Tag Archives: animated movies

Exit Light, Enter Night

In Your Dreams

by Hope Madden

The delightfully juvenile humor that propels much of the new Dreamworks animated film In Your Dreams entertains. It also amplifies the tension between tween big sister Stevie (Jolie Hoant-Rappaport) and little brother, Elliot (Elias Janssen).

If the perfectionist eldest sibling is going to somehow get her parents to stay together, the last thing she needs is Elliot and his foul-smelling stuffed animal Baloney Tony (Craig Robinson) getting in the way.

But naturally, when Stevie makes a wish to find Sandman and make her dream of a happy family come true, somehow Elliot gets himself involved. Now Stevie can’t make her way through dreamland to find the Sandman without her pesky little brother.

In that way, In Your Dreams is sort of the Predator: Badlands of the grade school set.

Though the computer-generated animation is sometimes disappointing, the movie’s chaotic energy and humor while our heroes work toward finding the Sandman—plus a fun, splashy bit of hand drawn animation— are a blast. It’s during these dream montages that co-writers/directors Erik Benson and Alexander Woo (who write with Stanely Moore) are most inspired. It’s also where we get to spend the most time with Baloney Tony, easily the film’s funniest character.

As dreams of life among happily animated breakfast foods turn rancid under the influence of Nightmara (Gia Carides), In Your Dreams runs through a fun, funny, and often insightful set of dream sequences set to appropriate and fun needle drops.

The film’s themes are compelling and often insightfully rendered, and the storyline itself bears originality sometimes lost in family films. But once we finally reach the Sandman, the look, feel, humor and imagination seem to disappear. We build and build to Sandman, but he and his castle are bland and forgettable.

In Your Dreams never fully recovers, most of Act 3 feeling like a quick and easy escape route from the otherwise clever conceits in the plot. There are definitely laughs and fun sequences, but you may forget this one as quickly as last night’s dream.

If I Cannot Inspire Love, I Will Cause Fear

Stitch Head

by Hope Madden

Is there anything more delightful than an animated tale suitable for Halloween? A Nightmare Before Christmas, ParaNorman, Frankenweenie, The Corpse Bride, Wendell & Wild, Coraline, Mad Monster Party­—each one is a fun way to get spooky, with the kids or without.

Steve Hudson extends that list with Stitch Head, a delightful, animated story about embracing your inner and outer monster.

Stitch Head (Asa Butterfield) was the first of the Mad Scientist’s creations. But the creator’s ADHD gets the better of him pretty quickly, and Castle Grotteskew is soon full to brimming with monsters. These include today’s beast, Creature (Joel Fry). Stitch Head’s taken on the eldest child duties around the castle, which includes helping each new beastie adjust their monstrous natures to avoid upsetting the townsfolk below. Don’t draw attention to yourself and you can avoid the angry mob.

“Welcome to almost life,” Stitch Head tells each new monster. “Patent pending.”

The film, especially Nick Urata’s music, certainly conjures Tim Burton. The songs Are You Ready for Monsters and Make ‘em Scream are both dancy fun, but neither are Elfman level memorable. Stitch Head lacks that macabre flavor of a Burton. Castle Grotteskew’s residents feel more akin to the working stiffs of Monsters, Inc. They’re nothing to be afraid of, they’re just different. Which is the point.

There’s also a bit of Pinocchio as Stitch Head, seeking the love he’s not receiving from his negligent parent, leaves the castle in favor of the circus, and finds—as we all must—that capitalism blows.

Butterfield’s delivery and Hudson’s animation create a tender central figure you root for. Fry’s big-hearted performance—plus Creature’s zany design—balance the delicate, tightly wound Stitch Head to create a sweetly peculiar odd couple.

Based on Pete Williamson and Guy Bass’s series of kids’ books, written for the screen by Hudson, Stitch Head delivers fun, eccentric characters, a warm adventure, and genuine lessons about the joys—even the necessity—of nonconformity.

“Just be whoever you’d be if you weren’t afraid.”

Boldly Gone

Elio

by Hope Madden

Few films, animated or otherwise, breathe the rarified air of Pixar’s best. The animation giant has turned out an alarming number of outright masterpieces: Toy Story, WALL-E, Up!, Toy Story 3, Inside Out. Their second tier is better than nearly every other animated film you’ll come across. The originality, humanity, and visual magic on display in these films is so superior to anything else out there, it becomes an almost impossible standard to bear.

Pixar’s latest effort, Elio, tells the sweet story of a lonesome orphan who wants desperately to believe that “we are not alone.” Elio inadvertently casts himself as leader of earth and invites aliens to abduct him. They accept.

Elio’s writing team includes Julia Cho, who penned the charming Turning Red, and Mike Jones, whose Soul rightfully took 2021’s Oscar for Best Animated Feature. The directing team includes Turning Red’s Domee Shi and Coco’s Adrian Molina. That’s a solid team, one fully aware of the wondrous possibilities of animation and family friendly storytelling.

And they do tell a lovely story. As Elio (Yonas Kibreab) finally finds a friend in galactic warlord Grigon’s (Brad Garrett) son Glordon (Remy Edgerly), he also realizes that he might have liked his Auntie (Zoe Saldaña) more than he thought.

Once Elio is space bound, the film brightens. The inhabitants of the Communiverse are delightfully oddball. There’s brightly colored fun to be had. But Act I doesn’t dig deep enough into Elio’s relationship with his auntie to give the film real stakes, so the emotional center that creates the Pixar gravitational pull is never as strong as it is in their best efforts.

The story beats also lack the freshness of the best Pixar has to offer. Still, a first-contact film that retails a childlike wonder about what lies beyond the stars without resenting what waits at home is a rare thing.

Hunting Season

Predator: Killer of Killers

by Hope Madden

In 2022, director Dan Trachtenberg reinvigorated the Predator franchise by taking the story back in time and investing in character. Prey (especially the Comanche language dub) unveiled thrilling new directions for the hunt to take—directions Trachtenberg picks up with three short, animated installments in Hulu’s Predator: Killer of Killers.

The anthology moves between three different earth-bound time periods: Viking conquest, feudal Japan, and WWII. Each short is focused on an individual warrior—one whose cunning and skill draws the attention of a predator on the hunt.

While the overall animation style can be tiresome, there are sequences that impress, even wow. This is not a kids’ cartoon. There’s carnage aplenty, and when it’s at Ursa’s (Lindsay LaVanchy) hands, it’s nasty business gloriously rendered.

The first and best installment, that of Ursa the Viking, packs the screen with visceral action and memorable characters. It also hits on themes of family, loyalty and vengeance that Trachtenberg and co-writer Micho Robert Rutare return to in the second installment. Here, Samurai brothers do battle with the beast, before an alien invader sets his sits on a cunning young mechanic turned fighter pilot in WWII.

Each story boasts a quick, engaging, violent narrative that adds a bit of fun to the canon. The wrap up, which enshrines these individual tales into a larger mythology, feels cynical and uninspired by comparison.

Credit Trachtenberg, along with co-director Joshua Wassung, for continuing to push the IP in new directions. But the Predator series has long understood its flexibility and shown a willingness to experiment. Some of these experiments (Prey) have worked better than others (Alien vs. Predator: Requiem). But most of the efforts have been, at the very least, entertaining.

Predator: Killer of Killers likewise entertains. And it fills the gap between 2022’s top tier Predator effort and Trachtenberg’s next adventure in the series, due out later this year.

Stinking, Thinking and Saving Lives

The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie

by Hope Madden

I am not what you would call a Looney Tunes fan. Writer/director Peter Browngardt and co-writers Kevin Costello and Alex Kirwan (along with a writing team of at least a dozen) clearly are. Their animated feature The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie delivers looney adventures that are hard to deny.

Essentially an odd couple buddy picture, the film follows Porky Pig and Daffy Duck as their live progress from youngsters with their beloved Farmer Jim, to adults with a problem. On the one hand, the problem is the hole that alien space pod left in their roof.

On the other hand: ALIEN SPACE POD?!!!

Though a bizarre tone and a wild variety of animation styles entertains, the film’s a tad slow moving at first. But once the bubblegum monster shows up, things get pretty fun.

Eric Bauza voices both Daffy and Porky without losing any of the character that made the two popular in the early going. Daffy, that chaos agent, is delivered with the love and lunacy necessary not only to do justice to his long history of animated disruption, but to serve a real narrative purpose. Because Porky, upon meeting the weird but efficient Petunia Pig (Candi Milo), begins to crave the kind of life you can have without a buddy who uses an oversized mallet to solve problems.

Browngardt makes sure you’re emotionally conflicted. That’s pretty impressive, really.

But mainly, he and his animation team make sure you’re entertained with clever sight gags, surprising humor, fascinating animation, and a fun B-movie vibe.

It gets weird, this one. But when the chips are down and the gum zombies are chewin’, these two will rise to the occasion.

And Hustle

Flow

by Hope Madden

Have you felt recently like the world as you know it has changed irreparably, everything around you is dangerous chaos, and those who were once family are no longer reliable so you have to kind of cobble together a new tribe or go it alone?

Cat knows your pain.

Gints Zilbalodis’s stunning animated film Flow follows the solitary feline through a lush world where it does what it can to remain aloof and alone—fleeing other creatures, particularly those rambunctious dogs, to find its quiet spot in the top floor of an empty home. The time period is unspecific but ancient, the attention to detail magnificent, and the animation breathtaking.

A flood is coming, and this little black cat will have to work in tandem with a handful of other strays—one capybara, a lemur, a secretarybird, and a dog—in an abandoned boat to survive the rising tide.

There’s no dialog and precious little anthropomorphism to be found. That may sound like it could keep an audience at arm’s length, but quite the opposite results. The surprisingly natural, primal behavior of the animals, particularly in peril, gives Flow an anguished kind of thrill that is gripping.

The animals have personalities in keeping with their species (the capybara can’t be bullied or bothered; the lemur collects and covets shiny things; the dog is big, dumb and friendly) and Zilbalodis gives over to magical realism sparingly.

The animals’ surroundings, even in moments of catastrophe, are rendered with such care and beauty they almost conjure Miyazaki. Almost. That Zilbalodis crafted such gorgeously animated scenes entirely with an open-source platform to keep budget in check is indie genius that would be only a gimmick were his storytelling instincts less stellar.

The dog doesn’t look great. I have no idea why that is, but it can pull you out of certain scenes.

Otherwise, there’s not much opportunity to slight this animated Latvian treasure sure to scoop up awards nominations this season. Catch it on the big screen while you can.

Metal Mama

The Wild Robot

by Hope Madden

With wry, almost gallows humor, visual panache and an impressive voice cast, co-writer/director Chris (How to Train Your Dragon, Lilo & Stitch) Sanders’s The Wild Robot nails the aching beauty of parenthood like few other films have.

Adapted from Peter Brown’s gorgeously illustrated middle grades novel, the film drops us and ROZZUM unit 7134 on an island uninhabited by humans. This makes it tough for “Roz” (Lupita Nyong’o) to fulfill her mission of completing a task, any task. But then an undersized gosling (Kit Connor) imprints on her, allowing Sanders to have some fun with the unending complications associated with Roz’s new task: parenting.

The writing and the delicately lovely animation work together to hypnotic effect, each unveiling something more human with every scene, regardless of the fact that there’s nary a human in the movie. Sanders’s script reflects the human experience, both the timeless (the thankless heartbreak of investing your whole heart and soul into the process of successfully losing your child to their own future) and the immediate (AI, corporate greed, tech overlords).

A talented cast deepens the film’s effect. Nyong’o effortlessly treads the line between logic and longing with so graceful a character arc that you can feel Roz blossoming. Pedro Pascal joins her as Fink, the fox who hates to admit that he wants to be part of this little family unit more than anything.

Catherine O’Hara—always a treasure—delivers dry wisdom in hilarious doses. Meanwhile, Ving Rhames, Mark Hamill, Matt Berry and Bill Nighy bring endearing personalities to their furry and feathered characters, while Stephanie Hsu injects Act 3 with a little wicked humor.

The film’s delight is only deepened by its sadness, and you may find yourself bawling repeatedly during this film. I know I did.

Sanders’s career is marked with the vulnerable optimism that defines an outsider’s longing for connection. In his worlds, a parent and their sort-of child—Lilo and Stitch, Hiccup and Toothless, Roz and Brightbill—flail and flounder until they find the strength of an extended family.

It’s a story he’s apparently not done telling. But he tells it so very well.

Steam Building

Elemental

by Hope Madden

As soon as Ember earns her dad’s trust, he can retire and she’ll run his shop in Fire Town. Unless her hot temper ruins everything. Or she falls for that sweet guy from Water Town. Or both.

Daddy issues. Romance. Coming of Age. There’s a lot about Pixar’s latest, Elemental, that feels familiar. Common, even. And if there’s one thing the animation giant’s managed to avoid for most of its almost 30 years in the business, it’s being predictable.

It doesn’t help that the characters immediately put you in mind of Pixar’s wildly imaginative Inside Out. But there’s little about the film that will strike you as wildly imaginative, although the animation is sometimes breathtaking, beauty spilling off all four sides of the screen. Animators explore and exploit all opportunities to find wonder in the glow and fluidity of characters and the magnificent 3D experience is well worth annoyance of the glasses.

The magic in this story’s telling lies less in an inspired, imaginative plot and more in the nuances of the execution. Ember, a child of immigrants, is seen as a danger to most of the rest of the city. And yet, as she traverses a landscape of people made of water, she’s the one who’s actually in danger.

John Hoberg, Kat Likkel and Brenda Hsueh’s crisp writing deftly navigates microaggressions, misunderstandings, and the anger associated with helpfully advising someone to “water down” their culture.

Back in 2015, Elemental  director Peter Sohn made the unduly overlooked The Good Dinosaur. It was a beautiful piece of visual storytelling, charming and well-acted, although, like this one, the plot itself lacked imagination. I hope more people give Elemental a chance. It lacks the uniqueness of Pixar’s greatest or most enduring efforts, but it’s a touching, gorgeous, emotional and forgiving tale.

Don’t be late ­or you’ll miss perhaps the best reason to see Pixar films, the shorts that precede the feature. In Carl’s Date (which will also appear as episode 1, season 2 of the Disney+ show Dug Days), our beloved Carl (Edward Asner) from Up! needs a little courage to go through with his first date since Ellie. Crushingly lovely.

Spider-Animania

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

by Hope Madden

Do you remember how cool Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse was? It was the coolest! A film that celebrated everything a comic book film could be, everything a hero could be, and everything a cartoon could be.

Expect all that again as Miles Morales (Shameik Moore) returns, this time sharing screentime and character arc almost 50/50 with Spider-Woman Gwen Stacy (Hailee Steinfeld), who starts us off with her own troubled tale of balancing great responsibility with great power. Things get so bad she has to abandon this universe, and her one real friend.

That friend has his own troubles. Mr. and Mrs. Morales (do not call them by their first names) know Miles is keeping something from them, a problem that’s only exacerbated by some goofy villain-of-the-week (Jason Schwartzman, priceless).

Or is Miles taking The Spot less seriously than he should?

He is! No matter, he gets to help Gwen and bunches of other (often hilarious) Spider-Men (and -Women and -Cats and -Dinosaurs). But it all goes to hell in a riotous celebration of animated style and spot-on writing that simultaneously tease and embrace comic book lore.

Schwartzman is not the only killer new talent crawling the web. Daniel Kaluuya lends his voice to the outstanding punk rock Spider-Man, Hobie; Issa Rae is the badass on wheels Jessica Drew; Karan Soni voices the huggable Pavitr, or Spider-Man India. Rachel Dratch plays essentially an animated version of herself as Miles’s high school principal, and the great Oscar Isaac delivers all the serious lines as Spider-Man Miguel O’Hara. Add in the returning Brian Tyree-Henry, Luna Lauren Velez and Mahershala Ali, and that is a star-studded lineup. Studs aplenty!

That wattage is almost outshone by the animation. Every conceivable style, melding one scene to the next, bringing conflict, love and heroism to startling, vivid, utterly gorgeous life.

Writers Phil Lords and Christopher Miller (The Lego Movie, The Mitchells vs. the Machines) return, bringing Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings writer Dave Callaham along for the sequel. Their story is wild but never illogical, delivering a heady balance of quantum physics, Jungian psychology and pop culture homages while rarely feeling like a self-congratulatory explosion of capitalism. Heart strings are tugged, and it helps if you’ve seen the previous installment. (If you haven’t, that’s on you, man. Rectify that situation immediately.)

If there is a drawback (and judging the reaction of some of the youngsters in my screening, there may be), it’s that Across the Spider-Verse is a cliffhanger. If you’re cool with an amazing second act in a three-story arc (The Empire Strikes Back, The Two Towers), you’ll probably be OK with it. Maybe warn your kids, but don’t let it dissuade you from taking in this animated glory on the biggest screen you can find.

Missions Possible

The Magician’s Elephant

by George Wolf

Anything is possible, just believe in your dreams.

That’s a fine moral for The Magician’s Elephant. But much like the film itself, it’s a bit generic and less than memorable.

Based on the children’s book by Kate DiCamillo, this Netflix animated adventure takes us to the land of Baltese, where strange clouds have rolled in and “people stopped believing.” Young orphan Peter (voiced by Noah Jupe) is being raised by an old soldier (Mandy Patinkin) to live a soldier’s life, which will be hard because “the world is hard.”

It gets harder when Peter uses meal money for a fortune teller (Natasia Demetriou) to tell him how his long lost sister can be found. The soldier told Peter the girl died at birth, but that’s not what he remembers, and a palm reading confirms that she is indeed alive.

To find her, Peter must “follow the elephant.”

But there are no elephants in Baltese, at least until a desperate magician (Benedict Wong) makes one fall from the sky. And after the magician and the elephant are both locked up for causing trouble, Peter begs the King (Aasif Mandvi) to let him care for the beast, as it is “only guilty of being an elephant.”

The King agrees, providing Peter can complete three tasks. Three impossible tasks.

Ah, but remember, nothing is impossible!

Director Wendy Rogers (a visual effects vet helming her first feature) and screenwriter Martin Hynes have plenty of threads to juggle, from animal cruelty to the costs of war to a Dickensian twist of fate. The resulting narrative ends up feeling overstuffed and convoluted.

The muted coloring no doubt reflects the village’s cloudy atmosphere, and the stiff animation may be intended to recall a children’s popup, but there is little in the film’s aesthetic that is visually inspiring.

Mandvi and Patinkin are the most successful at crafting indelible characterizations, while the rest of the voice cast (also including Brian Tyree Henry and Miranda Richardson) manages workmanlike readings that neither disappoint or standout.

Same for the film. The Magician’s Elephant pulls plenty from its crowded hat, but has trouble conjuring anything that is truly magical.