How about a film about the existential conundrum of religious faith?

Muppets Most Wanted

(2014)

It’s a funny kind of a way to express one’s love for a property and its characters; spending a disproportionate amount of time on wholly new ones. True, a series shouldn’t stay still, or rest on its laurels, but if the innovation lacks any of the flair and that made it so good in the first place it would be better not to bother. Acknowledging this, as Muppets Most Wanted sort of does several times, can only do so much to affirm the self-referential wit for which the series is famous; it’s only clever to say you’re crappy if you’re actually not. This seventh (theatrical) sequel undoubtedly has its moments, but in many respects it perpetuates the problems of its predecessor rather than remedying them.

Writer-director James Bobin (and co-writer Nicholas Stoller) they immediately face up to the task in hand with the We’re Doing a Sequel song (“It looks like they’ve ordered a sequel, and everybody knows that the sequel’s not quite as good”). But the essential starting point in counteracting this would have been to get rid of Walter, introduced via the last picture’s banal conceit of a character that wanted to join the Muppets. Bobin and Stoller probably didn’t want to admit they got it wrong, so again this dullest of felt fellows eats up screen time that should have been reserved for the many more vibrant players in the Muppet-verse. And again, at one point they very nearly acknowledge that they spent a whole movie getting him to join up, “Maybe even at the expense of other long-standing beloved Muppets”, as Rizzo opines (exit scene right with Robin).

That Walter is ever-present suggests bloody-mindedness on the parts of Bobin and Stoller, however. The plot they come up with this time isn’t necessarily so bad, except we’ve already had The Great Mupper Caper; criminals hijack the Muppet European Tour in order to perpetrate a series of heists. This fosters a brace of cameos and different destinations. Unfortunately, both new characters (human and muppet) fail to capture the lunacy of the series at its best.

Ricky Gervais is perhaps the most irritating comedy actor on the planet, so his smug mug nuzzling up to the Muppets is off-putting in the extreme. He plays tour manager Dominic Badguy, lackey of arch criminal Constantine. The latter, a ringer for Kermit (aside from a prominent mole), escapes from a Siberian gulag and swaps places with the green Muppet. Who finds it’s not easy being incarcerated. It might have been a better bet to go with the Swedish Chef’s suggestion for the sequel (“How about a film about the existential conundrum of religious faith?”)

Much play is made of how no one notices Kermit’s replacement, despite a completely incongruous accent, and such obvious repetitions are Muppet bread-and-butter. But the evil frog fizzles as a character so his interaction with the other Muppets is a one-joke affair that isn’t especially amusing. Kermit fares better in the gulag, with a game Tina Fey as the warden besotted with him and a selection of amusing inmates. There’s Danny Trejo (as Danny Trejo, which given that he really has been inside is particularly on-the-nose) singing (Bret McKenzie’s songs are yet again one of the highlights, although the best track is a cover of Working in a Coal Mine, and fellow Conchord Jermaine Clement perfectly fits into the Muppet world as the Prison King) and Ray Liotta delivery some classic Liotta deadpan.

By far the superior subplot, which hits the nail on the head in offering up Muppet-human interplay at its best, is Sam the Eagle’s CIA agent teaming up Ty Burrell’s Interpol agent Jean Pierre Napoleon. Burrell brings just the right measure of comedic excess (with an appropriately outrageous accent) while stuffy Sam is the straightmuppet. Travelling around in a very tiny car, and indulging running through a series of French stereotypes (Napoleon’s lunch hour lasts six hours) there’s an irresistible balance between not such great sense (“The comedian bear is the Lemur! That is brilliant!”) and sheer idiocy (“The comedian bear is planning on stealing the Tower of London!”)

Cameos include Tom Hiddleston as The Great Escapo, Celine Dion duetting with Miss Piggy, Christopher Waltz as himself , Usher as an usher (“What kind of an usher are you?”) and Zach Galifianakis as a wedding guest (“Well, this is the best Muppet wedding ever!”). There are also some fine gags along the way; Fozzie posing as a bear skin rug, Kermit and Constantine doing the Groucho Marx mirror routine, babies stealing the crown jewels (“Who would suspect babies of stealing the crown jewels. Look at their sweet faces!”), flamingos singing the Macarena, and Fozzie’s response to the news that Badguy has been bribing journalists to write great reviews (“Oh, why didn’t we ever think of that?”)

Rowlf: (Reading the German sign) Die Muppets?

Waldorf: I can’t believe the reviews are out so early.

Statler: Maybe that’s the suggestion box.

Muppet movies are never easy to pull off; their magic is best engineered in TV sketch format, or playing off a recognisable story (Christmas Carol and Treasure Island both work reasonably well). Statler and Waldorf barely get a look in, the same with Gonzo. There’s also an unconvincing moral about cuddly values (“We’re a family”). Muppets Most Wanted is well shot, I’ll give it that, but it’s a “That’ll do” affair, much the way Fierce Creatures wasn’t a worthy re-assemblage of the Wanda team. The new characters are duff (they would have been better off featuring ‘80s Robot prominently instead of Walter, if they had to bring back a new character, but he’s consigned to extra status) and the plot is determinedly unadventurous.

Most Wanted made less than half as much money as its predecessor, which in part suggests The Muppets itself wasn’t up to scratch (nostalgia sold tickets as much as anything) but it’s also indicative of word of mouth. I can’t lay all the blame Gervais, although he’s a blight on any motion picture; Stoller and Bobin’s contributions are persistently patchy. If the rest of the picture were as inspired as the Sam/Burrell scenes, though, this would have been top tier Muppet moviedom.

Comments

She was addicted to Tums for a while.

Marriage Story (2019)
(SPOILERS) I don’t tend to fall heavily for Noah Baumbach fare. He’s undoubtedly a distinctive voice – even if his collaborations with Wes Anderson are the least of that director’s efforts – but his devotion to an exclusive, rarefied New York bubble becomes ever more off-putting with each new project. And ever more identifiable as being a lesser chronicler of the city’s privileged quirks than his now disinherited forbear Woody Allen, who at his peak mastered a balancing act between the insightful, hilarious and self-effacing. Marriage Story finds Baumbach going yet again where Woody went before, this time brushing up against the director’s Ingmar Bergman fixation.

You can’t climb a ladder, no. But you can skip like a goat into a bar.

Juno and the Paycock (1930)
(SPOILERS) Hitchcock’s second sound feature. Such was the lustre of this technological advance that a wordy play was picked. By Sean O’Casey, upon whom Hitchcock based the prophet of doom at the end of The Birds. Juno and the Paycock, set in 1922 during the Irish Civil War, begins as a broad comedy of domestic manners, but by the end has descended into full-blown Greek (or Catholic) tragedy. As such, it’s an uneven but still watchable affair, even if Hitch does nothing to disguise its stage origins.

I mean, I am just a dumb bunny, but, we are good at multiplying.

Zootropolis (2016)
(SPOILERS) The key to Zootropolis’ creative success isn’t so much the conceit of its much-vaunted allegory regarding prejudice and equality, or – conversely – the fun to be had riffing on animal stereotypes (simultaneously clever and obvious), or even the appealing central duo voiced by Ginnifier Goodwin (as first rabbit cop Judy Hopps) and Jason Bateman (fox hustler Nick Wilde). Rather, it’s coming armed with that rarity for an animation; a well-sustained plot that doesn’t devolve into overblown set pieces or rest on the easy laurels of musical numbers and montages.

We live in a twilight world.

Tenet (2020)
(SPOILERS) I’ve endured a fair few confusingly-executed action sequences in movies – more than enough, actually – but I don’t think I’ve previously had the odd experience of being on the edge of my seat during one while simultaneously failing to understand its objectives and how those objectives are being attempted. Which happened a few times during Tenet. If I stroll over to the Wiki page and read the plot synopsis, it is fairly explicable (fairly) but as a first dive into this Christopher Nolan film, I frequently found it, if not impenetrable, then most definitely opaque.

You know what I think? I think he just wants to see one cook up close.

The Green Mile (1999)
(SPOILERS) There’s something very satisfying about the unhurried confidence of the storytelling in Frank Darabont’s two prison-set Stephen King adaptations (I’m less beholden to supermarket sweep The Mist); it’s sure, measured and precise, certain that the journey you’re being take on justifies the (indulgent) time spent, without the need for flashy visuals or ornate twists (the twists there are feel entirely germane – with a notable exception – as if they could only be that way). But. The Green Mile has rightly come under scrutiny for its reliance on – or to be more precise, building its foundation on – the “Magical Negro” trope, served with a mild sprinkling of idiot savant (so in respect of the latter, a Best Supporting Actor nomination was virtually guaranteed). One might argue that Stephen King’s magical realist narrative flourishes well-worn narrative ploys and characterisations at every stage – such that John Coffey’s initials are announcement enough of his…

Do you read Sutter Cane?

In the Mouth of Madness (1994)
(SPOILERS) The concluding chapter of John Carpenter’s unofficial Apocalypse Trilogy (preceded by The Thing and Prince of Darkness) is also, sadly, his last great movie. Indeed, it stands apart in the qualitative wilderness that beset him during the ‘90s (not for want of output). Michael De Luca’s screenplay had been doing the rounds since the ‘80s, even turned down by Carpenter at one point, and it proves ideal fodder for the director, bringing out the best in him. Even cinematographer Gary K Kibbe seems inspired enough to rise to the occasion. It could do without the chugging rawk soundtrack, perhaps, but then, that was increasingly where Carpenter’s interests resided (as opposed to making decent movies).

Maybe the dingo ate your baby.

Seinfeld 2.9: The Stranded
The Premise
George and Elaine are stranded at a party in Long Island, with a disgruntled hostess.

A herbal enema should fix you up.

Never Say Never Again (1983)
(SPOILERS) There are plenty of sub-par Bonds in the official (Eon) franchise, several of them even weaker than this opportunistic remake of Thunderball, but they do still feel like Bond movies. Never Say Never Again, despite – or possibly because he’s part of it – featuring the much-vaunted, title-referencing return of the Sean Connery to the lead role, only ever feels like a cheap imitation. And yet, reputedly, it cost more than the same year’s Rog outing Octopussy.

My name is Dr. King Schultz, this is my valet, Django, and these are our horses, Fritz, and Tony.

Django Unchained (2012)
(MINOR SPOILERS) Since the painful misstep of Grindhouse/Death Proof, Quentin Tarantino has regained the higher ground like never before. Pulp Fiction, his previous commercial and critical peak, has been at very least equalled by the back-to-back hits of Inglourious Basterds and Django Unchained. Having been underwhelmed by his post Pulp Fiction efforts (albeit, I admired his technical advances as a director in Kill Bill), I was pleasantly surprised by Inglourious Basterds. It was no work of genius (so not Pulp Fiction) by any means, but there was a gleeful irreverence in its treatment of history and even to the nominal heroic status of its titular protagonists. Tonally, it was a good fit for the director’s “cool” aesthetic. As a purveyor of postmodern pastiche, where the surface level is the subtext, in some ways he was operating at his zenith. Django Unchained is a retreat from that position, the director caught in the tug between his all-important aesthetic pr…

He tasks me. He tasks me, and I shall have him.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
(1982)
(SPOILERS) I don’t love Star Trek, but I do love Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. That probably isn’t just me, but a common refrain of many a non-devotee of the series. Although, it used to apply to The Voyage Home (the funny one, with the whales, the Star Trek even the target audience for Three Men and a Baby could enjoy). Unfortunately, its high regard has also become the desperate, self-destructive, song-and-verse, be-all-and-end-all of the overlords of the franchise itself, in whichever iteration, it seems. This is understandable to an extent, as Khan is that rare movie sequel made to transcendent effect on almost every level, and one that stands the test of time every bit as well (better, even) as when it was first unveiled.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

Search This Blog