Monday, June 15, 2009

Up

Up, Pixar’s tenth theatrical release and the latest animated feature directed by Pete Docter, is a cinematic expedition that confidently explores the uncharted territory of an over saturated, youth-fixated culture. Most family-oriented adventure stories present their protagonists as youthful, energetic stereotypes that are ultimately too immature to realistically deal with their surroundings and circumstances. The typical result is a weak film focused on forced visuals and characters that feels tried and deflated. This underwhelming formula often sabotages any real story potential, and expectant audience members become captives, rather than captivated.

Most modern animation studios have green-lit concepts that rely on “safe” stories and gimmicks, in the likely hopes of broader marketing appeal and maximum box-office profits. In reality, these projects will remain orphaned in the shallows, rather than becoming timeless classics that will continue to be discovered and cherished for generations. That is why Bambi will be remembered forever, and Home On The Range has already been forgotten. Animated films from the not too distant past, such as The Lion King and Finding Nemo, tackled themes including life, death, and sacrifice. We should take a moment to recall that these honest elements were also present in the first animated feature, Walt Disney’s Snow White.

With Up, themes of growth (moving on with life following tragedy) and maturity (keeping a promise) are approached with obvious and subtle delivery. To assist in the balance of this delivery, the non-traditional protagonist in Up is Carl Fredricksen, a crotchety old man in his late seventies. A persistent 8-year old Wilderness Explorer named Russell serves as a supporting sidekick and is a nice point of empathy for kids, but this is centrally Carl’s story. Additional characters, both human and animal, are primarily reserved for comic relief.

The spectacular prologue - easily my favorite sequence of the film - tells the story of a boy who dreams of global travels like his heroic childhood idol, adventurer Charles Muntz. But he allows life to alter his course and so never accomplishes his dream of exploring the outside world. He loses his childhood sweetheart and wife. Before he knows it, Carl becomes a grumpy, old, and very lonely man. This brief, emotional, and silent life story includes childhood and adulthood, marriage, infertility, and even the death of a loved one. It is full of disappointment and drama, but offers the hopeful assurance that people can still find happiness while learning to be happy with less. Now, the rest of the story is ready to begin:

As Carl and Russell take flight in a house lifted by several thousand helium balloons, the viewer is allowed to watch the journey unfold as the unlikely duo encounter wild South American terrain, unusual jungle creatures, an unexpected villain, and talking dogs.

The film’s narrative is engaging and eccentric, and the characters, of course, are highly detailed and well animated. As a matter of artistic opinion, the aesthetic design and modeling for the lead characters is surprisingly my least favorite from Pixar’s films. I personally found the dimensions and proportions distracting, but to be fair, this in no way diminished their performances.

Personal preferences notwithstanding, there are a number of noteworthy sequences, in particular the house flying into a beautifully rendered thunderstorm, with Carl and Russell tumbling about as they are bombarded with furniture and knickknacks. Even smaller touches showcase Pixar’s brilliant attention to detail. For example, as Carl climbs the front porch steps, each board slightly compresses and bows under his weight.

While Up offers the promise of adventure, neatly packaged with a rich palette of fun ideas, it is simultaneously a simple, sentimental, and generally satisfying story. And although I did not find it as creatively or visually stimulating as Monster’s, Inc., The Incredibles, or Wall-E, it is quite beautiful.

As a technical achievement, this marks the first Pixar film created and rendered in 3D. I’m not entirely convinced this technique deserves such mass allure, but I will mention that it is utilized well in Up and free from the gag device of random objects flying pointlessly toward the audience. Several scenes appear to truly benefit from the 3D treatment, such as the initial rising house sequence, but the 2D format will not lessen any of the film’s appeal.

Without surprise, Michael Giacchino provides another great score, almost perfectly timed and balanced within the narrative. The music cues are not as dramatic as previous Pixar themes, but it feels like an intentional decision.

Like previous Pixar theatrical releases, an animated short precedes the film. In this case, it’s Partly Cloudy (the directorial debut of storyboard artist and animator Peter Sohn), a charming story of where babies come from.

Unfortunately, many animated films of the recent past and present seem to purposefully avoid any emotional, mature, or serious topics. This is one of my biggest praises for the artists and storytellers of Pixar, and Up. This is especially true when there is a cultural hive-mindset that believes a cartoon is no place for such themes. I wholeheartedly agree, but not due to any morally or socially conscious reasons. Cartoons are entertainment products. Animation is an art form. The two can indeed coexist, and often do, but they are not exclusively synonymous.

I believe that the people of Pixar understand and embrace this principle, and that is why their stories of life, love, and adventure will continue to soar.

Until next time…

JP

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Amazing Grayson

I have enjoyed creating and developing several animated properties over the past few years. One of my favorites is Amazing Grayson.

The character driven concept is based upon the fantasy adventures of a young boy named Grayson Lewis, and his imaginary, super heroic alter-ego, Amazing Grayson.

The episodic storylines of Amazing Grayson are energetic and action-packed, with a core foundation centered on strong family values.

The project is currently being developed for film, television, print, and various multimedia applications.

Stay tuned for additional project news, updates, and advance artwork.

Until next time…

JP

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Eastbound and Down

Historically speaking, I have always been much more interested in film than television (with the obvious exception of classic Saturday morning cartoons). However, there is the occasional small-screen treasure (such as Arrested Development, Entourage, and The Office) that grabs my attention and just refuses to let go.

I recently discovered a rather risqué series that grabbed my attention with the same class and charisma as an angry, washed-up jock grabbing his crotch during the seventh-inning stretch.

Eastbound & Down is an irreverent, comedic masterpiece starring Danny McBride as a former professional athlete, who after a disappointing career is forced to return to his hometown middle-school in Shelby, North Carolina, and suffer employment as a substitute physical education teacher.

McBride plays Kenny Powers, a former Major League fastball pitcher ousted due to egomania, substance abuse, and some very politically incorrect comments about his teammates. Now Kenny finds himself back in his hometown, living with his older brother and furious at himself because he's seriously considering a job as a P.E. teacher at the local middle school.

Playing arrogance and ignorance as likable qualities is McBride's secret weapon as a comic, and characters don't get any more arrogant than Kenny. He's a nonstop offender, coming on to the art teacher, an old flame currently engaged to the clueless principal, and arranging for the services of a prostitute on the phone in his brother's living room, shocking his sister-in-law with his very specific sexual demands.

What elevates Eastbound & Down above mere intolerant, bigoted gutter humor is McBride's ongoing love affair with the lower-middle class. He revels in getting all the details right, from his brother's cramped suburban house to the seedy bar where Kenny drinks boilermakers in the front and inhales cocaine in the storage room. Plus, you've just got to love a sitcom that uses the Freddie King version of Don Nix's great, stormy, blues-rocker, ''Going Down,'' as a theme song.

Although not for the pious or faint of heart, I believe Eastbound & Down is a winner about a real loser.

Until next time…

JP

Monday, February 9, 2009

Coraline

There are themes and situations in Coraline that may frighten children. This is not so much a warning as it is an informative recommendation. Stories that have the courage to elicit a response of uneasiness and questions can be a healthy antidote for souls polluted and poisoned by sterile "family" entertainment. In other words, that which seems good may not necessarily be true.

Henry Selick's Coraline is a beautifully realized and imaginative adaptation of the beloved Neil Gaiman novel. Whereas the film is indeed animated, it is also an antithesis to a stereotypical children's feature.

Technically speaking, Coraline has the distinction of being the first hi-def, stop-motion animated feature filmed entirely in stereoscopic 3D. With the current abundance of 3D gimmicks, Coraline feels deliberately restrained in this area. The result is a refreshing balance of substance, story, and style. Here, the 3D elements are used in artistic contrast to the tactile nature of Selick's stop-motion animation. For fans of animation, that is a milestone achievement. For the general audience, that translates as an entertaining and immersive movie experience.

When the story begins, a bored and isolated girl named Coraline has just moved in to a gloomy old house. Her dull and distracted parents ignore and neglect her. Her new neighbors include a pair of flamboyant elderly actresses, a former circus acrobat with a troupe of trained mice, and an odd boy with a creepy black cat.

Late one night, she discovers a small, hidden door inside the house. To her surprise and relief, the door is actually a magic portal to an alternate version of her life. In this vivid surrogate reality, Coraline's "other" parents seem much more lively and interesting. Better still, they seem much more interested in Coraline. In fact, they're glad to provide whatever she wants - even if she doesn't know she wants it.

In this enchanted existence, a lavish outdoor garden has been landscaped to look like Coraline's likeness, the neighbor's eccentricities increase, and the odd boy's creepy black cat is able to speak with charming, albeit distressed, articulation. When Coraline begins to discover that her parallel is not without peril, she also learns that she could become trapped inside forever.

Although there seems to be a subtle emotional detachment between the characters themselves, this (arguably) weak connection may not actually be transferred to the audience. In fact, the decision to direct the cast toward a slightly superficial performance may have been intentional, as a warmer, more personal approach may have felt too predictable, and provided a less interesting foundation to the protagonist's journey.

Overall, Coraline is a delightful story that explores the wisdom of limitations, and serves as a prompt reminder that in life people often seek escape from the lives they've created. While the film offers a delicate illumination to the dangers of desire, the symmetry of tale and technique is delivered brilliantly.

Like most enduring children's tales, the book and film both explore the wonders of adolescence, but not at the exclusion of adult-themed malevolence. This may be a key to the secret door of timeless stories.

Until next time…

JP