Skip to main content

When was it we came to adopt man into the jungle?

The Jungle Book
(2016)

(SPOILERS) It might seem like I went into The Jungle Book with my mind made up, since I had my doubts in advance, and as it turns out, I didn’t love it. It comes armed with a number of very evident virtues, not least quite incredible, top-to-bottom (well, aside from Neel Sethi) photoreal CGI that pulls off the estimable feat of being anthropomorphic without ever entering the realm of uncanny valley. In addition, this is a much more successful take on Disney animated classics than last year’s Cinderella retread. And yet, it still has its cap firmly in hand to its 1967 predecessor. Where Jon Favreau’s film succeeds is invariably where it has the mind to break free from those shackles, which unfortunately it isn’t often enough.


Disney chairman Alan Horn talked up the picture prior to release as one he envisaged taking a more realistic (darker, more muscular) approach than Wolfgang Reitherman’s original. As such, he held his hands up that any failure could be pinned on him. Luckily, he hasn’t come away with egg on his face, but as I see it he could have and should have pushed further. The best elements of The Jungle Book (in particular the terrific first half hour) are dramatic ones, but whenever it takes its peddle off the metal and rehearses Mowgli’s interactions from the earlier film, it’s caught performing an inferior riff on superior material (right down to the songs, which while not as ill-fitting or intrusive as some reports suggest, are simply unnecessary).


I doubt its deficiencies will matter to most, though, as this remake’s trump card is constantly on display, in every inch of every scene. There’s never a moment you’d believe this was filmed on a soundstage, so detailed and persuasive is every pixel. If Baloo is a fairly generic rendition of a bear (you can see CGI bears during any given ad break, riding the tube), more so as he is voiced by Bill Murray doing a never-more-generic rendition of Bill Murray (which means he can’t fail to make you laugh occasionally – Baloo’s ruse concerning hibernation is very funny, his response(s) to being overrun with apes likewise – but he’s running on fumes), Bagheera is quite stunning, and Ben Kingsley, probably more similar to the original’s (Sebastian Cabot) character than anyone else in the cast, is a masterfully reassuring vocal presence: warm, responsible, compassionate.


Idris Elba is the surprise, as I didn’t think he stood a chance making Shere Khan distinctive (I mean relative to George Sanders; who could top George Sanders? It’s quite impossible). He scores by being distinctly different. To borrow from Anthony Horowitz’s controversial comments on the actor as a potential James Bond, he makes Shere Khan the very opposite of suave (although I’d hesitate to call him “street”). This incarnation is as rough, tough, cruel and cunning as they come, scarred by a close encounter with man’s red flower and thus given strong motivation in his hatred for Mowgli.


This is the argument for a new reading of Kipling at its most persuasive. Where Sanders is a very menacing hoot, Elba is relentless and terrifying. After their failure to deliver the man cub to him, Shere Khan arrives casually and confidently at the wolf den, where he assumes Akela’s (Giancarlo Esposito) top spot before killing him. Later he plays with the young cubs in the most unnerving manner, as Raksha (Lupita Nyong’o) looks on in dread of what he may administer next. Arriving after Elba’s very funny performance in Zootropolis/ Zootopia/
Zoomania, he may have finally found his Hollywood niche, just unexpectedly invisibly.


If this is the kind of approach we might expect from the now-not-at-all-imminent Andy Serkis’ Jungle Book: Origins, rumoured to be (even) darker in tone, I’m much more interested in it than the already announced The Jungle Book 2. As much as some of the changes here work (offing Akela), others have mixed results. Having Mowgli’s father killed by Shere Khan is classically lazy Hollywood shorthand motivation; it’s all-too-familiar, turning the picture into a faintly bland revenge tale and requiring young Sethi to emote a little more than is in his wheelhouse (Favreau generally knows best how to shoot around his limitations as a performer, bringing out his naturalness, but there’s no mistaking him for a prodigy, particularly when required, near enough, to exclaim “Get the hell out of my jungle!”)


It’s also, in part, quite a strange sequence with which to end the picture; Mowgli burns down half the jungle in order to get even with one tiger (that only wants to kill man anyway, and generally observes the rules of its habitat). Favreau and screenwriter Justin Marks appear to be commenting on the inherent capacity of man to wreak havoc and destruction no matter what his better intentions may be, so should Mowgli’s reward for indulging such selfish, baser instincts really be a hero’s welcome, and acceptance and celebration as never before?


It reminded me of the much derided climax to Man of Steel, in which Superman topples Zod but at the expense of many Metropolitans, only with animals suffering instead. Perhaps Mowgli will meet his own Batman in the sequel, and be asked to recompense for all those unfortunate creatures he inadvertently burned to death? With this, and elephants building dams and diverting rivers – traditionally the kind of activity that puts paid to natural environments – it felt like the picture was sending out some muddled messages (the elephants also seem remarkably capable, except when it requires a human to save a babe of theirs from a pit).


As much of a problem is that Mowgli remaining in the jungle for a cash-grab sequel removes the more impactful rites of passage element, and bittersweet ending, of the animated version (although, to be fair, Kipling has his cake and eats it, with Mowgli journeying back and forth between worlds). There isn’t really any price to be paid for anything here, and no lesson to be learned. The standing in solidarity against Shere Khan might have been a stronger trope if Mowgli had been less instrumental in his defeat. Instead, and throughout, he displays a rather wearisome flair for MacGyver-esque inventiveness and gadgetry.


Other sequences are fine but lack sufficient individuality to stand out. Generally, the 3D is immersive, in that it creates a whole world but you’re aren’t constantly conscious of the effect it is having. A sequence such as Kaa the snake (Scarlett Johansson) hypnotising Mowgli is more obviously pulling out the stops, but as with the darker tone, it could have gone further. As such, it either suggests the limits of Favreau’s visual imagination or uneasiness over really going for broke.


By the time we reach King Louie (Christopher Walken) and his temple ruins, I was feeling the fatigue of a picture straightjacketed into hitting the marks of the original when it should have been encouraged to breathe more, and become sufficiently its own thing. Walken’s idiosyncratic delivery, particularly when presented in a manner nodding to Colonel Kurtz, is arresting (and he squeezes Gigantopithecus into a lyrical, which takes some doing), but the sequence is generally by-numbers, replacing Reitherman’s delightfully witty choreography with laboured, effects-heavy mass-destruction.


So The Jungle Book is proving a massive hit. It reached the top, it didn’t stop, but that’s not what’s bothering me. Favreau and his artists have undoubtedly rendered a triumphant visual feast, but it isn’t enough to overwhelm memories of the original, comparison with which is unavoidable due to sticking resolutely to the same plotline, and sporadically also forcing in its tunes. None of the live action Disneys so far have sufficiently embraced the chance to do something fresh. The Jungle Book has the makings of such a sensibility, but ultimately lacks the courage of its convictions.  I’d like to think the sequel might be more forceful, since it will no longer have the animation to source (although you can bet we’ll get “untapped material”, thus the elephants and vultures will talk next time), but Favreau’s track record on follow-ups doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.


Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.
Labels:

Popular posts from this blog

Your Mickey Mouse is one big stupid dope!

Enemy Mine (1985) (SPOILERS) The essential dynamic of Enemy Mine – sworn enemies overcome their differences to become firm friends – was a well-ploughed one when it was made, such that it led to TV Tropes assuming, since edited, that it took its title from an existing phrase (Barry Longyear, author of the 1979 novella, made it up, inspired by the 1961 David Niven film The Best of Enemies ). The Film Yearbook Volume 5 opined that that Wolfgang Petersen’s picture “ lacks the gritty sauciness of Hell in the Pacific”; John Boorman’s WWII film stranded Lee Marvin and Toshiro Mifune on a desert island and had them first duking it out before becoming reluctant bedfellows. Perhaps germanely, both movies were box office flops.
Read more

If I do nothing else, I will convince them that Herbert Stempel knows what won the goddam Academy Award for Best goddam Picture of 1955. That’s what I’m going to accomplish.

Quiz Show (1994) (SPOILERS) Quiz Show perfectly encapsulates a certain brand of Best Picture nominee: the staid, respectable, diligent historical episode, a morality tale in response to which the Academy can nod their heads approvingly and discerningly, feeding as it does their own vainglorious self-image about how times and attitudes have changed, in part thanks to their own virtuousness. Robert Redford’s film about the 1950s Twenty-One quiz show scandals is immaculately made, boasts a notable cast and is guided by a strong screenplay from Paul Attanasio (who, on television, had just created the seminal Homicide: Life on the Streets ), but it lacks that something extra that pushes it into truly memorable territory.
Read more

Other monks will meet their deaths here. And they too will have blackened fingers. And blackened tongues.

The Name of the Rose (1986) (SPOILERS) Umberto Eco wasn’t awfully impressed by Jean Jacques-Annaud’s adaptation of his novel – or “ palimpsest of Umberto Eco’s novel ” as the opening titles announce – to the extent that he nixed further movie versions of his work. Later, he amended that view, calling it “ a nice movie ”. He also, for balance, labelled The Name of the Rose his worst novel – “ I hate this book and I hope you hate it too ”. Essentially, he was begrudging its renown at the expense of his later “ superior ” novels. I didn’t hate the novel, although I do prefer the movie, probably because I saw it first and it was everything I wanted from a medieval Sherlock Holmes movie set in a monastery and devoted to forbidden books, knowledge and opinions.
Read more

Say hello to the Scream Extractor.

Monsters, Inc. (2001) (SPOILERS) I was never the greatest fan of Monsters, Inc. , even before charges began to be levelled regarding its “true” subtext. I didn’t much care for the characters, and I particularly didn’t like the way Pixar’s directors injected their own parenting/ childhood nostalgia into their plots. Something that just seems to go on with their fare ad infinitum. Which means the Pixars I preferred tended to be the Brad Bird ones. You know, the alleged objectivist. Now, though, we learn Pixar has always been about the adrenochrome, so there’s no going back…
Read more

No one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself.

The Matrix  (1999) (SPOILERS) Twenty years on, and the articles are on the defining nature of The Matrix are piling up, most of them touching on how its world has become a reality, or maybe always was one. At the time, its premise was engaging enough, but it was the sum total of the package that cast a spell – the bullet time, the fashions, the soundtrack, the comic book-as-live-action framing and styling – not to mention it being probably the first movie to embrace and reflect the burgeoning Internet ( Hackers doesn’t really count), and subsequently to really ride the crest of the DVD boom wave. And now? Now it’s still really, really good.
Read more

All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies.

Watership Down (1978) (SPOILERS) I only read Watership Down recently, despite having loved the film from the first, and I was immediately impressed with how faithful, albeit inevitably compacted, Martin Rosen’s adaptation is. It manages to translate the lyrical, mythic and metaphysical qualities of Richard Adams’ novel without succumbing to dumbing down or the urge to cater for a broader or younger audience. It may be true that parents are the ones who get most concerned over the more disturbing elements of the picture but, given the maturity of the content, it remains a surprise that, as with 2001: A Space Odyssey (which may on the face of it seem like an odd bedfellow), this doesn’t garner a PG certificate. As the makers noted, Watership Down is at least in part an Exodus story, but the biblical implications extend beyond Hazel merely leading his fluffle to the titular promised land. There is a prevalent spiritual dimension to this rabbit universe, one very much
Read more

Piece by piece, the camel enters the couscous.

The Forgiven (2021) (SPOILERS) By this point, the differences between filmmaker John Michael McDonagh and his younger brother, filmmaker and playwright Martin McDonagh, are fairly clearly established. Both wear badges of irreverence and provocation in their writing, and a willingness to tackle – or take pot-shots – at bigger issues, ones that may find them dangling their toes in hot water. But Martin receives the lion’s share of the critical attention, while John is generally recognised as the slightly lesser light. Sure, some might mistake Seven Psychopaths for a John movie, and Calvary for a Martin one, but there’s a more flagrant sense of attention seeking in John’s work, and concomitantly less substance. The Forgiven is clearly aiming more in the expressly substantial vein of John’s earlier Calvary, but it ultimately bears the same kind of issues in delivery.
Read more

In a few moments, you will have an experience that will seem completely real. It will be the result of your subconscious fears transformed into your conscious awareness.

Brainstorm (1983) (SPOILERS) Might Brainstorm have been the next big thing – a ground-breaking, game-changing cinematic spectacle that had as far reaching consequences as Star Wars (special effects) or Avatar (3D) – if only Douglas Trumbull had been allowed to persevere with his patented “Showscan” process (70mm film photographed and projected at 60 frames per second)? I suspect not; one only has to look at the not-so-far-removed experiment of Ang Lee with Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk , and how that went down like a bag of cold sick, to doubt that any innovation will necessarily catch on (although Trumbull at least had a narrative hinge on which to turn his “more real than real” imagery, whereas Lee’s pretty much boiled down to “because it was there”). Brainstorm ’s story is, though, like its title, possibly too cerebral, too much concerned with the consciousness and touting too little of the cloyingly affirmative that Bruce Rubin inevitably brings to his screenplays. T
Read more

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.
Read more

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.
Read more