You have to get through your fear to see the beauty on the other side.

The Good Dinosaur

(2015)

(SPOILERS) When a picture arrives as misconceived, misguided and generally misbegotten as The Good Dinosaur, and one knows it already went through extensive reworking to get here (resulting in its release being put back a year), one is left wondering how much worse the original conception can possibly have been. Surely it couldn’t have been more aesthetically challenged (the characters) or narratively less stimulating (a journey in which you come to know yourself – admittedly, it’s the classic construct, and there’s nothing at all wrong with that, only in how it arranges itself here). I’m not necessarily advocating the notion of Pixar seeing what was stewing and scrapping it completely (as seems to have happened to DreamWorks’ languishing B.O.O.), but it’s clear that, fall all their rigorous vetting and testing of ideas, they have just as significant blind spots as anyone out there; most usually, their particular problem starts with not being able to see beyond a saccharine, affirmative message.

Disney is no stranger to undistinguished dino productions, of course. Paul Verhoeven’s Dinosaur became the entirely forgettable feature of the same name directed by Eric Leighton and Ralph Zondag about a decade and a half ago. Bo Peterson (Up) was initially one of The Good Dinosaur’s directors, the premise being his, before Peter Sohn (previously only credited with shorts) took sole responsibility. It seems Peterson gave up over third act issues, but Pixar clearly had problems addressing the endemic ones (en route there were changes in characters, conception of the dinosaur community, voice casting).

There were also size issues; the difference between Spot (the boy) and Arlo (the lead Apatosaurus, who makes the dinos in The Flintstones look scientifically plausible) was significant, and Lasseter et al wanted to emphasise the boy and his dog (dino and his boy) aspect. Pixar has survived tormented features before (Ratatouille, Brave, the latter perhaps their most underrated film), but this one seemed to be fatally skewered on several fundamental levels, ones no amount of tinkering could remedy.

The high-concept isn’t in and of itself a problem; dinosaurs have evolved while humans have remained primitive. The developed reptile isn’t exactly a new one, from conspiracy theories (reptilian bloodlines) to popular science fiction (Doctor Who’s Silurians and Sea Devils, bemoaning the swarm of ape primitives infesting their once-fine planet). And that Whoopi Goldberg movie. And Super Mario Bros. There was even an early ‘90s Jim Henson dinosaur sitcom that substituted humans for dinosaurs, much as Sohn’s film. Although, that made them visibly evolved. Here, we have dinosaurs walking on all fours, capable of constructing houses yet unable to furnish themselves with clothes. Meanwhile the canine humans cover their nakedness. Obviously, this is a kids’ movie, but that doesn’t mean the concept isn’t a confused at its very genesis. It’s right there in photo real landscapes, contrasting distractingly with the overtly cartoonish characters.

And that’s just Problem One. Right from the off, this is aesthetically displeasing, and I’m sure that was half the battle for audiences lost right there. In attempting to make Arlo soft and relatable, mammalian even, Pixar have made him nothing like a dinosaur. More like a generic plush toy no kid would want to own; a dinosaur by way of Nick Park’s Wallace. Also, in attempting to making him different – a misfit, timid, maladjusted dinosaur, just like a lot of actual kids who will be watching, minus the dinosaur bit – the elements are stacked against him; he’s goofy-looking, and useless. Spot is as bad, a child as a faithful mutt, trying to bridge a line between infant and untamed, and ending up with the Feral Kid from Mad Max 2 as inspiration. The designs border on the grotesque, rather than the cute (contrastingly, styracosaurus Forrest Woodbush and the menagerie in his horns are quite appealing, but we only spend a couple of minutes in his/their company).

Apparently the premise was designed to undermine the ideas of “what dinosaurs represent today, and how they are represented in stereotypes”. Except, they picked vegetarians as their protagonists, and you can see immediately that, as somewhat muddled as its delivery is, Zootopia was instantly more successful at addressing the idea of preconceptions. The concept here simply doesn’t support the content. Turning the picture into a part-Deliverance, part-western doesn’t help either, as neither device embraces the dinosaurs themselves. Additionally, it might not have been the best decision to have the characters sound like Tow Mater from Cars, just not quite so dim.

The picture’s affirmative philosophy (“You gotta earn your mark by doing something big, for something bigger than yourself”) is treacly but inoffensive, and of course is designed to emphasise that courage isn’t about great deeds but a laudable attitude. Fearful Arlo isn’t divested of fear (as Sam Elliot’s dad T-Rex, envisaged as a rancher, says of a great feat, “Who says I wasn’t scared? But you can get through it”) but learns to manage it, and his journey fosters an attitude of acceptance and openness; the pest “critter’ that so alarmed him becomes his best and most devoted friend. But still, all things in their place, it seems; despite being presented as effective canines, Spot’s rightful place is with a surrogate family of his own kind (a la The Jungle Book; the 1967 one, that is).

Despite the clumsy character design, Sohn and his team conjure some arresting images and sequences. You’d expect nothing less of Pixar. There’s cattle rustling with velociraptors, and in a striking inversion of Jaws, pterodactyls’ (think Jungle Book’s vultures, but more threatening) wings protrude from beneath the clouds. There also some oddly squeamish moments; Spot bites the head of an enormous bug (the sort of thing that would look at home in Starship Troopers or The Mist), and he and Arlo engage in a brief acid trip after consuming fermented berries.

Elsewhere, there are homespun platitudes courtesy of Arlo’s ghost dad, and the value of family is expectedly foregrounded, but Arlo’s pronouncement “I love him” of his pet human doesn’t feel earned, probably because the characters never take root as ones you care for or appreciate. The score, from Mychael and Jeff Danna, does its best to wear you down, however, the kind of insipid, inspirational mush that would make Randy Newman proud.

This may have been the least successful Pixar film, but it’s still preferable to Lasseter’s much cherished Cars franchise (no danger of being consigned to the pits, despite being the pits, there, as they’re his babies and he has final say; I expect fellow staffers whisper words of comfort to Peterson to that effect whenever Lasseter’s out of earshot). As a basic narrative, their sixteenth is dependable if unexacting, so it at least engages on that level. In terms of character, though, it missteps fatally. As for the short film, I’m not quite sure how Sanjay’s Super Team was nominated for Best Animated Short Oscar, as aside from some distinctive design work, it’s paper thin. Which makes it a suitable accompaniment to The Good Dinosaur.

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

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She writes Twilight fan fiction.

Vampire Academy (2014)
My willingness to give writer Daniel Waters some slack on the grounds of early glories sometimes pays off (Sex and Death 101) and sometimes, as with this messy and indistinct Young Adult adaptation, it doesn’t. If Vampire Academy plods along as a less than innovative smart-mouthed Buffy rip-off that might be because, if you added vampires to Heathers, you would probably get something not so far from the world of Joss Whedon. Unfortunately inspiration is a low ebb throughout, not helped any by tepid direction from Daniel’s sometimes-reliable brother Mark and a couple of hopelessly plankish leads who do their best to dampen down any wit that occasionally attempts to surface.

I can only presume there’s a never-ending pile of Young Adult fiction poised for big screen failure, all of it comprising multi-novel storylines just begging for a moment in the Sun. Every time an adaptation crashes and burns (and the odds are that they will) another one rises, hydra-like, hoping…

You’re never the same man twice.

The Man Who Haunted Himself (1970)
(SPOILERS) Roger Moore playing dual roles? It sounds like an unintentionally amusing prospect for audiences accustomed to the actor’s “Raise an eyebrow” method of acting. Consequently, this post-Saint pre-Bond role (in which he does offer some notable eyebrow acting) is more of a curiosity for the quality of Sir Rog’s performance than the out-there premise that can’t quite sustain the picture’s running time. It is telling that the same story was adapted for an episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents 15 years earlier, since the uncanny idea at its core feels like a much better fit for a trim 50 minute anthology series.

Basil Dearden directs, and co-adapted the screenplay from Anthony Armstrong’s novel The Strange Case of Mr Pelham. Dearden started out with Ealing, helming several Will Hay pictures and a segment of Dead of Night (one might imagine a shortened version of this tale ending up there, or in any of the portmanteau horrors that arrived in the year…

‘Cos I’m the gringo who always delivers.

American Made (2017)
(SPOILERS) This is definitely more the sort of thing Tom Cruise should be doing, a movie that relies both on his boyish™ charm and at least has pretensions of ever so slightly pushing the envelope of standard multiplex fare, rather than desperately attaching himself to an impersonal franchise (The Mummy) or flailingly attempting to kick start one (Jack Reacher: Never Go Back); remember when Cruise wouldn’t even go near sequels (for about 20 years, The Color of Money aside, and then only the one series)? American Made is still victim to the tendency of his movies to feel superstar-fitted rather than remaining as punchy as they might be on paper (Made’s never quite as satirically sharp as it wants to be), but it at least doesn’t lead its audience by the nose.

Rejoice! The broken are the more evolved. Rejoice.

Split (2016)
(SPOILERS) M Night Shyamalan went from the toast of twist-based filmmaking to a one-trick pony to the object of abject ridicule in the space of only a couple of pictures: quite a feat. Along the way, I’ve managed to miss several of his pictures, including his last, The Visit, regarded as something of a re-locating of his footing in the low budget horror arena. Split continues that genre readjustment, another Blumhouse production, one that also manages to bridge the gap with the fare that made him famous. But it’s a thematically uneasy film, marrying shlock and serious subject matter in ways that don’t always quite gel.

Shyamalan has seized on a horror staple – nubile teenage girls in peril, prey to a psychotic antagonist – and, no doubt with the best intentions, attempted to warp it. But, in so doing, he has dragged in themes and threads from other, more meritable fare, with the consequence that, in the end, the conflicting positions rather subvert his attempts at subversion…

Two hundred thousand pounds, for this outstanding example of British pulchritude and learning.

The Avengers 4.18: The Girl From Auntie
I’ve mentioned that a few of these episodes have changed in my appreciation since I last watched the series, and The Girl from Auntie constitutes a very pronounced uptick. Indeed, I don’t know how I failed to rate highly the estimable Liz Fraser filling in for Diana Rigg – mostly absent, on holiday –for the proceedings (taking a not dissimilar amateur impostor-cum-sidekick role to Fenella Fielding in the earlier The Charmers). I could watch Fraser all day, and it’s only a shame this was her single appearance in the show.

By Jove, the natives are restless tonight.

The Avengers 4.17: Small Game for Big Hunters
I wonder if Death at Bargain Prices’ camping scene, suggestive of an exotic clime but based in a department store, was an inspiration for Small Game For Big Hunters’ more protracted excursion to the African country of Kalaya… in Hertfordshire. Gerry O’Hara, in his second of two episodes for the show again delivers on the atmosphere, making the most of Philip Levene’s teleplay.

Romulan ale should be illegal.

Star Trek: Nemesis (2002)
(SPOILERS) Out of the ST:NG movies, Star Trek: Nemesis seems to provoke the most outrage among fans, the reasons mostly appearing to boil down to continuity and character work. In the case of the former, while I can appreciate the beef, I’m not enough of an aficionado to get too worked up. In the case of the latter, well, the less of the strained inter-relationships between this bunch that make it to the screen, the better (director Stuart Baird reportedly cut more than fifty minutes from the picture, most of it relating to underscoring the crew, leading to a quip by Stewart that while an Actor’s Cut would include the excised footage, a Director’s one would probably be even shorter). Even being largely unswayed by such concerns, though, Nemesis isn’t very good. It wants to hit the same kind of dramatic high notes as The Wrath of Khan (naturally, it’s always bloody Khan) but repeatedly drifts into an out-of-tune dirge.

I think we’ve returned to Eden. Surely this is how the World once was in the beginning of time.

1492: Conquest of Paradise (1992)
Ridley Scott’s first historical epic (The Duellists was his first historical, and his first feature, but hardly an epic) is also one of his least remembered films. It bombed at the box office (as did the year’s other attempted cash-ins on the discovery of America, including Superman: The Movie producers the Salkinds’ Christopher Columbus: The Discovery) and met with a less than rapturous response from critics. Such shunning is undeserved, as 1492: Conquest of Paradise is a richer and more thought-provoking experience than both the avowedly lowbrow Gladiator and the re-evaluated-but-still-so-so director’s cut of Kingdom of Heaven. It may stand guilty of presenting an overly sympathetic portrait of Columbus, but it isn’t shy about pressing a critical stance on his legacy.

Sanchez: The truth is, that he now presides over a state of chaos, of degradation, and of madness. From the beginning, Columbus proved himself completely incapable of ruling these islands…

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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