Deadpool (2016)

You know, as someone who considers myself a pop culture maven, thoroughgoing in pursuits to truly cover all fields and encyclopedic after covering them, I actually have moderate, albeit less-than-excepted, experience in espying many of the contents that pop culture has to offer firsthand. I seem to live vicariously in the pop culture geography, knowing a lot, yet not having seen a lot. I know it is poison to admit these sorts of shortcomings, but I am all about following the best policy: honesty. I am a pop culture fanatic, but I do have much more to learn. I can attribute this to the pursuit of other endeavors, potential lack of proper resources/time, etc., but whatever the reason, there it is for you. I say this not to allay my reputation, but to provide some context when I say that I have not read the Deadpool comic.

I actually am not a comic book reader. I am not opposed to it. I just haven't gotten around to reading one. I am aware of his connection with the X-Men universe, but I am not a scholar of the Deadpool character. That's why when I first saw the original test footage circa 2012 when the Deadpool film was first being developed, I cringed, witnessing something with such infuriatingly, patent motives and a self-consciously, obnoxiously snarky style, complete with madcap, ham-handed execution. And this was a mere 4-minute clip. The strange part is...remnants of my original diatribe remain. And it works.

The film revolves around Wade Wilson, a mercenary in New York, who describes himself as "the Tooth Fairy that knocks your teeth out and steals your cash." He becomes romantically involved with a prostitute named Vanessa and life seems to be going well, until he becomes diagnosed with cancer. Thankfully (or so is thought), a recruiter approaches Wade, claiming that he has a serum that can cure his illness, as well as giving him special abilities. He departs from Vanessa in secrecy and heads off to the secret lab, where he meets Ajax, real name Francis. He injects Wade with the serum, but at the culmination of continuously tense interplay, his body becomes mutated and is left for dead. However, the serum has given him immortality and he lives through the catastrophe. He escaped the "Dead Pool," but he is still disgusted and embarrassed by his appearance, so he decides to put his fresh, mint abilities to use, become Deadpool, and force Ajax to fix his face.

The film is humor-oriented. The humor in this film is crass, excessively meta, obnoxiously self-referential, persistently transparent, profoundly offensive, and is executed without the slightest ioda of grace, tact, care, and attention. If Guardians of the Galaxy was crafted with a meticulous, sixth sense for comedy, Deadpool seems to have been assembled by throwing stuff haphazardly in a blender and hoping something of quality is produced. In other words, Guardians of the Galaxy is the giddy nerd. Deadpool is the lumbering, frat-boy bully. They do, however, share one quality: sheer hilarity.

Not only does this film add itself to the catalog of the funniest comic book films, it may go down as one of the funniest films of all time. The secret is that while the comedy lacks in precision, it is overflowing with brio. It's that sole component that makes it seem less like a halfhearted affair and more like a session of comic book geeks realizing what they have on their hands, deciding to get inebriated, and writing whatever they please, as they laugh their heads off, unconcerned with perceptions and concerned with having fun and amusing themselves. It all seems so happily and eagerly executed, underneath the jokes involving incest.

While first-time director Tim Miller and screenwriters Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick are definitely the unlikely heroes, the spearhead of this energetic enterprise is  producer and leading man Ryan Reynolds, unleashing a side of him that hasn't really been seen. 2005's Waiting was the closest (and we all know how exciting and memorable that movie was), but a sizable amount of his work consists of nice-guy romantic comedy roles and basic, one-dimensional hero roles (*cough cough* Green Lantern?). I haven't seen much of his filmography, but I can bet any amount of money that this loud, brass, profane, gleefully cynical side of his persona has not been as fully realized, if at all, as it has been in this movie. It seems as if Reynolds is apologizing for keeping too close a watch on his testicles, so he compensates by going balls-to-the-wall. It's a fair trade, indeed. However, he does have some decent support behind him as well. Ed Skrein isn't given the meatiest role ever, but still delivers a fervently slimy, ferociously entertaining performance as Ajax. Morena Baccarin portrays Vanessa, taking this stereotypical, scant role and infuses it with the proper amounts of anguish, strength, vulnerability, and raw sexuality. It's one of the best eye candy superhero film performances in the history of cinema.

The irony is that a film that seems to be built on maladroit presentation and frenetic energy actually manages to deliver the remaining elements with actual dignity and coherence. The action sequences are astonishing, mostly due to how grisly the images can be. The movie is R-rated for a reason. However, they are extremely rousing, in particular a section at the end of the final battle that's so jaw-dropping and tense that I had an out-of-body experience. And, as expected, most of them maintain that kinetic, loony energy. It's the Tarantino of comic book films. As well, the use of the soundtrack supplies more comedic moments. While Guardians of the Galaxy's soundtrack was more 70s-based, Deadpool looks, primarily, to the 80s, particularly in a running joke about Deadpool's affinity for Wham! You will experience his wrath if you don't emphasize the exclamation point.

This film really could've gone either way. It had the potential of disaster and success written on it simultaneously. As is, it is one of the most entertaining Marvel adaptations, this side of Guardians of the Galaxy. While raunchy and clunky on the surface, it actually one-ups Guardians in a lot of ways. It's hard to say which one is better, but Deadpool has its own unique, winsome niche. It's incredible how the most overblown, ostentatious, and amateurish aspects of a film can be the most advantageous. It is the freak accident of cinema and a miraculous one at that.

On a side note, any sentient, moderately intelligent adult who chooses to bring a young child to this film, like the couple at AMC in Victoria Gardens, I must ask for your name, address, and phone number. A claim to Child Protective Services might be in the best interest for all parties involved.

RATING: Three-and-a-half stars out of four

Zootopia (2016)

You know, we are truly living in one of the most progressive stages in the history of children's entertainment. While the more close-minded, pedantic crowd, who wishes every piece of childhood entertainment would be EXACT to the canon from their own childhood, would preach that due the increased role of technology, which has killed off the American-as-apple-pie tradition of the Saturday morning cartoon, children's entertainment is built more on superficial energy and simplistic, mind-numbing gimmicks meant to pander to the current Twitter generation, I personally believe that this generation is, whether they are conscious of it or not, experiencing an epoch in the medium ripe with a certain idiosyncratic creativity, spirit, and voice. 

Think about it. We have males rallying together in support of My Little Pony, because of its current reincarnation. We have shows on channels, like Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network that display characters of less traditional sexual orientations. Our highest-grossing animated film is a film that many, including me, view as challenging and mildly subverting gender roles, in the area of feminine strength and dependence of males. And the latest Disney effort, which is breaking some records previously held by the "elephant in the room," has chosen to tackle the issue... of racial disparity, as well as the status and image of the police force.

What kind of world are we living in? Well, for 108 minutes, we submit to the culture of Zootopia.

This film certainly had an uphill battle to overcome, in terms of the basic, bare-bones concept of the story. An ambitious young woman (actually, any gender for this story, but in this film's case, a woman) has a big dream that she fervently and persistently pursues, despite all the odds stacked against her. She winds up there, but, welp, she's the small fry and realizes that she is at the bottom and is not treated and favored as equally as her more powerful, more experienced comrades. So, she has to prove herself and work hard to truly fulfill her dream to the highest extent. She takes on a hefty task to prove herself as worthy. Oh, and she ends up having to work with someone of a completely different visage and temperament. They butt heads, but eventually they find a common ground and a weakness in each other that they try to help strengthen. By the end, our plucky underdog has come out on top, our seemingly incongruous duo become friends, and they both are stronger, happier people by the end. Oh, and all of this takes place in a world where animals are anthropomorphized, walking, talking, and existing as humans do.

The only real unique aspect about the story itself is the fact that the young, plucky woman is a rabbit named Judy. And her polar opposite is a fox named Nick.

So yeah, such a seemingly rote conceit shouldn't have this many layers. Shouldn't it? Well, for the first half, it is very entertaining, but it is very generic, safe, and very obedient of the path it has been placed on. However, the second half, while following the path, continues by carving its own way to continue. On the surface, it works as kids, selling an ostensibly simple message of acceptance, a message Disney has sold for years. The difference this time? The subtle, transcendental commentary.

Consider this. The world of Zootopia consists of two types: the predators and the prey. They manage to exist in adequate harmony, while still having some issues (i.e. stereotyping the predators as out-of-control and savage and the prey as ineffectual). While the prey happen to be the 90% majority of the population, the creature in charge happens to be what many consider to be the predator, the minority. After the "predator" leader gets in hot water over a secret operation and is persecuted, his practically voiceless assistant, who is part of the majority, wants to make sure that the minority is scorned by the majority. And the police aren't doing much to help matters, actually encouraging Judy the rabbit to represent the majority and be their voice, in fighting against the minority, which, due to a comment she made about their biological impulses, are seen as a threat.

The aspect of the police, while might mainly be seen as minute, is actually highly vital. While no violence is shown (Disney!), I reiterate: the police are not doing anything to help the minority, or so it is perceived. This attitude has been pervasive, in the wake of events that, while have always occurred, are spiking at a frustratingly high frequency to many people, but primarily minorities, African-Americans in particular. While statistics can prove that there is an emphatic racial slant when it comes to treatment by police, many individuals, especially of the "majority" in our country, think that police are just doing their job and, to some people, their actions are justifiable. In fact, I think the inherent emphasis of the detrimental martyrdom of the police and the abuse of their authority is criticized in one simple line when Judy says, "I became a police officer to serve and protect." That one terse, simple line manages to be so heavily cloaked in trenchancy, context, pertinence, and poignancy that it almost brought me to tears.

Furthermore, they actually showcase the effects of environment and how it can cause some to succumb to the stereotypes that are manifested. Consider a scene where Nick the fox is shown as a young kid wanting to be initiated into the Jr. Ranger Scouts organization. It is shown that he is faced with financial difficulties, as his mother has to "scrape money together" to get him a uniform, only to be greeted with disdain and mockery. It states that environment doesn't define you per se, but in order to survive and to sustain oneself, some people become the stereotypes that others of that distinct type try to evade. Hell, he grows up to stereotype Judy, which shows that, while certainly in differing degrees, you can be the oppressed and the oppressor. It presents the world as diverse, but imperfect. The way to alleviate this is to collaborate, not clash. And in an era where a self-righteous, entitled, xenophobic bigot is not only heightening and reviving these damaging attitudes, but might, just might, become President, this Disney film has a dual act as a guidebook for our country.

In addition, they, too, deliver some commentary on the unfair treatment of women in the workplace, particularly on how, in reality, women are treated on a different standard as men in the police force. When Judy the rabbit first enters, she's greeted by an employee who calls her "cute," as if she's just a delicate, ineffectual child. I guess it's Disney's way of apologizing for giving little girls mixed messages for ions, but it still speaks volumes.

However, as I stated earlier, the remarkable feat is that, while all these simmering details are present, it is not only presented straightforwardly, but it never loses sight of the entertainment value, which is definitely on a high level. The animation is gorgeous to look at, with some of the most winsome character designs in the Disney catalog, a world with concurrent climates, an area located above a waterfall, which is one of the most visually breathtaking locations I have ever witnessed in a Disney film, and some rousing action scenes, including a chase that takes place on a rope bridge, which has some profound white-knuckle moments. Also, given how the film involves a major assignment on the police force, I found myself in fierce admiration of the film noir touches added in. Shady, hazy destinations, nights of perpetual rain, and moments of darkness are nuances that add to the splendor tonally and visually.

Also to be impressed by is the talent brought onto this film. Directors Byron Howard, an experienced gent in the Disney company, and Rich Moore, who has history with shows like The Simpsons and Futurama, seem to have a real alchemy with writer and co-director Jared Bush, because the humor in this film is hilarious. While not every joke hits bulls-eye, the second third, in my opinion, includes some of the most riotous, risible comedy ever seen in a Disney film, including an already-seen-but-still-hilarious gag involving sloths in the DMV and one of the best Godfather parodies in all of cinema. It's one of those things where you feel that everybody was on the same page.

Speaking of talent, Disney usually attracts the best. And this film is stuffed with fine vocal work from Jenny Slate, J.K. Simmons, Idris Elba, Maurice LaMarche, Tommy Chong, Shakira (what?), and Ginnifer Goodwin as Judy. But, by far, the biggest revelation is Jason Bateman as Nick the fox. 2013's Identity Thief received massively negative reviews from critics, many of which criticized Bateman's perpetuation of his innocuous, oblivious, straight man schtick. Apparently, he took what critics said to heart, given his first profane, sardonic punch in Bad Words, and his second wry, cunning punch in this film, where he perfectly compliments Nick's sarcastically suave dialogue and his droll grin.

Now, as much as I praise this film, it's not perfect, because for the most part, it's more entertaining than exceptional, minus the underlying messages. There is a joke here and there that falls flat and also, *sigh* the music. Not the score by Disney/kid's film composer giant Michael Giacchino, mind you. I'm referring to the main song by Shakira. Maybe it's just me, but I'm really getting sick of hearing Shakira. I mean, her music was never one of the unquestionable touchstones of popular culture, but the more she tries to adapt, the more stodgy she becomes. I know her hips don't lie, but neither do I.

Regardless, this is another step in the right direction, a film that shows that instead of trying to top or battle PIXAR, Disney's attempt at CGI films can, in their own way, sit alongside PIXAR. I mean, it's still obviously cutesy, marketable Disney, but it is still the most topical, the most culturally aware Disney has ever been. It is the closest they will come to Inside Out. While it is not as monumental, it still shows Disney maneuvering a new twist on a habitual narrative and pulling it off with flying colors. It's strange that a Disney film would have more in common with Straight Outta Compton than with something like A Bug's Life, but there it is. Disney's Zootopia bears striking parallels to Obama's America. That's some real shit, right there.

RATING: Three-and-a-half stars out of four.

Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015)

Very rarely does a lack of surprise augments your feelings during a film. Not being surprised isn’t always a negative thing, as long as what’s being provided is a consistent sense of entertainment. Critics always complain about predictability in stories, but I feel that our words become misinterpreted. It’s not the fact that we have received another remote control car, but moreso that we have received one of infirm, dilapidated, inadequate quality or exactly the same one without any alterations or anything aesthetic pleasures. Not being surprised can be forgivable and, in some cases, is used as an accomplice to a feeling of anticipation.

“In a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…” fades in with that same archaic, blue font, submerging your fellow critic in a swamp of giddiness, thinking about what is to come. And then...John William’s illustrious, grandiose theme blast, as those two words stick around long enough for us to comprehend what we are watching: Star Wars. Then, the title crawl fills us in since the previous series of events in 1983. It’s as simplistic and minimalistic in theory, but full of booming grandeur in execution, the same way it was 38 years ago, at the genesis of the cultural, science-fiction juggernaut that has been virtually unstoppable, for better or for worse. The force has awakened, and so has this franchise!

The story begins on planet Jakku. Luke Skywalker has disappeared after trying to strengthen Jedi Order, but failing due to an insubordinate student (by insubordinate, I mean he transferred to that bastard, The Dark Side). The Resistance, an organization backed by the Republic, is trying to obtain a missing piece of a map, which will disclose Luke’s locations. However, the First Order, which has replaced the Galactic Empire, seeks it to destroy Luke and the Republic. The First Order is run by Kylo Ren, whose master is Supreme Leader Snoke. However, after a raid on Jakku, a stormtrooper, FN-2187, feels discomfort working alongside the First Order. He frees Poe Dameron, a Resistance fighter pilot captured during the invasion who calls the stormtrooper, Finn, and they escape, but they crash on Jakku, ostensibly leaving Finn as the sole survivor. While wandering Jakku, he meets up with Rey and a droid, BB-8. After the First Order track them down, they escape on the Millennium Falcon and encounter two familiar guests: Han Solo and Chewbacca. The quintet band together in an intricate, moral journey to fight the First Order, as they form a new superweapon, Starkiller Base.

This film, while being probably the most successful film of the year, critically and financially, has come under fire for coming across as too derivative, a claim stated by the lucrative, money-grubbing android himself (love you, Lucas). I have read all the arguments and seen all the elements that they are referencing and I must say that I find them all meager and excessively fastidious. However, I can empathize on some level. If one is not truly allured by the characters and finds them superficial and ineffectual on their own merits, then I can understand them digging deeper and finding offensively similar parallels from the original films. And personally, when Rey was first introduced, I couldn’t buy into her either. Not because she seemed unoriginal, in the context of the Star Wars universe, but because she seemed unoriginal in the cinematic universe. Her introduction involving her trying to survive in a desolate, impoverished region, trying to barter anything she can to survive remind me too much of Katniss Everdeen. So, in some respect, I see where the detractors are coming from.

However, and usually I prefer not to do this, but I want to offer sympathy to director J.J. Abrams. I feel context is in order. Abrams has probably the loftiest obligation of the year and of his career: to respectfully, smoothly, and masterfully resume the Star Wars franchise after years of missteps and failures on other helmer’s ends. Plus, he’s coming off of directing the rebooted Star Trek franchise, which is funny, seeing how the complaints for this movie have also been said about Star Trek: Into Darkness (3.5 star movie, by the way). Usually, I can go into endless discourse about directors being in projects like this solely for monetary reasons. J.J. Abrams never struck me as that type of guy. He has so many other producing, directing, and writing credits on film and TV (for better or for worse) that he could retire tomorrow and have money left over when he dies for his estate to buy Spock’s casket from Star Trek II and shoot him off into space.

He always strikes me as a meticulous, fanboy workhorse, which brings a sense of sincerity to his direction. So, to me, I think the only other way he could have gone was to create a similar world to give the fans a sense of deja vu and the newbies a sense of awe and wonderment, so that they can each share in their personal reactions. I understand the belief that in a galaxy with a multitude of planets, there should be more diversity because it opens itself for a multitude of creative opportunities. However, I take it, kind of like America: a united area full of different places operating on different sceneries and sensibilities, but you are going to come across several that intertwine in their similarities. That’s how I take Jakku. He could’ve pulled a left-turn and birthed something more stylized and embedded in red hues or such, but that’s what would’ve been expected in these efficient, technological, “progressive” filmmaking times.

Plus, on an aesthetic level, the barren, but rich landscapes are gorgeous to look at and create an impeccable sense of atmosphere, just like the original did. However, the nostalgia sparks aren’t all ignited by intrinsically heavy, but subtly executed atmosphere. Sometimes, they arise by seeing those glorious, spacious sets, whether it is a cantina inspired by the Moe Eisley Cantina from the first film or the magnificent Millennium Falcon.

Sometimes, nostalgia rushes out through the spectacular effects, which achieve a fanciful significance, much like the original films. In a time where effects try to be grittier, uglier, more mature, and seem to not even try to hide the gaudy mechanisms at work, it is enlightening to see the effects modernized, but, to their core, still humble and mindful of their roots. The CGI-rendered creatures in the cantina or the Andy Serkis-spearheaded Supreme Leader Snoke are decently realized, but still not overly impressive. However, just seeing those green and red laser blasts conjure the esteem and elation of the original films, all in glorious 3D. On the subject, the 3D version, in my eyes, is the only version to see, providing a substantial amount of thrills, gut-churning, plunging angles, and moments to make you duck and weave in your seat, without ever being gimmicky. It truly feels like an open, steadfast invitation to join in and plant your feet in this environment. For a format of filming that has been so shaky and sporadic, it feels that this 2009-present era of 3D is the evidence that 3D is going to be around longer than most of its brief periods.

Other times, nostalgia is emitted through the characters. Some of them are serviceable, but not anything noteworthy for the Star Wars catalog, such as Poe Cameron. He’s strapping, courageous, and vital enough to be likable, but not spectacular. BB-8 is a solid stand-in for R2-D2, looking actually visually more vibrant and magnetic than R2-D2. Others are strong in some aspects, but limp in others. Kylo Ren is a great send-up to Darth Vader, in terms of that incredible mask with a metallic sheen and his true identity and its relevance to the rest of the characters is fantastically portrayed, thanks to writers Lawrence Kasdan, Michael Arndt, and yes, Abrams himself. However, I didn’t care for the actor who portrayed him: Adam Driver. To me, he was overly emo, ineffectual, and vulnerable in a calculated, histrionic, stiff form. But to see veterans like Han Solo (Harrison Ford), Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher) and even Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) used so cohesively, so effortlessly, so pertinently, and so potently in the story is simply astounding how blissfully inseparable the link between story and character is. Oh, and C-3P0 makes a cameo...if you like that sort of thing. Yes, Star Wars: The Force Awakens joins films such as Straight Outta Compton and The Peanuts Movie in the category of 2015 films that are obsessed with amalgamating both contemporary vision and nostalgic tendencies.

However, in terms of the new characters, I found the most investment in stormtrooper Finn. The idea of a character, associated with a villainous clan, abandoning that lifestyle to become genial or straightforward is nowhere near anything new. However, the fact that a stormtrooper is actually allowed to be an actual character, instead of a one-dimensional guard/walking target, is invigorating and thank God that he is portrayed by as fine an actor as John Boyega, an intriguing newcomer, who injects Finn with steely, hulking charisma, youthful determination, and firm, resilient vulnerability. I mention that Daisy Ridley’s Rey is introduced underwhelmingly and without much flair, but once she is introduced to Finn, their interplay actually strengthens her character and as she becomes one with the Force, her character gains much more fragility, weight, and dominance, as she is forced to go further within herself, thinking, reacting, and adapting, culminating as the quintessential feminist icon that Star Wars fans have waited for.

It’s not a perfect film. There is a lot of humor in the film, comprised a lot of in-jokes, one-liners, and callbacks. Most of them work, but some, even the amusing ones, still seem forced and threaten to make the film too kiddish. It can feel, at times, like a persistent nudge to the ribs, as if Abrams believed that they were mandated, in order to remind the audience that this is a modern addition to the Star Wars oeuvre, and as to not treat it too seriously, which as such, somewhat deprives it of its original dignity and integrity. This kind of odd paranoia in achieving that sweet spot makes certain bits of dialogue seem uncomfortably contrived. And as stated earlier, there are some weak spots in the characterization department, be it with the writing or acting.

Regardless, I still think this is as close to topping the original three Star Wars film as you are going to get. Nowadays, when we think of films raking in billions of dollars, we think of uber-hyped, inclusive, visually delightful, vast yet undemanding blockbusters, mostly because the novelty of achieving $1 billion is accustomed at this point. We think of movies that are entertaining, as well as wholly crowd-pleasing. However, to be the highest-grossing film, seems to suggest that a filmmaker has gone one step beyond and gave some extra oomph and passion to create something that revels in most of these adjectives, but also transcends typical parameters whilst still being accessible for the common man. With an emotionally complex, layered yet engaging story, dazzling visuals, and an absolute, compelling, full-fledged cast (minus Adam Driver and C-3PO), Star Wars goes above and beyond, whilst still conforming to, all expectations of many run-of-the-mill blockbusters, giving us an oxygen mask for use of the film industry, and, to not as strong of a degree, shares the same qualities of the two highest-grossing films of all time: Titanic and Avatar. Will it top them in box office revenues? Well, with the spirit of such loyal, ardent fans, I feel the force is strong enough to do anything.

RATING: Three-and-a-half stars out of four

Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Road Chip (2015)

Personal taste is one relentlessly uncompromising bastard, ain’t it? You can suppress it externally all you want, but it does not extinguish the fire that threatens to, and often succeeds, engulf your better logical instincts. Because of this unfortunate personal crutch, every film critic or film lover have to live with the fact that they have at least one unpopular film choice in their repetory. For me, it’s the fact that two of my favorite films stem from the Alvin & the Chipmunks live-action franchise.

Oh, the havoc and torment I have endured defending these films. Let me set the record straight, though: No, they are not among the best films of all time and they are not made by exactly dignified directors. Putting their resumes together would create an homogonous, wildy erratic, dichotomous track record, unprecedented in cinema. However, I do love the Squeakquel and Chipmunked, as well as really liking the first film. I believe that there is some simmering wit, as it borderlines as a satire of the absurdity and vapitude of pop music, while not ever entirely reaching that goal, due to submerging into standard, customary kid’s film platitudes. With that said, I personally find the flaws and cliches endearing in a puzzling, incredulously entertaining fashion.

But foremost above all, I personally am drawn to the characters of the Chipmunks, in all their convincing CGI glory. Chipmunks are adorable and talking chipmunks are fervently adorable. Again, my admiration of the films are entirely visceral. They warm the cockles of my heart and I don’t cease to think about them after a viewing. It’s sweet on a transcendent, addicting level, like a Youtube cat video marathon, and I personally rank them higher than most of these live-action, CGI adaptations of children’s shows. THAT SAID, I was not looking forward to this movie, not merely because the third movie, whilst being highly entertaining, was a giant cash grab, but because this film, thanks to its publicity, looked like it sunk to the lowest depths a film of this ilk could. I went in expecting abject and received a textbook example of “average.”

The film begins on the Seville household with Dave trying to put the Chipmunks on a leave of absence from music, so they can live normal lives for a while, despite the fact that Dave’s appearances at the house are more sporadic due to producing music. I guess a house without consistent, stable authority counts as “normal.” Apparently, he doesn’t care as much about the Chippettes, as they are allowed to go off and judge American Idol. Although, asking such questions or getting stuck on thoughts like these would be futile.

Anyhow, Dave does introduce his boys to his new girlfriend, Samantha, as well as her son, Miles, who constantly ridicules and mistreats the Chipmunks. They don’t like each other, which, of course, will last through the ENTIRE duration of the film, right? Around the time Dave is going to spend time with Samantha in Miami, the Chipmunks find a ring in Dave’s bag, leading them to believe that Dave is going to marry her and abandon them, which lead them to talk Miles in embarking on a quest to stop this proposal, which means...ROAD TRIP! The originality is one to be admired.

The one facet about my synopsis that some readers might perceive as odd is the fact that the Chipmunks seem to not have much importance or priority. Well, that’s because, in an odd way, they don’t. Of course, they are the main characters, but screenwriters Randi Mayem Singer and Adam Sztykiel don’t seem to have a steadfast, cocksure grasp in how to delineate them. Their definitions are still in tune, but without any verve or pizzazz, which is rather ironic, seeing how Singer helped write Mrs. Doubtfire, which he took generic concepts and molded them together with flair. Alvin’s still a self-absorbed brat, but without the proper panache, he does nothing to stand out. Theodore’s affinity with food is played up to the most incompetent, transparent degree I have ever seen. Simon is still the same, but again, without liveliness around him, he can’t rise above it. They are quite literally puppets, which is not a crack at the CGI, though it is the worst executed of the series. Alvin looks like a pool toy and Theodore looks like an furry, anime version of Porky Pig.

On the subject of Theodore, the entire film gets Theodore wrong. While he actually gets more funny moments in this film than in many of the other films, it actually somewhat plays to his detriment. Theodore is my favorite Chipmunk, because he was the most innocent, the most helpless and the adorable, winning design and demeanor complimented it immaculately. Because this film doesn’t know how to push its characters, it ends up putting Theodore in a position where he is more mature and outgoing than the past films, yet still trying to maintain his doe-eyed, infantile purity. The problem is that it is never addressed as Theodore struggling with trying to feel older. The contrast is so bemusing that it quickly sinks in that the film has designed Theodore to pander to such an extent that he does things that repeatedly seem out of character, whether he is risking his life in an completely arbitrary, extraneous scene, breakdancing during a Redfoo song or...sigh...rapping Baby Got Back. Yeah, we’ll get to the music later.

Miles, the son, is the typical banal, smart-aleck teen with deep, intrinsic issues that contribute to his temperament, but when they are every handled, they are done so suddenly and with such jarring disingenuity that we never are totally, fully invested in the character. However, it’s refreshing to see newcomer Josh Green try to pull something off with it. Seeing how the Chipmunks are executed with wan and with very little personality, some of their moments of abuse are actually mildly amusing. On the subject of fun performances, Tony Hale devours the scenery as the antagonist, Air Marshall James Suggs. Again, poorly written, but his sheer gusto and bravura in his portrayal makes it highly enjoyable and amusing to watch. Of course, Jason Lee is as indifferent as he possibly can be and Kimberly Williams-Paisley seems to only be doing this role, so she can not merely be remembered as being the chick who is riding Brad Paisley’s saddle. Also, to all Shake It Up fans, Bella Thorne does not make anything close to a star-making turn with this film.

Back on to the subject of music, yes? Being a Chipmunks film, there has to be a barrage of music, primarily consisting of covers, with one original song so unimaginative and trite that it’s not even worth mentioning. Exempting a fairly good cover of Iko Iko, it is the most unimpressive, useless set list in the franchise. They pride themselves on their Uptown Funk cover, presumably because of its demand of popularity. However, it is a horrendous cover with stiff, restrictive instrumentals. And it appears during a scene in the film, which demolishes the equilibrium it had been previously retaining consistently. Again, it is an average film, nothing impressive, but nothing terrible. All of that is temporarily halted when the Chipmunks and Miles arrive in New Orleans in a scene so stereotype-ridden and so culturally limited and watered down that I was personally offended. In fact, with all of the locations exhibited in the film, it feels like Ross Bagdasarian, Jr. wanted to take a vacation, yet make another cinematic installment in the series, so he can live off of its residuals when his Nickelodeon TV reboot show inevitably pitfalls in ratings.

Bagdasarian and his wife are the producers of this film and are behind it, as they are with everything under the Chipmunks name, no matter how inept or baffling it is (see Little Alvin and the Mini-Munks). While their presence may be prevalent, it still isn’t as potent as when the first three films were released. The first three films never prided themselves on creativity, but they had certainly more vibrancy than this film. It’s stale, by-the-numbers, and standardly mediocre, though it isn’t totally bankrupt. Outside of its other strong points I mentioned, there are actually quite a few chuckles that were emitted by me (in between the flatuence and juvenile humor) and a scene involving squirrels injesting peanuts tainted with cough syrup had me hysterically laughing. Additionally, it is nice to just see the Chipmunks onscreen. Their essence is present, but it’s just a shame that their surroundings and mechanics aren’t fraught with any substance. To me, it brings me back to 2003’s Rugrats Go Wild. Both are movies with lovable characters that conjure positive memories and moments from other incarnations and chapters of their concrete, initial source material, but both movies fall victim to decrepit, hackneyed script decisions, awkward pandering, and being practically bereft of any authentic, crucial content.

RATING: Two out of four stars

The Good Dinosaur (2014)

Oh, the trek that I endured with this film. Let me set the context. I'm not being hyperbolic or overreactive of my feelings with this film. I am just talking about the perspectives that encouraged me to see the film. I first viewed the film's trailers and feared it as a soulless, excruciatingly mediocre, by-the-numbers, terribly trite film under the usually meticulous, delicate palms of the company who bestowed unto us the Toy Story trilogy, Finding Nemo, and this year's Inside Out. However, subsequent trailers led me to believe that the movie, while still looking simplistic, might still be rich and emotionally effective. After actually seeing it, my verdict is...Eeeehyahoohyaeh.

I'll get to that. The film takes place in a situation where the celestial (or metaphysical or natural, what have you) force that eliminated the dinosaurs did not occur. Cut forward to millions of years later, two full-grown dinosaurs welcome three babies, the last of which is Arlo, the "Good Dinosaur" in question. Given how he is the Good Dinosaur, you can predict the reason why: he doesn't fit in with his family. He is sensitive and wimpy, which hampers his ability to properly assist with duties on his farm. It also doesn't allow him to reach his full potential by doing something magnificent and leaving his mark. After being unable to finish off a creature that is stealing their food, Arlo's father leads him to finish it off and, in the process, his father dies after being washed away in a river during a tempestuous storm. This traumatizes Arlo, but soon after, he confronts the creature, a Tarzan-like boy named Spot. However, Arlo gets lost and has to find his way home and ends up forming an alliance with Spot.

I spent a good 10-20 minutes of this film (near the end of the first act and beginning of the second), watching it impartially. Given how I'm watching a Pixar film, the feeling of indifference is an uninvited one. My feelings about the film, in general, fluctuated throughout the film's 100 minutes (which end up feeling like 130 minutes, but we'll get to that). I submitted to it and accepted it during the first 15 minutes, finding myself quite pleased by its innocence, but was waiting for it to build up. After that, it gets a little complicated.

The reason I state this is because with all the film's strengths (and there are quite a few), the one anchor submerging it underwater is the Good Dinosaur, Arlo. Arlo is one of the most banal, unimpressive, predictable, toothless, ineffectual, and annoying protagonists in the Disney catalog. It may be the worst in the Pixar catalog. Every move he makes and every nuance he delivers is not surprising, but it's still so painfully derivative. You can predict his arc within the first ten minutes and I sat there, rolling my eyes, waiting for the coda of this protagonist to arrive, preferably sooner rather than later, I thought. The film itself already isn't very original (I picked up hints of Ice Age, Tarzan, The Lion King, Spirit: Stallion of the Cimmaron, any other children's film about a 'fraidy-cat hero trying to discover his inner strength, and so forth), so breeding that with a character, whose annoying scream is heard about every five minutes, is not exactly a recipe for success.

None of the other supporting characters are very refreshing and they drag the film down with it, as well...with one exception: Spot. His interaction with Arlo keeps the film afloat for a good long while. While Arlo is one of Pixar's worst characters, Spot is one of their best. It's also the perfect dichotomy with two characters fulfilling the opposite of their default reputations: a nervous dinosaur paired up with a brazen, wild child. Youthful pluckiness is nothing new, as isn't utilizing an animalistic human to offset an anthromorphic creature. However, the character is written with subtle charisma and effective gravitas and animated with simple, gripping, at times humorous, body language. How Spot's arc is wrapped up is one of the more engaging, touching, and effective aspects of the film. I believe if the film was told through Spot's perspective as a near-silent film, much like the short, Sanjay's Super Team, which includes some of the most breathtaking, hallucinatory, poppy animation in the PIXAR canon, in addition to some of the most potent storytelling with pitch-perfect timing, I would've been much more appreciative of the film.

Speaking of which, the animation in this film...my god! The characters, outside of Spot, aren't animated very uniquely or impressively, but the lush landscapes, the visually stimulating insects and small creatures, and its realistic geological environment all not only sit comfortably in PIXAR's animation gallery, but also one-ups itself, in terms of overall quality. It's the closest thing to PIXAR's equivalent of Avatar. PIX-atar, if you will. 

However, with all of these positive aspects, it's Arlo that brings the film down, to some extent. The story isn't all that original or even that busy, but the dreariness of Arlo never allows for the film to gain any energy to sustain itself. When Spot exits the picture, the last minutes of the film are all so telegraphed and passe that it makes the entire experience not feel worthwhile. If the main focus and backbone of the film is something so excruciatingly hackneyed, how can any investment be precipitated? As someone who hasn't seen Cars 2 and Brave, I feel that I can still safely, though not comfortably or firmly, say that this is PIXAR's weakest effort; a film not brimming with as much vision or personality or life as any of its past endeavors. It's not a lost cause, but it doesn't rise to its full potential. It's a sweet film, mind you, but not a special one, which is the greatest offense of all.

RATING: 2 1/2 stars out of four

Magnolia (1999)

Paul Thomas Anderson’s 1999 film, Magnolia, begins with a series of vignettes for approximately five minutes. Narrator Ricky Jay tells us of three different unrelated occurrences: the first one being the murder of a man at Greenberry Hill (the murderers last names were Green, Berry, and Hill), the second one being the death of a casino dealer and a war pilot who committed suicide and the interaction/connection they had, and the third one involving a man attempting to commit suicide, but ended up getting inadvertently shot and killed by his mother. The basic thread of these stories is the matter of chance, which is discussed quite lengthily. In another auteur’s hand, this could’ve came across as an insufferable, heavy-handed, self-indulgent, pretentious ploy to come across as more intelligent than the audience and as more unique than your average filmmaker, when in all actuality, is just being aggravatingly patronizing and overextending their welcome to the point of tedium. However, in Paul Thomas Anderson’s hands, he captivates us with those stories, leaving us waiting where they are going to lead us to. It’s a clever decision, among many, on Anderson’s part.

The film revolves around various characters that are all interconnected. There’s a police officer named Jim Kurring (John C. Reilly) who balances the duty of his job and his rapidly quick affection for Claudia Wilson (Melora Walters), a girl whose apartment he raided on the job. Claudia is the daughter of Jimmy Gator (Phillip Baker Hall), a game show host who has cancer, and Rose Gator (Melinda Dillon). One of the contestants on the show Gator hosts is Stanley Spector (Jeremy Blackman), a child genius pressured by his father (Michael Bowen) to succeed on the show. Donnie Smith (William H. Macy) is a former contestant on that show, whose life is going down the tubes and desperately wants braces to win the heart of a male bartender. The game show’s former producer is Earl Partridge (Jason Robards), who is dying of cancer. He is under the care of his wife, Linda (Julianne Moore), and Phil Parma (Phil Seymour Hoffman), who is given the task of finding his son, Frank Mackey (Tom Cruise), a flamboyant instructor on how to pick up women.

Yes, this is one of those type of films, a la 2005’s Crash. However, the genius of this film is that, unlike other films of this ilk, this one doesn’t particularly draw a direct web to how these characters relate. It’s there, but it’s rather vague, instead letting the dynamics unfold slowly and naturally. In fact, that’s how the script, written by Paul Thomas Anderson, is constructed, not just in terms of the relevance of the characters in their lives and their personal connections to each other, but also for their thematic relevance and draw.

The film introduces these characters by showing them either on TV or watching TV and near the end, you see a lot of them on telephones. With that statement, one would think that throughout everything going on in their lives, they all share an inability to create and maintain positive relationships, be it romantic or blood, instead finding more ease and connection with the imaginary, misleading paradise projected in a black box and that the challenge is for them to develop a stronger sensibility and connection to reality and the relationships that are present, but are never discovered or pursued. But this isn’t the case.

As the film progresses and the characters are given more careful observations, I began to think that the characters are all united by some form of tension in their lives that they are faced with: Jim simultaneously losing his gun and having a desperate desire to pursue Jim, despite his highly delicate and dignified position, Claudia’s desire to keep her cocaine addiction a secret from Jim, in order to not get arrested, Jimmy’s fight to survive cancer and keep his job, Stanley’s objective to succeed on the game show, his father’s pressure for Stanley to succeed, Donnie’s attempt to get money for braces, Linda’s need to support his ailing husband whilst dealing with other emotions arising from this unfortunate situation, Phil having to summon Frank to see his dad and Frank being confronted with a lie during an interview, as well as having to confront his sick father. While this is true, I soon felt that that conceit seemed too simplistic for a film as intricate as this.

I then wondered if the link connecting these characters was the idea that these characters have done something displeasing in the eyes of the Lord. I’ll get more into religious affiliations later, but in that mindset, I thought Anderson was presenting these characters as flawed under the eyes of God. Claudia’s a drug addict, Donnie plots to steal, both Earl and Linda have admitted to infidelity, Phil watches pornography, Jimmy is accused of molestation, and Frank is delivering messages in his seminars that could be identified as misogynistic, shallow, or both. While a case could be made for this, I felt that this idea still didn’t feel complete or entirely correct. Stanley could, I guess, be seen as disobeying his father, but his father is the one who is putting more pressure on Stanley than he needs. Jim is falling for a girl he just met while on duty, but I am confident in saying that it’d probably be a stretch to say that God would classify this as sinning. Then, I thought that the common thread maybe isn’t what they’re doing but how they react to it. By that I mean, they look for a way out in themselves, not through God. They resort from something as mere as wallowing in their own pity to something more severe, such as harming themselves. However, that still didn’t sound right to me. It still seemed like that didn’t fit well. It didn’t cohere easily or sound strong enough.

And then, that’s when it hit me. I’m sure the common bond of these characters could be interpreted in many ways, or maybe not, but my final perspective relating to the similarities between the characters is rather quite basic: the inherent quality of misery. All of these characters are feeling misery in some way. And that’s where Exodus 8:2 comes in. “But if you refuse to let them go...” In the context of the film, God is telling the sheer forces of misery to let these innocent people go.

Again, I’ve thoroughly discussed the possibilities for the common theme in all of these characters’ lives, but that’s the experience of the film. It draws you into the experience, letting details reveal themselves slowly but surely throughout the film’s 188 minute length. It’s the kind of film where you are engaged all the way through, but you are constantly asking questions. However, if you just surrender yourself to the experience as a whole, your questions will be answered. But then again, maybe they won’t. Like any experience, it is what you make of it.

Anyway, about Exodus 8:2. It is used as symbolism throughout the film. It’s in the forefront, but it’s actually quite subtle; one of those details you need to pay attention to, in order to recognize it. The placement of the verse works as playful humor, in the way it is placed in the film, and as tantalizing foreshadowing. There is a scene in the film where Wise Up by Aimee Mann plays on the soundtrack and the cast starts singing along to it in different locations. While eccentric, utterly original, and almost poetically funny, it is set up to be the true moment of clarity and catharsis in the film. However, the actual true moment is linked to Exodus 8:2, culminating in one of the most awe-inspiring and breathtaking images I have ever seen in a film. While arbitrary and mildly cartoonish, it serves as the dark culmination of the film and the emotional release of the film.

For all I talk about the symbolism and the structure of the screenplay and how it reveals both how the characters relate to each other personally and thematically, that’s more a byproduct of the film. Outside of that, the film has extreme emotional potence. I love how Robert Elswit’s cinematography and Jon Brion & Aimee Mann’s score is focused on both adding to the mood of the film and enhancing it. When we are just getting settled with the film, the camera holds back, showing the characters and locations, as it should, and Aimee Mann’s folksy vocals are graced upon us. However, as the film emotionally raises the stakes and heightens the emotions, the camera becomes more intimate with the actors, honing in on their faces, as if the camera wants to transport into the actors’ minds, but Elswit does such a masterful job at framing the actors at their most emotional states of being that we get every beat, every nuance present. And Jon Brion’s instrumental half of the score during these moments becomes unrelenting, as it swells larger and larger, making the atmosphere unnerving. Then, when it gets “calm,” it’s back to the laid-back, expansive, gorgeous camerawork and the voice of Aimee Mann. The location adds to the atmosphere, as well. In the beginning of the film, the weather is partly cloudy, but still pleasant. As the film progresses, it begins to rain. Showers turn into much heavier rain and near the end, the rain stops at a very odd place, leaving us with a haunting aura of stillness that lingers before God gets the last word in.

Yes, this is a lengthy movie. In fact, the leisurely, meticulous structure of the script makes a three-hour movie actually feel quite longer. However, that is only another pro to the movie. The length of the film actually makes each plotline emotionally taut. The longer the stories continue, the more Anderson subtly adds more layers to them. And, of course, the movie is bolstered by an astounding cast, one of the best ever assembled. O’Reilly plays Officer Jim as desperate, but also stoic. Melora Waters portrays Claudia with that same desperation, but with such aching vulnerability and helplessness that you can’t help but pity her, and her dynamic with Jim is an ingenious juxtaposition. Phillip Baker Hall gives a subtle but passionate performance and Melinda Dillon goes from crying over destroyed turkey in A Christmas Story to emotionally liberating herself in such a gut-wrenching way in one of the film’s strongest moments. Jason Robards portrays Earl with warmth and heart, Julianne Moore brings a manic determination to her performance, and Philip Seymour Hoffman is utterly complex, bringing vulnerability and passion to his role, as well. William H. Macy plays Donnie with his usual brand of nervous, Woody Allen-like mannerisms, but his character unfolds in so many different ways that Macy creates such strong emotional moments for him that it’s hard not to feel instantly sad for him. Michael Bowen nails the role of Stanley’s father, while little Jeremy Blackman is surprisingly effective and valiant as Stanley. The stand-out and my personal favorite is Tom Cruise. Cruise has never been more brilliant or powerful than here, as he brings a crazed, demented intensity to his role and hits every mark on the tonal scale impeccably.

To put it bluntly, the film is one of the most spellbinding, intelligent, and spectacular films I have ever seen. It is also one of the ballsiest. Its ability and penchant to be philosophical, cerebral, dramatic, and even humorous, sometimes combined in a single scene, is utterly remarkable and fascinating. I can’t see how there is any other film that came out in 1999 that outdid or bettered Magnolia.

RATING: Four out of four stars!

The Peanuts Movie (2015)

You know, watching the Ice Age short, “Cosmic Scrat-tosphere,” and then watching the movie that comes after it is a stark, vast contrast. While the short is very funny, it’s taut, spry, rapid, has a giddy, Adderall-like energy, and is based around slapstick, constant oneuppances of humorous conceits, and at times, some admittedly lame puns. The Peanuts Movie is loose, free, sophisticated, and interspersed with the slapstick, is a real cerebral wit. It not only makes you realize how special it is from other children movie fare, but it also makes you realize how much the Peanuts ouevre is a entity, a brand all its own. How many other kid’s movies can find suspense and tension and captivation in the fate of a book report, for God’s sake? It reminds the viewer how Schulz’s unique vision has continuously set itself apart from other children’s media since its humble beginnings as a comic strip.

The plot doesn’t sizzle and ooze with any real surprise, but that’s the form for you. In a nutshell, the film revolves around America’s most lovably downbeat, sullen, insecure child, Charlie Brown, as well as his fellow child companions. Charlie is saddled with disappoinments and prone to bad luck. He wants to be something, but how can he when even his damn kite won’t cooperate with him. His interest in being a better, more confident, more successful version of himself is heightened when the Little Red-Haired Girl enters his life and the remainder of the film is Charlie Brown trying to regain her attention, as well as her admiration, all the while dealing with the idiosyncrasies and escpades of his friends and especially his dog, Snoopy.

In an era where CGI is often seen as poison for adaptations of popular, beloved source materials, it’s refreshing to see the Peanuts in their sketchy, minimal, yet utterly winsome style. What Blue Sky Studios has done that is utterly captivating is preserve the style and framework of Schulz’s drawings, but adapted them to a new incarnation. They don’t change anything, except the technological method of executing it all. It’s a massive risk, as it could have easily appeared stiff and lifeless, but the animators and especially director Steve Marino, a man well-experienced in the Blue Sky Studios community (Horton Hears a Who, Ice Age 4), do a perfect job, bringing to life the best animation I have ever seen in a Blue Sky Studios film.

However, that wouldn’t have meant anything if these elements prevalent in the Peanuts works was missing: the charm, the intellect, and the accessible maturity. Thankfully, all of these are firmly intact, present, and accounted for, thanks to screenwriters Cornelius Uliano and the son and grandson of Charles M. Schulz. Anybody could have the offspring of the creator of the original material work on an adaption, but it takes a real insight, a profound knowledge and sixth sense of the core of the material, to make it fully special. Bryan and Steve Schulz possess it and what we get is a pure, warm, good-hearted, breezy romp.

Why it works is because it doesn’t pander nor talk down to kids. It displays the intelligence of children in a way that isn’t cosmic or overly precocious. Instead of overblowing intelligence of kids, it merely punctuates it and makes it identifiable. Very few children’s movies hit that sweet spot of staying sincere and consistent with itself and its content that it can simultaneously appeal to both children and adults without breaking a sweat. It helps that we have had decades and generations of preparation, but this film works by itself, in addition to being a wonderful passion project of the Peanuts and an introductory piece of the Peanuts. The characters’ quirks are already funny on their own merit and they are just as funny when you are familiar with them from past experience. And while certain homages and callbacks to original Peanuts projects are funnier when one has been familiarized with the work, they still work on the level that kids can laugh, as well. As stated before, there is some pervasive physical humor, but it is meticulously crafted, rather than being tight and frenetic.

Nothing is accentuated more than past Peanuts material. It’s more of an continuation of the work that picks up practically where it left off (although, I maybe shouldn’t say that until I see I Want a Dog for Christmas, Charlie Brown). It’s kept even and simple. The voice actors do a good job with their roles. None of them are standouts per se, but they all possess the right timing, tone, and charisma for their characters. It’s children playing children, so...brava! It’s exciting to see Bill Melendez reprise his role as Snoopy and Woodstock via archival audio and Kristin Chenowth (puzzling casting choice) plays Fifi, Snoopy’s love interest in his fantasies as a WWI flying ace. The score is also left untouched, sticking to basic compositions and the familiar riffs and tunes we are all familiar with. And it is just as magical now as it was then. Hell, it begins with Schroder playing the Twentieth Century Fox fanfare. If that isn’t mind-blowingly awesome, I don't know what is.

Now, as much as I praise the film, it’s nothing spectacular. Because the Peanuts’ humor and format is so simple, it gets a little repetitive and one-note by the third act. It’s still adorable and enjoyable, but not as strong as the first two-thirds, which is different from past Peanuts movies like, You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown or Snoopy Come Home. They are entertaining whilst staying subtle and easygoing throughout, but on a level where no one part of the film is better than the other. This cinematic adaptation has slightly more energy than those two films, but because it is so bare-bones in theory and execution, it makes it start to taper at times. Plus, some of the homages do feel a little forced and a scene where Charlie Brown does the chicken dance is painfully pandering. Also, while I love the score, any other music tacked on is as generic and bland as you can get. I mean, I love Meghan Trainor, but I could live without hearing, “Better When I’m Dancing” ever again.

Adaptations or re-tellings of anything arrive in full force year after year, but it seems that this year, we are getting a little more range with them. Whether it is watching Joseph Gordon-Levitt suspensefully tightrope on the Twin Towers, revealing of the revelance of NWA, bringing Shaun the Sheep to the masses, having pirates groove to “Smells Like Teen Spirit” (dear God), ending the Alvin and the Chipmunks franchise (one can only hope), or with this movie, it seems as if this year, the adaptations, re-tellings, and even biopics and sequels ostensibly have a desire to at least try and be different, more invigorating than just standard, gargatuan blockbusters, for better or for worse. I’m not saying there are plunging into extreme, superior intellectual revelations or discoveries, but there’s a quality that again, for better or for worse, seems to set this year apart from others. And this movie probably has the heaviest, most delicate responsibility and ambition of them all, this side of Star Wars. Yet, what we see is something that seems so effortless. Maybe because it’s hard to screw up a Peanuts movie, unless you both leave what isn’t broken and change what won’t hurt. This movie manages this task, thus being the best Blue Sky Studios film I’ve seen. Keep in mind, that’s not saying much for Blue Sky Studios, but it’s still complimentary. It’s a nice film. Very nice.

RATING: A high three out of four stars!