!” The elves are even shoehorned into the last act. Thorin got an arch-enemy last time with Azog. Legolas gets one too, an orc bruiser he sword fights in Lake-Town. Why is this shit in the movie?

How about those cancerous subplots? Gandalf does time in his own storyline, wearily investigates tombs and castles, occasionally throwing balls of light at monsters. This subplot climaxes with a belabored showdown with the nearly reborn Sauron, a ludicrous battle of light and shadow. Occasionally, Ian McKellen’s natural charm slips through but he seems mostly depressed and bored.

The elves are even worse. Evangeline Lily is fine, charming even, as a character invented solely for the movie, looking all the world like a gender bent Link. The love triangle between her, Legolas, and Kili is especially forced in, an appeal to romance-crazed fan girls. The political upheaval noticed in Lake-town is blatantly inserted to extend the conflict, keeping Luke Evan’s blandly handsome Bard occupied while more important shit happens to more important characters. This becomes a major issue in the scrambled last act, the other story lines constantly interrupting the more interesting dragon related business.

Smaug is so brilliantly created and such a justified threat that you’re willing to overlook some minor quibbles. The dragon looks great, even if that CGI melted gold looks weirdly fake. The way the dwarves distract the beast is silly, occasionally slipping into the film’s bad habit of overdone action. Still, it works, the intensity building, Smaug getting more and more pissed off. He flies towards the water-set city, determined to burn it to the ground, the audience’s excitement at peak level. And then… It ends! Just when the film is getting really exciting, it ends! To be continued, see you next December. Peter Jackson, you tricky motherfucker.

Aside from its non-ending and bloated screenplay, the biggest sin “The Hobbit Strikes Back” commits is relegating its title character to a supporting role. Martin Freeman’s exasperated reactions were frequently the best part of “An Unexpected Journey.” Bilbo is shifted aside in favor of other characters, Freeman mostly replaced by his CGI double. Yet, even with the sharper focus, the dwarves are still sketchy outlines at best.

Peter Jackson’s direction can be overdone, focusing too much on 3D eye-gouging, the camera swirling around in CGI assisted ways. Even the score isn’t as good as last time, only hinting at the richer, deeper themes used in part one. But… That dragon. Man, he’s awesome. I’m trashing “Desolation of Smaug” more then it deserves. The whole time you’ll wish this was the last half of a duo and not the middle chapter of a trilogy. Yet when it works, it works exceptionally well. Maybe some day, we’ll get a proper, abbreviated cut of the whole series, no filler, just the good parts. [Grade: B-]

Christmas 2013: December 12

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964)

It’s not really Christmas without Rankin-Bass. The studio’s stop-motion animation specials have been playing yearly since the early 1960s. None of their programs are more iconic then their very first, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Many of the studio’s specials have been forgotten and overlooked but “Rudolph” gets a plum time slot every year. You can never predict what bits of holiday debris is going to wind up being a perennial classic. But why “Rudolph?” What makes this one so much more important compared to the other Rankin-Bass products? My most recent re-watching, one of a hundred probably, might have revealed the answer. This cartoon is kind of weird.

You don’t notice the weirdness at first. Like many of the Rankin-Bass specials that would follow, “Rudolph’s” story is framed by an omniscient narrator, voiced by a slightly washed-up musical celebrity of the day. In this case, Burl Ives as the folksy Sam the Snowman. The story embellishes on the widely beloved song while hitting all the expected notes. Rudolph is born with a freakishly sunny nose, one that gets him ostresized from his friends and family. This same deformity winds up making a star of Santa’s sleigh team come an especially foggy Christmas Eve. The special packs the margin between those two story beats with a lot of unrelated nuttiness. An elf who wants to be a dentist? An eccentric prospector looking for gold in the Artic? An Abomniable Snowman pissed-off for undefined reasons? An Island of Misfit Toys, overseen by a flying lion king? What the fuck does this have to do with a shiny-nosed reindeer? If the special wasn’t so famous, and so inseperatably connected with the original song, I think people would question how odd a lot of that is.

Okay, so some of the weirdness is right there on the surface. My personal favorite element is the neurotic Santa Claus, too nervous to eat, forced by his nagging wife to pack on the pounds, disinterested in the traditional Christmas shenanigans. You wouldn’t think a holiday could be cancel because of the weather but I imagine this Santa Claus was probably looking for an excuse. The Island of Misfit Toys is an especially whimsical touch, though I can’t see any kid turning their noses up at a spotted elephant plushy. Yukon Cornelius is probably the most honestly amusing thing about “Rudolph,” his clueless blustering providing a lot of entertainment. His sled dogs being made of tiny breeds like a dashaund or a poodle is a cute visual joke. It’s endearing characters is probably the real reason “Rudolph” has stayed afloat in the pop culture sphere for so long.

But that’s not the weirdness I’m talking about. The hour-long special is concerned with outsiders and goes to, sometimes, unintentionally hilarious lengths to make this point. As far as birth defects go, a shiny nose doesn’t seem especially deforming. Don’t tell that to Donner, who is chastising his son minutes after birth, or Rudolph’s couch or classmates, who mock him mercilessly. Even Santa is horrified by Rudolph’s red nose. Similarly, Hermie’s desire to practice dentistry is met with aghast, exaggerated horror. (Though maybe his reaction is because stuffed animals with teeth are terrifying.) The point is: Every authority figure in this kid’s program is a total ass. Maybe it’s just this modern viewpoint of mine but I can’t help but pick up on some unintentional commentary on prejudice. Hermie and Rudolph are rejected by their society for being different and immediately find a kinship with each other. And what’s the first thing the effeminate Hermie does upon meeting Rudolph? Mount him. Later, the two share a bed together. That’s taking it too far but I couldn’t help but notice. Clarice’s parents disapprove vehemently of her relationship with Rudolph, much like how you’d expect a Southern family to react when their daughter brings home a black boy. And, much like in real life, the Santa society has no interest in Rudolph until his deformity proves useful, an unusually honest lesson to teach kids.

I know I’m reading too much into it. “Rudolph” probably endears because of its colorful characters, ear-worm-y music (even the numbers that have little effect on the story), and the charmingly stiff animation and character designs. The humor is undeniably corny, the story predictable, and, even at only an hour, the pacing drags a little in the middle. Still, you can’t watch something every year of your life without finding something of note in it… [6.5/10]

Invader ZIM: "The Most Horrible X-Mas Ever"

“Invader ZIM” was, for a while anyway, the reigning animated cult classic. Canceled after a season and a half for skewering closer to teens then Nickelodeon's target seven-to-ten crowd, the show posthumously found a following among mall Goths and animation nerds. At one point, like half of the shit Hot Topic sold was devoted to the show, even with it being off the air for several years. Despite still beautiful animation and an enormously talented voice cast, the show hasn’t aged the best. At its worse, “Invader ZIM” is unbearably shouty and random-for-random’s sake. However, when the series was good, it was delightfully odd, packed with unexpected meanness and bizarre pop culture parody. “The Most Horrible X-Mas Ever,” the series’ final episode and holiday special, is a good example of that prevailing attitude.

The episode’s premise starts out with a familiar outline before heading off in an expectantly oddball direction. Fish-out-of-water, would-be alien conqueror Zim hears about Christmas and Santa Claus for the first time, devising a scheme that takes advantage of the world’s love of the holiday. After sucking Christmas info out of a mall Santa’s brain, he creates a bio-mechanic Santa suit and sets about earning the world’s love, all in order to teleport the masses back to his alien home world. As his plot comes unusually close to succeeding, series anti-hero Dib finds himself in the position of having to save the world by destroying Santa Claus and ruining Christmas. For those unfamiliar with “Invader ZIM,” this is a fairly typical set-up.

The best parts of “The Most Horrible X-Mas Ever” is the sheer amount of inappropriate shit Jhonan Vasquez and his writers sneaked into this. The episode features not-really-subtle-at-all jabs at Christianity. Santa “returns to his people,” direct quote, to bring hope and cheer. The world follows him mindlessly, so desperate to believe in anything that they don’t notice their supposed Santa is, obviously, a malevolent alien from space. The episode goes even further, Santa-Zim’s flag featuring a candy cane swastika. The hero being forced to destroy Santa with a missile-spewing giant robot is subversive enough but his mad scientist dad comes prepared with an anti-Santa arsenal, preparing for years to destroy Santa and Christmas. The episode even throws in blatant references to decidedly-not-kid-friendly subject matter like “Neon Genesis Evangelion” and, hilariously, David Cronenberg’s “The Fly.” The expected plot line of Zim’s Santa suit absorbing too much Christmas cheer and turning good even goes dark, with Santa becoming a giant, spider-like eldritch abomination… Which bleeds cranberry juice upon defeat. This is amazingly fucked-up for a kid’s series.

Among Zim and GIR screaming incoherently, there is some truly inspired absurdity. The most memorable moment involves the fascist Christmas Carol, “Jolly Boots of Doom.” There are small, hugely amusing bits like Zim’s recollections of inventing the suit, someone being imprisoned in a candy cane “Jingle Jail,” and the futuristic framing device of a grumpily dead-pan robot snowman. Richard Horvitz’ typically fearless vocal performance turns a number of tiny lines, like “Oh yeah!,” into total hilarity, while Andy Berman and Rodger Bumpass have fun screaming their lungs off. It’s a funny episode and nice counter-programming to your usual Christmas fare. It’s a shame Jhonen Vasquez is such a misanthropic, hateful prick and has done nothing but collect residuals from this show over the last decade. In a time when “Adventure Time” can become a pre-fab hit, the world is finally ready for “Invader ZIM.” [7/10]

Christmas 2013: December 9th

For years now, I’ve been wanting to do a Christmas movie month-long marathon, much like what I do for Halloween during September and October. I don’t love Christmas as much as I love Halloween. Truthfully, there aren’t many things I love more then Halloween. However, much like everyone else, there are certain films, holiday specials, and TV episodes I try to watch around December. I do this because I’m brutally committed to holiday traditions but also because it helps me get in the Christmas spirit. Like just about every adult, I imagine, Christmas is a holiday fraught with regrets. Over not enjoying the holiday as much as I did as a child, over the end of the year coming and not accomplishing many of the things I had hoped to. There’s not a lot I can do to change this but I try to get in the festive mood, some years more then others.

Halloween is mainly an excuse for me to indulge my love of horror movies even more then I normally do. I watch a lot of different things. Christmas, on the other hand, is a month for revisiting perennial classics. The holiday isn’t complete without seeing certain films. Because of this, my little marathon is unlikely to be reoccurring. It's also going to be nowhere near as planned out as my Halloween marathon. Don't expect daily updates. (Though I'll try.) Still, it’ll be a way for me to observe why Christmas means as much to me as it does and to write about and expound on some classic and not-so-classic yuletide entertainment.

The Snowman (1982)

There are a few Christmas holiday specials I love unconditionally and have for years. I’ll be talking about a lot of them this December. Maybe more then any other, at the top of my list of beloved Christmas classics, is “The Snowman.” Let me pause for some tedious autobiographical information. As a very young child, at some point, I acquired a tape of Christmas specials recorded off of television. Even though this was technically seasonal watching, I would watch the tape incessantly all throughout the year. Featured on this tape was “The Snowman.” How a program produced for British television wound up on the same VHS as the “Garfield” Christmas special or “Ziggy’s Gift,” I couldn’t tell you. What I can tell you is that, according to both parents, I would sit and watch the short in total rapt silence, mesmerized for twenty minutes.

It’s no wonder why. “The Snowman” is incredibly beautiful. The film is completely without dialogue, instead relying on music and images. The film begins with Raymond Briggs, the author of the original comic that is faithfully adapted here, walking across a field, talking about a magical winter of his childhood. From there, the picture transfer to animation. The film’s animation is elegant and fluid, like a painting moving to life. The colors are subdued, the scope wide and sweeping. The characters are minimalistic and simple, marking the story as an archetypal one that could happen to any little boy. Visually, it’s still a spellbinding experience.

The opening narration, the only spoken dialogue in the film, refers to the winter as dream-like in its stillness. Similarly, the story operates on a dream-like logic. There’s no explanation for why the snowman the boy built during the day springs to life at night. The boy accepts it at face value and so should the audience. Smiling and curious, the Snowman explores the home. Favorite moments, ones that have stuck with since I was little, include the Snowman replacing his nose with other fruit in the kitchen, having a relaxing sit in the large chest freezer, and dancing around the boy’s bedroom with his favorite teddy bear. The only scenes that might have you questioning the reality of the situation is how the parents are awoken by the commotion, especially when the boy and the Snowman sneak into their bedroom, the Snowman trying on the father’s suspenders and bifocals.

A midnight motorcycle ride across the snowy forest might raise some questions too, if it weren’t so beautiful to look at. The point-of-view shots of snow-covered trees rolling by are tranquil and haunting, as is a sudden appearance by a fox. This sequence is build-up for the film’s most notable moment. Looking to the sky, his smile turning into a calm realization, the Snowman grabs the boy’s hand. They make a running start before leaping into the air. The two fly across the night sky, joined momentarily by other magical snowmen, flying above a Christmas party, sleeping children, confused penguins, and an enormous whale. The sequence plays out against the song, “Walking in the Air.” The combination of haunting melody and flowing, gorgeous visuals had a profound effect on me as a child. It continues to be impressive. I always remember the film ending with this sequence. It’s not that the visit with Santa Claus that follows is forgettable. It’s actually quite charming, especially when the boy and his Snowman join a dance of snowmen from all over the world, representing other cultures. It’s just that the flying scene is so memorable, so outstanding, it obscures the rest of the film.

“The Snowman” is more then just a Christmas special. Unlike most seasonal programs, it acknowledges the bitter sweetness of the holiday. The ending recognizes the joys of childhood as short-lived ones. The sun comes up the next morning, the boy discovering the Snowman’s melted remains. However, just before the credits roll, he removes the scarf he received from Santa the night before, confirming the events as actual. The playfulness of childhood might be temporary but we can always revisit it in our memories. The credits are preceded by a title card saying “The Snowman Was.” Obviously, this is simply setting up the directorial and creative credits. However, it always spoke of something else to me. “Was,” past-tense. It’s gone now. “The Snowman” was nominated for a short film Oscar the year it was released. I don’t know what it lost against but I can’t imagine that film is anywhere near as good. “The Snowman” is essential Christmas viewing for me. The season can’t really start without it. [9/10]

TV Funhouse: "Christmas Day"

Completely shifting gears, here’s an episode of an obscure, short-lived, gleefully offensive TV series that frequently engaged in bad-taste-for-bad-taste’s-sake humor. Ostensibly a demented parody of ancient children’s programming, the series followed clueless kid show host Doug and his band of badly behaved quasi-realistic animal puppets, peppered with pop culture-parodying cartoons and unrelated comedy sketches. Bestiality, religion, sex, drugs, cannibalism, masturbation and coprophagia were common subjects. Sometimes, I wonder if series creator Robert Smigel didn’t have a glance into my brain. I felt that way as a twelve year old in 2000 and I feel that way now. The show’s mean-spirited mixture of debauchery, absurdity, puppets, and loose pop culture skewering is such a unique style, and one so much like my own, that I can’t help but wonder if Smigel is a time-traveled displaced version of myself or something.

“Christmas Day” is one of the best episodes of the series, a consistently hilarious bit of irrelevant holiday awfulness. The story revolves around host Doug coming home to the clubhouse full of holiday cheer. The AniPals, always sensing an opportunity to make some cash, strap the all-too-willing Doug down and (painfully) extract the “Cheer” from his spine, paralyzing the guy. After getting incredibly high on the cocaine-like Cheer, they turn around and sell the substance, leading to a debauched sex party. The lasting effects of the drug interrupt their traditional Christmas day activities rather horrifically. You probably figured out if this show was for you halfway through the third sentence of this paragraph.

What’s the most hilarious moment in “Christmas Day?” There are so many. The show-within-the-show short segments are well remembered and this episode’s “Tingles, the Christmas Tension” is a brilliant parody of vintage Christmas programming as well as, all too accurately, illustrating the anxieties of the holiday. I also love the brief bit, “Places to Look for Your Christmas Present,” which is a good example of this show’s particular strain of absurd humor. However, my heart belongs to the AniPals and their antics. The puppets, hopped up on holiday cheer, go around New York, badgering what I can only hope were real people with the most belligerent, unhinged versions of Christmas carols imaginable. The reaction from these normal folks to a bunch of animal puppets screaming in their faces is divergent and hysterical. One man smiles, bemused, standing and taking it. One Asian couple walks away, smiling in awkward confusion. Another man tries to turn the moment into a religious sermon but is shouted down. Some simply turn and walk away, the AniPals screaming at the cowards in rage. All of this is cut with the animals performing a rendition of the Bangles’ “Hazy Shade of Winter.” It is, in as few words as possible, art.

There’s more too. The clearly artificial AniPals frequently interact with very confused seeming real animals. Because a puppet lamb shitting on someone is much less funny then a real life lamb shitting on someone, completely unannounced. The drug-fueled sex binge that follows is fairly amusing but the next day is even better. Still tripping balls on Cheer, a sheep puppet goes to his gig as a mall Santa, which ends with him mistaking a (real life) kitten for a delicious sprout of grass. Or how about goose Jeffy going to his kid’s Christmas pageant, screaming obscenities in the church? Or his brief encounter with a bearded version of his future self, a hilarious bit that has to be seen to appreciate? Or Xabu the Dog, always on a manic quest to capture his own tail, lulling the tail into a false sense of security by watching the most traumatizing part of “It’s a Wonderful Life” together? Or Doug’s attempts to decorate the clubhouse, despite his sudden inability to feel his legs? I could go on and on. “TV Funhouse” was a special, uniquely deranged television series, too good for this fair Earth. There might not be a more demented episode then “Christmas Day.” I will never stop loving it. [9/10]

Series Report Card: Disney Animated Features (2013)

52. Frozen

Animation is more of a business now then it’s ever been. Every month, a new CGI cartoon is crapped out, many of them unmitigated shit. Witness last month’s “Free Birds” and next month’s “The Nut Job.” In this increasingly crowded market place, how does Disney get their Animated Features to stand out? The most iconic of animation studios still has one ace up their sleeve. Nobody has the claim to animated adaptations of classic fairy tales like Disney. Other studios either have to parody the classics, like in the lucrative and increasingly mediocre “Shrek” franchise, or are dismissed as imitators to the throne. This is why “Tangled” was an event while “Wreck-It Ralph” or “Winnie the Pooh” were (unfairly) overlooked. As a life-long lover of Disney’s traditional adaptations, I found myself far more excited for “Frozen” then someone my age perhaps should be.

“Frozen” started life as an adaptation of Hans Christian Anderson’s “The Snow Queen,” an adaptation of which Disney has been kicking around since 1943. It spent so many years in rewrites, turn-around, and development hell that the final product resembles the original story in only the barest way. The story centers on two sister princesses, naturally, of a Norwegian-inspired kingdom in a vaguely 19th century time period. Anna is a normal little girl while Elsa was born with the ability to control ice and snow. After an accident involving her powers, the older sister withdraws from her life. Even further after the king and queen die. (Naturally.) After a life time of withdrawn, Elsa on her coronation as queen looses control of her power in public, retreating to a shelter in the mountains, forcing Anna to go after her. A love story involving a prince, a pauper, and at least two comic relief animal sidekicks (Naturally!) follows.

“Tangled,” which “Frozen” is blatantly modeled after in its character designs and style, distinguished itself from previous fairy tales with its focus on humor and action-adventure. “Frozen,” perhaps more interestingly, instead subverts conventions in its story. The film does feature a love story between a princess and a prince, as well as a villain. However, the movie isn’t really about either of those things. Instead the focus is squarely on the relationship between the two sisters. Anna’s love for her sister and Elsa coming to grips with her isolation and self-loathing are what drive the story. Even when the two split apart, Anna reaching out for her sister’s love is what informs the entire film. In a time when women’s role in pop culture is under more focus then ever, this is an especially bold, logical move. It roots all the comedy and high-level hijacks in an emotional truth. More importantly, both are lovable characters. Anna is clumsy and awkward, making her relatable and likable. Elsa, meanwhile, has a character arc that the viewer quickly becomes invested in.

Another clear influence “Tangled” had on this film is in its love story. The relationship between princess-on-an-adventure Anna and simple ice farmer Kristoff is model obviously on Rapunzel and Flynn Rider’s relationship. The two band together strictly out of necessity. They snipe at each other with sarcasm. However, as their adventure goes on, a bond is formed. Neither exactly realizes how important they are to each other until a key moment at the end of the second act. The characters have a nice chemistry, even if voice performers Kristen Bell and Jonathan Groff don’t have the repor that Mandy Moore and Zachary Levi had in the latter film. Certainly more so then Anna has with Prince Hans, her other love interest, which turns out to be intentional. Thankfully, the film doesn’t play up a cheap love triangle and it also knows when to shift the focus back to the two sisters.

But what about the humor and action-adventure? Ever since “The Little Mermaid,” every Disney Animated Feature has to have at least two comic relief animal sidekicks. Here, we get two. Kristoff has his reindeer Sven which, like “Tangled’s” Maximus, acts a lot a dog. Kristoff and the creature play each other nicely, the man frequently voicing the animal’s thoughts and concerns. Sven is cute and all but is quickly overshadowed by the film’s other comic relief, Olaf the Snowman. The character is voiced by Josh Gad, whom I’ve never particularly liked, always considering him a louder, more obnoxious Jonah Hill. However, Olaf turns out to be a brilliant comedic device. A snowman who loves summer and the sun could have been a one-note joke. Instead, Olaf is most characterized by his unfailing optimism. When walking through a giant ice sickle or attacked by a giant snow monster, Olaf remains upbeat and happy. Gad frequently delivers his line in a hilarious deadpan manner. The character’s status as a snowman allows him to be gleefully dismembered, which proves a surprisingly durable comic device. Olaf is a lovable, inspired critter and one of the film’s best elements.

The big action set pieces emerge organically out of the material, while also being exciting and memorable in their own way. Which is all you can ask for when it comes to action scenes. A sled chase from a pack of wolves humorously reflects on our characters’ personalities while placing the camera directly at the front of sled both involves the audience in the scene and makes great use of 3D. The big fight with the ice golem is nicely orchestrated, making good use of the film’s visual scope. The finale, a race across a crumbling ice lake, is certainly exciting stuff, especially when a shifting, crashing ship is involved. Maybe “Tangled” made better use of its action scenes but “Frozen” certainly shows the Disney team evolving when blending genres.  

What I’m most pleased about concerning the newest wave of Disney features is that so many of them are openly, undeniable a musical. If there’s one thing where “Frozen” is obviously inferior compared to its immediate predecessors, it’s the music. The songs are written by Robert Lopez, famed songwriter of ribald Broadway hits “Avenue Q” and “The Book of Mormon,” and Kristen Anderson-Lopez, who also worked on 2011’s “Winnie the Pooh.” The Lopez duo writes in a conversational style that frequently characterizes Broadway musicals… That I don’t like. Instead of the songs being solo numbers, the cast of “Frozen” sing dialogue back and forth a few times. It takes a minute to get use to and is sometimes deployed awkwardly, “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” being the most obvious example of this. The lyrics are sometimes awkward as well, trying too hard to squeeze in wacky, comedic one-liners. The biggest mistake a musical can be is songs that don’t advance the plot. “Frozen,” disappointingly, suffers from this. Olaf’s number “In Summer” is cute but derails the story. Even worse is the number from the Norwegian trolls, “Fixer Upper,” which stops the plot dead in its place. It even winds up costing the characters precious time. It’s not a bad number but probably should have been excised.

Anna’s “I Want” theme “For the First Time in Forever” and romantic duo “Love is an Open Door” are fun. They don’t stop the plot, are perfectly listenable, but aren’t hugely memorable. The only time the music of “Frozen” really comes alive is Elsa’s big solo number, “Let It Go.” And, oh man, is that one awesome. It’s a first time Elsa comes out of her shell as a character, breaking loose for the first time. The music is uplifting and powerful, even the overly simple lyrics not distracting from the strength of the song. Idina Menzel not only sings the songs fantastically but incorporates her performance into the music. The audience is as uplifted by the number as the character is. The Academy notoriously goes for the big love ballads but Disney seems to be, rightfully, positioning “Let It Go” as their Oscar-favorite, given pop star Demi Lovato’s over-the-credits rendition. If the AMPAS known what they’re doing, they’ll agree.

Not quite a year ago, I predicted that the icy, snow-covered landscapes of “Frozen” would look gorgeous in full CGI on the big screen. Yep. “Let It Go” proves a stand-out for another reason. During the sequence, Elsa raises her ice palace from the mountain side. The clear, angled ice emerging from the snow sure looks pretty. That shimmering, crystal clear ice proves visually lovely, something the film takes full advantage of. Frozen fountain waters and crystal chandeliers prove especially memorable. Naturally, sympathetic weather is a reoccurring feature of the movie. The snow storm at the climax stands out for me, the characters appearing as specks among the huge walls of white. Animated films continue to be the sole sure-bet for 3D viewings and Disney knew that. “Frozen” looks beautiful and the depth of the frame are especially well-suited to 3D presentation. The amusingly-meta, fourth wall breaking CGI Mickey Mouse short, “Get a Horse,” that precedes the film does too, characters literally running around towards the audience.

You’re likely to see the conclusion to “Frozen” coming but, at the very least, the film earns that emotion. A likable cast, lovely visual presentation, and great sense of humor makes the film a pleasant viewing experience. The story attempts to push Disney forward into new territory, and mostly succeeds, which is film’s biggest attribute. It’s not quite as good as “Tangled” or “Princess and the Frog.” However, it’s another good effort from the Mouse Factory. John Lasseter-era Disney continues to make good films, doing their best to reestablishes the studio’s legacy. [Grade: B+]

Director Report Card: Guillermo del Toro (2013)

8. Pacific Rim

Guillermo del Toro has a unique position as a filmmaker who is beloved by fan boys all over the world but also critically respected by the mainstream film press. He can make an Oscar-nominated masterpiece like “Pan’s Labyrinth” and then turn around and crank out a light-weight, action-heavy comic book flick like “Hellboy II” with ease. After years of pre-production work on “The Hobbit,” truthfully always a rough fit for del Toro’s style, amounted to nothing, the filmmaker immediately went to work on his most fan boy friendly project yet. “Pacific Rim” is a big budget Hollywood popcorn muncher that smashes together two of Japan’s most endearing contributions to pop culture: Giant monsters and big ass fighting robots.

Perhaps the director’s most important skill is his ability to construct believable, fully-formed worlds on-screen. “Pacific Rim” successfully creates a world as detailed as anything out of Tolken within its opening montage. Giant monsters from another dimension have invaded Earth, uprooting society as we know it. In response, the nations of the world band together to build giant piloted robots, called jaegers, to fight back the invasion. That would be enough for most films but “Pacific Rim” is just getting started. The first several creatures are beaten back, the world adapting, changing. We see jaeger pilots become celebrities, the kaijus transformed into children show mascots, both slapped on shoe commercials. Life continues, even when in peril. The world of “Pacific Rim” is a lived-in one. Slums are built out of the bones of the giants, their huge open skulls becoming doorways. All the metals have a rusted, aged quality to them. While this world is recognizable as our own, it is entirely its own beast. Long-running cinematic universes have been built on less then this.

No aspect of “Pacific Rim” is more brilliantly thought-out then its central components, the monsters and the robots. I’ve been a fan of kaiju, the genre and the creatures, my entire life. “Pacific Rim” contributes some truly memorable addition to the kaiju canon. Within minutes, the film establishes the pure scale of these monsters in a way rarely recognized. Fighter jets slink between the massive arms, people dwarfed under foot. I love suitmation but it doesn’t exactly allow for the detail and sense of size seen here. Despite being created with CGI, the creatures have a weight and personality to them.

Which kaiju is my favorite? It’s hard to choose. Each one is brilliantly designed. Knifehead is patterned after the goblin shark, one of nature’s strangest creatures. His ferocity is vividly displayed with snatching jaws and massive claws. There are other notable creatures: the ape-like Leatherback with his organic EMP, the alien-alligator combo Raiju, the final boss Slattern, a mash-up of a hammerhead shark, an octopus, and a dinosaur. However, one inches above the rest. Otachi moves like a sea dragon, her tail whipping around, a snapping claw on the end. She sprays acid, her tongue splitting open at the end. Of the several “holy shit!” moments throughout “Pacific Rim,” none impressed me more then when the fearsome female monster took flight. I didn’t see that one coming. My only complaints about the creature design is the overlaying grayness of each monster. Otherwise, these kaiju can stand among Toho or Daiei’s best.

Of course, the kaiju is only one half of the film’s clash. Standing up for humanity are the jaegers, the humongous fighting robots created to battle the creatures. Naturally, the machines aren’t as cool as the monsters. However, their designs are as well thought-out and detailed. Each jaeger is massively different from one another. Cherno Alpha’s giant nuclear silo gives it a blocky, heavy appearance. Crimson Typhoon is aerodynamic, its hands topped with giant saw blades, its body rotating on a pivot. Everything about it is modern and smooth. Each robot represents its country in a strange way too. Cherno recalling the solid, strong Russian mountains, Typhoon resembling a swift, striking dragon. Striker Eureka’s sails and blades seem to be modeled after the world famous curves of the Sydney Opera House. And who stands in for America but the big blue Gipsy Danger. It’s the jaeger with the most standard body type, reliable and uniform. The dome-like head and sloping shoulders remind me of a football quarterback. The jaegers might be smooth and shiny on the outside but, inside, they are pure del Toro creations. The director’s love of clockwork gears and intricate, folding devices is most obvious in the meticulously detailed cockpits of the machines. 

The creativity displayed in the film’s creature and mech design also applies to its approach to action. There are only, truly, three battle sequences in the film. The first is intimate and intense, designed to put the audience in the pilot’s place, at the mercy of a giant monster’s roaring jaws. The centerpiece of the film, the three-way fight in Hong Kong, is “Pacific Rim” at its best. Here, del Toro adopts an animated, frenetic style, much of the action composed like moving comic book panels. A second kaiju leaping from the waters gets a great reaction from an audience. Gipsy is tossed across the city in full-view, coming to its feet in mid-roll. The sense of fun and excitement is most obvious in a tiny moment when the robot’s fist tears through an office building, stopping just in front of a desk nik-nak. The reveal of the sword is another nerd-boner inducing moment, coming when the excitement is at peak level. The creativity is displayed at the end as well, when a kaiju is split straight down the middle. Throughout it all, del Toro never looses track of its character inside the chaos. Even with all the incredible action, the most thrilling moment might be a flashback to the beginning of the war, a monster reaching for a helpless little girl in a tight, cramped alleyway.

One of “Pacific Rim’s” biggest issues is that it’s actually too awesome too soon. The film peaks early at the end of the second act. After the incredible airborne battle through Hong Kong, the grounded, deep sea finale can’t help but disappoint. The final minutes of the film engages in some cheap third act dramatic ramp-ups. Characters’ lives are put in peril, the hero intentionally waiting far too long to save himself. The plan is overturn at the last second, the characters forced to improvise a way to save the world. There’s nothing necessarily wrong with ancient screenplay tricks like this. “Pacific Rim” partakes in time-tested clichés throughout. The story ultimately boils down to two mismatched partners coming to appreciate each other, the buddy cop scenario writ large. A respectable authority sacrifices himself, but not before giving a rousing speech, straight out of “Independence Day.” I’m not complaining, just noting that after such an exciting first 110 minutes, those final twenty come off as slightly underwhelming.

There’s giant black hole in the middle of “Pacific Rim” preventing it from attaining true classic status and I’m not talking about the giant interdimensional rift. Charlie Hunnan plays Raleigh Becket, the film’s protagonist. Raleigh has no defined character arc of his own. The film begins with him loosing his brother, a massive emotional lost. The story leaps ahead five years later. Becket, at first, seems to have become a bitter, disillusioned man in the wake of his grief. You’d expect him to learn to love again through his partnership, right? Nope. Instead, Raleigh turns a page almost immediately, instantly deciding to take Rinko Kikuchi’s Mako under his wing. All of Becket’s character development seems to happen off-screen. Who’s to blame, screenplay or performer? I’m inclined to lay the blame at the feet of Hunnan. His performance is flat and uninspired, Hunnan carrying little emotion in his voice. His attempts at macho tough-guy posturing are tiresome and unconvincing. It’s a good thing the rest of the film is so captivating and exciting because its lead hero is a total bore.

Perhaps to make-up for its hunk of wood hero, the film’s supporting cast is packed with colorful, memorable actors. Kikuchi winds up carrying the story’s emotional wake. Her quest of revenge giving way to acceptance and love proves far more interesting then Hunna’s non-entity. Idris Elba has the rather thankless task of speaking the script’s cheesiest dialogue. He pulls it off with ease. Charlie Day brings the manic comic energy he regularly displays on “It’s Always Sunny” to his role, standing in for every hardcore nerd in the audience. He has great chemistry with Burn Gorman, playing the kind of part that would have ideally been filled by a twenty-years-younger Jeffrey Combs. Finally, del Toro stalwart Ron Perlman brings his effortless attitude to a hilarious supporting role, a minor mob kingpin who seems to have step right out of a Takahiro Omori anime.

Though obviously pitched at mainstream audiences, “Pacific Rim” is definitely a fan boy film. The various homages and callbacks to its influences will be lost on most viewers but are deeply appreciated by folks like me. The kaiju are clearly inspired by earlier giant monsters. Knifehead recalls Guiron, one of Gamera’s most memorable enemies. The briefly glimpsed Onibaba is souped up version of Ebirah, the giant lobster that vexed Godzilla once. Otachi’s movement and design was obviously influenced by Cloverfield, Rodan, Gyaos, and the Xenomorph. Raiju also owes something to Giger’s signature creation, with his double jaw. Finally, Leatherback might be the film’s most subtle homage. He is a literal Godzilla. For those unaware, Godzilla’s Japanese name, Gojira, is a combination of Japanese phrases for gorilla and whale. “Pacific Rim” presents us with a literal aquatic gorilla. I might be reaching on that one but I imagine it was intentional. The references even extend to the score, as a very familiar sounding series of musical notes play right before the final kaiju’s introduction.

The jaegers recall giant robot anime of different types. Each design is a variation on a basic build, bringing to mind the Gundam universe. Gipsy’s hand-canon is the type of finishing move used by any number of robotic heroes. Most obviously, Gipsy, like Mazinger before it, has a rocket punch. (Or should that be a ROCKETO PUNCHI?!) Yet, the biggest influence has to be “Neon Genesis Evangelion.” The premises, giant robots build to fight giant invading monsters, are comparable. Instead of synching with the souls inside of the robots, the pilots have to synch with each other. Instead of the suits and scientist hanging out in the GeoFront, they hang out in the Shatterdome. Mako’s page-boy haircut, streaks of blue included, slyly mirror Rei Ayanami’s. Hell, the movie even throws in a giant robot in a crucifixion pose. Considering an American-made, live action “Evangelion” movie was considered at one point, I’d say this is a best case scenario. An “Eva” movie would have boosted everyone’s age and dropped the weird religious and Freudian aspects anyway. Here, we get to enjoy all the awesome stuff guilt-free, without sacrificing what made that series special.

“Pacific Rim’s” box office performance was heavily discussed upon release. The internet was hugely excited for this film, aware of its director pedigree and story influences. Yet the general public shrugged it off as a “Transformers” rip-off. While this would deter American movie-goers, who pluck down billions of dollars for the next “Transformers” piece of shit, I do not know. Despite cheer-leading from critics and fans, the movie bombed domestically. (And in Japan too, because that country has lost its way and no longer cares about giant monsters.) Surprisingly huge business in China has created some talk of a sequel but I doubt it’ll see the light of day, due to del Toro’s increasingly busy schedule and apathetic studio brass. Most Americans might not crave something equally original and beholden to classic sci-fi but I do. “Pacific Rim” isn’t del Toro’s deepest film but it is one of his most buoyantly entertaining. [Grade: A-]

Thus ends Catch-Up Week, which actually stretched out for 17 days. What better why to end this little excursion then with an excessively detailed, three-page long review of a movie everyone else stopped talking about four months ago? (I might have went a little overboard with the links...) Even if it went wildly off-schedule, as all things do here at Film Thoughts, I consider Catch-Up Week to a be a success. Looking over at the Director Report Card side-bar there and realizing it's truly complete and hole free satisfies my obsessive-compulsive tendencies nicely. At least until the next time I fall behind and have to do this sort of thing again.

Anyway, I'll be back soon with some seasonal updates. Hopefully.