The Greatest Trick

As I left the cinema having watched Coraline, I overheard two children excitedly discussing the film, saying how much they loved it, whilst their parents were having an equally avid discussion about how terrifying it was. If ever there was a film that was unsuitable for parents but suitable for children, this is it. In the same way the Grimm fairytales (Red Riding Hood, Hansel and Gretel et al) make perfect sense to children but horrify adults, Coraline follows a great cinematic tradition of dark children’s films that ruthlessly terrorise their young target audience.

Based on Neil Gaiman’s excellent (and equally terrifying) novel, the plot concerns young Coraline, an imaginative, resourceful girl who moves with her parents to a grim, dingy house where she is lonely and bored. After exploring the house she finds a doorway that leads to a parallel, idealised version of her world with an exact replica of the house and everyone she knows, including her “other mother”. However, there is one critical difference: they all have buttons for eyes. Coraline is slowly seduced by this alternative world where everything seems wonderful, until a talking cat warns her that everything is not as it seems.

The very best children’s stories do not patronise, and there is nothing patronising or unduly sentimental about Coraline. Although there are echoes of Alice in Wonderland and one or two other previous books, it is a starkly original work that can be read on a number of levels. Firstly and most obviously, it is a fable intended to encourage children to appreciate their parents, even if they often ignore them. On a second, more subversive level, it can be seen as a gentle satire of the idealised, 1950’s style gender roles fulfilled by Coraline’s parents in the parallel world. In the real world, Coraline’s parents both work and her father does the cooking, which is always disgusting. In the parallel world, Coraline’s father works hard whilst her mother stays at home cooking delicious food. It is interesting that this fantasy world is used to seduce Coraline, who clearly longs for a mother who is there for her. Yet this world is ultimately shown to be dangerous and evil. It is almost as though the filmmakers are sending a message to children that to want a mother at home in a post feminist society where most of the time both parents work out of financial necessity is as unrealistic and fantastic as the bizarre parallel world Coraline discovers.

Regardless of how one feels about such a message, it cannot be denied that Coraline is a work of visionary genius. The vocal talents, including Dakota Fanning, Teri Hatcher, Jennifer Saunders, Dawn French and Ian McShane, all contribute excellent performances. Director Henry Selick (who made The Nightmare Before Christmas) uses stop motion techniques to brilliant effect, and generates an extraordinary level of detail that can only be appreciated in the cinema (where it can also be seen in 3D). The screenplay expands upon Gaiman’s original in a number of interesting ways that are too good to spoil in this review, and there is a dazzling array of frightening, hilarious and often surreal moments (especially a running gag involving dogs). But it isn’t just outstanding in the big set pieces. It’s equally good in the smaller, quieter moments. For instance in one poignant scene late in the film where Coraline has escaped back to the real world to find her parents have been kidnapped by the “other mother”, a frightened, upset Coraline makes bizarre mannequins of her parents and goes to sleep between them – a simple and heartbreaking image that at the same time makes no concessions to sentimentality.

I do have one small caveat on the spiritual side of things. There is a scene where Coraline has tea leaves read, but the scene is brief and it is apparent that the character reading the leaves is perhaps a fraud. It is almost akin to the fortune reading scene in The Wizard of Oz (where the man is a fraud), although the image of the spidery hand that the tea leaves form along with the predictable pronouncement that she is in great danger does neatly foreshadow something in the finale.

To summarise, this is essentially a superb horror film for kids, and as such comes with my highest recommendation for all but very young children. Brave parents who can overcome their nervousness may wish to go too, although they might need to hide their eyes at times.

Simon Dillon, May 2009.

Those who think the original version of The Blob (starring “Steven” McQueen with its hilarious title song “Beware of the Blob”) is a neglected classic are in for a treat with Monsters vs Aliens. It takes a love of 1950s sci-fi B-movie lore to fully appreciate its cast of colourful and bizarre characters. Each one is a nod to said 50s B-movies, including blue brainless blob B.O.B. (The Blob), a mad scientist fused with a cockroach appropriately called Dr Cockroach (The Fly), an aquatic reptilian monster called The Missing Link (The Creature from the Black Lagoon), a vast half dinosaur half insect called Insectosaurus (presumably a homage to monsters like Mothra in the Godzilla films) and finally Ginormica, a forty nine foot twelve inch woman (Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman). Incidentally her height is apparently thus because of copyright issues with fifty foot women.

Ginormica is the latest addition to a secret government facility where these monsters are housed by General WR Monger to hide them from the outside world. In her former life Ginormica was called Susan, until on her wedding day a meteor containing strange energy crashed next to her causing her to mutate into a giant at the altar. Understandably Susan is rather miffed at all this, and wants to return to her normal size so she can get back to her drippy, selfish fiancé Derek. She gets the chance to do so when the government call on her and the other monsters to repel an alien invasion by the amusingly egotistical four-eyed Gallaxhar.

Directors Rob Letterman and Conrad Vernon ensure the animation is almost up to Pixar standards, and the vocal cast – including Reese Witherspoon, Seth Rogan, Hugh Laurie, and Kiefer Sutherland – all contribute highly amusing performances. Stephen Colbert’s hilariously inept President Hathaway is also worthy of a special mention since he steals every scene he is in. From the hilarious first contact with the aliens (when the famous Close Encounters five tones don’t work, Hathaway launches into Harold Faltermeyer’s Axel F), to the Dr Strangelove inspired war room scene where the huge red button launching all nuclear warheads is directly next to an identical huge red button that makes him a cup of coffee, Colbert’s inspired lunacy ensures the adults are laughing as much as the children.

The flaw amid the fun – and its quite a serious one – is the plot. Although there are some suitably hilarious and deranged set pieces (particularly one involving a giant robot on the Golden Gate Bridge), the script is predictable and fails to grip the way a Pixar feature does. Its messages about discovering who you really are, doing things for yourself, female empowerment, friendship and so forth are not as poignantly explored as they could have been in more skilled (Pixar) hands.

That said, Monsters vs Aliens is still a fun and entertaining slice of nonsense for all the family, and well worth a look.

Simon Dillon, April 2009.

Families on the lookout for a half term cinematic diversion can do a lot worse than Bolt, the latest animated feature from Disney.

The eponymous Bolt has been raised to believe the action packed television programme he stars in is real, and that he really has superpowers. His teenage owner Penny is reluctantly complicit in this Truman Show-esque hoax, but every time she gets a twinge of conscience her agent persuades her (and her mother) that it’s for the best, since the programme makers are getting a level of De Niro-esque canine acting that has never been seen before.

However, when a series of unexpected circumstances leaves Bolt stranded in New York City, he is forced to face up to the truth as well as the big wide world. Determined to return west to Penny, he joins up with cynical feline Mittens, and a somewhat deranged hamster called Rhino, who is obsessed with Bolt’s TV series.

This is essentially The Incredible Journey with a post-modern hi-tech twist. But directors Byron Howard and Chris Williams pack the film with fun chases, big laughs (especially from Rhino who steals every scene he is in, and a kryptonite type gag involving styrofoam), and a few poignant moments. It’s as predictable as its worthy but familiar messages about friendship and believing in oneself, but still manages to give the audience what it wants in ways it doesn’t always expect.

The animation is almost as detailed and convincing as a Pixar film, though not as visually unique or stylish. Vocal talents from the likes of John Travolta, Miley Cyrus and Malcolm McDowell are put to good use, and though this isn’t destined for classic status, it’s a fun romp for all the family that will fill the gap nicely until Pixar’s next offering Up, due later this year.

Simon Dillon, February 2009.

Waltz with Bashir was on my to-see list late last year, but it only recently arrived at my local arts cinema, hence the lateness of this review. Anyway, it’s an extraordinarily bold, shocking and visually stunning animated documentary and further evidence that animation is not always for children. Rather amusingly, Ratatouille/The Incredibles director Brad Bird once threatened to punch the next person he met who referred to animation as a genre. It is merely a technique, and one that is employed here to phenomenally innovative effect.

Based on a true story, the film is about writer/director Ariel Forman, who fought in the Israeli/Lebanon war of 1982, but has no memory of it. Throughout the story he attempts to piece together fragments of his repressed memories by interviewing those who fought alongside him, and gradually it becomes clear that he was present at a terrible massacre which so traumatised him that he was unable to remember it.

The extraordinary animation is used to riveting, brilliant effect. Whether depicting a rain swept Tel Aviv, hallucinatory visions and dreams, fierce battles, or the stunning opening where a pack of snarling dogs charge towards the camera, it really is impossible to find a film to compare this to. On a purely visual level alone, Waltz with Bashir is a mesmerising triumph with a level of detail that really needs to be seen on a big screen to be appreciated.

It’s worth making clear that Waltz with Bashir is not a political film. There have been some misguided attempts to nail it down as both pro and anti Israeli when it is neither. This is not an attempt to whitewash the Israeli Defence Force, nor condemn them outright. Critics have said Ariel Forman failed to contextualise the Israeli/Lebanon war by explaining its origins, and as someone sympathetic to Israel who gets continually frustrated with the general level of ignorance about these events, I can understand – to a degree – this point of view. Waltz with Bashir does not detail the years of violent attacks against Christians by the PLO (they had migrated to Lebanon after King Hussein kicked them out of Jordan in the early 70s), nor does it speak of the thousands of Lebanese Christians who were forced to flee as a result of that and Syria’s involvement.

However, with this context or not, such events do not in any way justify the appalling war crimes perpetuated by the Christian Phalangist militia who killed around 800 civilians or more at Palestinian camps. It is right and proper, in my opinion, both to bring these events to light, and (in the case of the IDF) to demonstrate that standing by and allowing such atrocities is a great sin of omission. An interesting historical footnote is that Arik Sharon, who in the film is shown to have had the power to intervene and stop the atrocities, was eventually found personally responsible for not stopping it by an Israeli commission investigating the massacre.

However, as previously stated, this film is not about politics or borders but morality. Yes, it’s about the appalling damage war inflicts on those who fight in them, psychologically as well as physically, but it is even more than that. It is, above all, a profound meditation on personal responsibility and a clear demonstration that regardless of the rights or wrongs of a military cause, murder is always murder. To call oneself Christian, then shoot unarmed women and children and carve bloody crosses on their chests, is about as far from true Christianity as it is possible to get.

This astonishing animated documentary is a genuinely unique piece of cinema that offers no easy answers and really forces its audience to think. There never has been, nor, I suspect, will there ever be a film quite like it. It is therefore a great shame to have to report that in spite of the undeniable technical and artistic brilliance, there is one moment that really ought to give Christians pause as to whether or not they see this. In said sequence, an Israeli commander is watching a pornographic film which although animated and played for laughs, is nevertheless unjustified, gratuitous and leaves nothing to the imagination. There is nudity elsewhere in the film, but in a non-sexual context and unlike the afore-mentioned scene it did not seem gratuitous. Obviously there is also violence, much of it shocking, but in this post Saving Private Ryan era, the level of blood and gore actually seemed comparatively restrained.

In final analysis, on a purely artistic level, this is an absolutely outstanding achievement. However, in light of the scene mentioned above, most if not all Christian audiences really ought to avoid this, or at least exercise extreme caution if viewing. This is a great shame, as it spoils an otherwise extraordinary film.

Reviewing Pixar films is getting increasingly predictable. Every feature they make seems to stretch their creative, storytelling and technical abilities to breaking point, yet they always manage to pull it off. So when I say Wall-E is their most technically accomplished and probably most brilliant film to date, it sounds completely redundant. But even by Pixar’s ludicrously high standards director Andrew Stanton (who made Finding Nemo) has crafted an instant masterpiece that stands tall and proud among the very greatest of family films.

In the year 2110, mankind abandoned the Earth because it was covered with rubbish and uninhabitable. Left behind were several thousand robots, Wall-E units, assigned to clear up. 700 years later, they have all long since broken down except one who has developed something of an eccentric personality. He has a little home filled with curious objects he has discovered (light bulbs, whisks, and so forth), and a penchant for the not exactly classic Barbra Streisand musical Hello Dolly, which he watches endlessly on an old VHS tape. His only companion is a cockroach who he has trained as a pet. But Wall-E is desperately lonely.

His mundane garbage clearing routine is suddenly disrupted by the arrival of Eve, a sleek female robot who has been sent to Earth by surviving humans to see whether plant life is growing there again. In the process she meets Wall-E and although at first she tries to blast him into atoms, the two eventually make friends and begin to fall in love.

I know the plot sounds preposterous, but Pixar have made a career out of taking inanimate objects such as toys and cars, bringing them to life and investing them with a depth of humanity often greater than those of actual human performances! Wall-E has this in spades, and the developing relationship between him and Eve is so full of humour, warmth, melancholy and excitement that suspension of disbelief is effortlessly achieved.

The first half of Wall-E has been hailed as an audacious experiment in that it contains no dialogue. The plot is told visually through bleeped robotic responses and movements (especially in the eyes) that convey the necessary emotions, but then cinema is a visual medium and this ought to be the ideal. As screenwriting guru Robert McKee says, “Image is the first choice. Dialogue is the regrettable second choice”. Before Wall-E was released, some were initially unsure children would go for such a return to what is essentially silent cinema, but I recall as a child massively enjoying silent classics such as Buster Keaton’s The General and Charlie Chaplin’s The Gold Rush. Besides, there are hugely effective dialogue free sequences in many classic family films (the brilliant opening of ET for instance). In addition, the convention of many cartoons (such as Tom and Jerry) is to have as little dialogue as possible, and therefore I am sure children should be more than ready for the not-as-audacious-as-it-sounds, first half.

In the second half, Eve is taken by a spacecraft and Wall-E tries to rescue her. This leads to an amazing journey through space to the gigantic starship Axiom, where the surviving humans reside. To say anymore at this stage would spoil the fun suffice to say the plot unfolds simply and beautifully.

Here I must insert the obligatory paragraph about Pixar’s magnificent visuals, and there are images here that will stay with you for the rest of your life. The bleak, dystopian visions of an abandoned, rubbish-covered Earth are vast, epic, and astonishingly lonely. The level of detail in the rusted buildings, deserted roads, dust storms and smog once again fuels my suspicions that those who work for Pixar have some kind of artistic obsessive compulsive disorder that drives them to improve on perfection. In the second half of the film, the look changes with a journey through space so achingly beautiful it almost brings a tear to the eye. Once aboard the Axiom, the polished sheen of the spacecraft interiors are so phenomenally detailed that I am forced to conclude that if Michelangelo was alive today, he’d be working for Pixar. Such artistic craftsmanship simply has to be seen on a big screen to be properly appreciated.

Wall-E is also an extraordinary auditory experience. Much of the credit must go to Ben Burtt, the man behind some of the greatest sound effects in cinema history (R2 D2, lightsabres, Jurassic Park dinosaurs, etc). It is appropriate that here Burtt uses samples of his own voice amid his orchestra of bleeps, whistles and other sounds that bring the character of Wall-E to life.

Even though Wall-E owes and acknowledges a debt to science fiction classics such as Silent Running and 2001: A Space Odyssey (there’s even a HAL-like villain), at heart it’s more akin to optimistic modern fantasy tales like Star Wars or ET. Yet it still seems miraculously fresh and original – a potential science fiction classic in its own right, and one that leaves the viewer on a dizzying high.

What raises this above the level of merely an absolutely first-rate entertainment is the timely but non-preachy warning about the dangers of greed and environmental mismanagement. It is also an interesting examination of what could happen to the human race should it ever become overly dependant on automation. Sequences where the now obese, brainwashed humans aboard the Axiom rediscover one another, (as opposed to images of one another on video screens) and learn about things they have long since forgotten centuries ago (such as agriculture) as a result of Wall-E’s antics underscore this point. In addition, Wall-E is a surprisingly profound study of loneliness and longing, and even has a Biblical worldview (without mentioning Jesus or God) in that it depicts its central character as being someone who is prepared to heroically lay down his life for his friends.

One lovely, lovely sequence where Wall-E and Eve dance through space using a fire extinguisher to propel them, will go down in cinema history as one of the greatest visualisations of pure joy ever seen on the big screen (and please, I beg you, see it on a big screen). For this scene alone, I suspect that in years to come, Wall-E will join the elite ranks alongside The Wizard of Oz, The Railway Children, The Jungle Book, Mary Poppins and ET as one of the greatest family films ever made.

Simon Dillon, July 2008.

Kung Fu Panda is one of those films that has everything you need to know about it in the title. This slight but diverting animated tale of a fat Panda called Po who dreams of being a Kung Fu legend should entertain most children, whilst providing some amusing send-ups of classic Kung Fu movies for the adults.

The plot concerns Po, whose dream to join Kung Fu fighters Crane, Tigress, Monkey, Mantis and Viper, whom he idolises, suddenly comes true when it is revealed he is destined to become the “Dragon Fighter”, the one who will free their valley of the evil Tai Lung (a particularly vicious leopard). Along the way, audiences are subjected to the predictable but worthwhile message about being yourself.

There are some fairly good laughs to be had here, especially Po’s fanboyish behaviour as he meets his heroes. There is plenty of inspired slapstick too, in sequences ranging from a thrillingly ludicrous prison breakout, a fight on a rope bridge, a hugely amusing training montage involving chopsticks, and an action packed final duel.

The animation is rich and detailed, though not quite up to Pixar’s impossibly high standards. Various big name vocal talents all contribute amusing performances, including Angelina Jolie, Dustin Hoffman, Lucy Liu, Seth Rogan, Ian McShane, Jackie Chan, and of course Jack Black. The screenplay is engaging, and directors Mark Osborne and John Stevenson make good use of the widescreen format.

In short, this is nothing particularly remarkable or particularly bad, and as such, there’s not a lot to write about.

Simon Dillon, July 2008.

Nominated for best animated film at last years Oscars, French/Iranian Persepolis has been dubbed into English for its UK release. Ordinarily dubbing is something I detest, but since all animation is dubbed anyway, here it works well. At any rate, Persepolis is such a unique and vivid experience that any concerns one might have had at hearing the likes of Sean Penn or Catherine Deneuve impersonating Middle Eastern accents quickly evaporate (the whole cast do fine, incidentally).

The fascinating and poignant true story of Marjane Satrapi is told with stark simplicity by directors Vincent Paronnaud and Satrapi herself. It begins in 1970’s Iran, just before the fall of the Shah. “Marji” is a ten year old girl who idealistically dreams of revolution, and longs to be renowned as a prophet. But as she grows up, she witnesses first hand the worse tyranny of the Islamic fundamentalists who take over after the revolution. Eventually her parents send her to Europe in search of a better life, but Marji finds life there equally difficult as she encounters abrasive characters and men who break her heart. However, when she finally returns to Iran, she finds her homeland has changed beyond all recognition, and is unable to decide where she truly belongs.

Rendered almost entirely in bleak monochrome, Persepolis is yet more compelling evidence that animation is not solely for children. There are images here that will stay with the viewer forever – from the riot police in gas masks attempting to suppress revolutionary crowds to the snakelike burka clad religious fanatics who chastise Marji for wearing punk rock garb. Most memorable of all are the nightmarish war sequences that somehow manage to convey the horrors of the Iran/Iraq conflict more chillingly than any contemporary film I can think of, despite their brevity and lack of blood and gore. The alternative scene in Europe during the 1980s is also effectively depicted, particularly the foolish, self-appointed revolutionaries who actually do nothing but talk pretentious nonsense. More amusingly, when Marji goes through puberty, there is a very funny sequence which perfectly sums up how awkward this can be.

The undeniably dark events depicted throughout are seasoned by Marji’s perpetual good humour and immense likeability. Although she has a strong sense of right and wrong, she also has a cruel streak. One incident of childhood bullying, and another incident in later life where she maliciously gets an innocent man in trouble with the religious authorities, adds believability to her confused state of mind. She is far from perfect, but the “warts-and-all” approach makes her a genuinely fascinating character.

The relationship between Marji and her grandmother is central to the film, and as such provides some positive moral content. For example, Marji is told that bitterness and revenge is the worst possible path for a human to take. There is also valid political anger seething beneath the surface of the story – for example, in its depiction of the senseless Iran/Iraq war, and specifically a scathing condemnation of the West’s decision to supply arms to both sides. Best of all, the film unambiguously denounces religious legalism and oppression in the best possible way – through humour. One sequence where Marji purchases heavy metal music from furtive men who behave like drug dealers is absolutely hilarious.

Unfortunately, God, who appears to Marji in dreams, is depicted as a powerless irrelevancy that stands by unable to intervene in human affairs. As a result, humanistic thinking often is seen as the common sense answer to Marji’s problems. For example, when she is depressed at her failing marriage, her grandmother says not to worry because her first marriage is just practise for the second which will be much better.

Make no mistake, this is a remarkable film; an extraordinary work of art that pushes the boundaries of animation. It is essential viewing for anyone with a serious interest in cinema, and given the humour, drama and sadness contained herein, it is difficult to imagine any sensible person coming away unaffected. However, it is also a shame that Persepolis advocates secular humanism as a default answer to the world’s religious and political problems, and as such, from a spiritual perspective I must add that caveat of caution.

Simon Dillon, May 2008.

The end credits of Ratatouille proudly announce that “no motion capture or other short cuts were used in the making of this film. 100 per cent guaranteed real animation.” One can entirely understand why those involved in the production would want to announce this. Mere superlatives have long since been inadequate when describing the insanely high standard of Pixar’s animation, and Ratatouille’s technical merits are so astounding that one wonders if they are somehow cheating.

In fact, Ratatouille is such an unmitigated joy from start to finish that it would take a psychic to spot anything that indicated its troubled production history. Pixar were worried about how the film was shaping up, so Brad Bird was called upon to lick it into shape. Bird (who directed my favourite Pixar film The Incredibles, and my favourite animated film of all time The Iron Giant) is so revered in the animation world that the studio clearly hoped that the harnessing of his phenomenal skills could result in the alchemy that sometimes turns lead into gold. In this case, their hopes were not in vain.

Remy is a young rat living in the French countryside who dreams of being a gourmet chef. His father and brother do not understand his curious ambition, and discourage it. But when the rat colony is forced to suddenly flee, Remy is left alone in the centre of Paris next to the restaurant founded by his now-deceased cooking idol. After sneaking into the restaurant to get a closer look at gourmet cooking, a series of bizarre and hilarious events ensue, the upshot of which is that Remy makes an unusual alliance with the restaurant’s new garbage boy Linguini, who wants to cook but can’t. Remy, who it transpires is a naturally gifted chef, agrees to help him by pulling on his hair and operating him like a puppet to help fulfil his ambition. The witty screenplay explores this absurd idea to superb effect, and somehow manages to not only make it work but make it brilliant.

As I’ve already mentioned, the mind-boggling attention to detail is reason alone to make this a must-see. From autumnal French countryside to dark gurgling sewers and beautiful Paris cityscapes, every detail is so visually astounding that one cannot help wondering if the Pixar animators suffer from some kind of obsessive compulsive disorder in their continual determination to excel themselves.

On top of this, the vocal talents are excellent – Patton Oswalt, Ian Holm, Brian Dennehy, Lou Romano, Brad Garrett, and Janeane Garofalo are all outstanding in their various roles. But by far the most interesting character in Ratatouille is cynical acid-penned restaurant critic Anton Ego, superbly voiced by Peter O’Toole. One scene involving his character is a profound, disarming, and surprisingly moving exploration of how taste can be inextricably entwined with a specific time and place, causing those eating to relive past experiences and recall long lost innocence. As an aside, I couldn’t help wondering if Ego was created in response to the critical reception received by the previous Pixar film, Cars. Personally, I thought Cars was superb, but like Anton Ego, many critics inexplicably knocked off a star or two (so to speak) in their reviews. However, I can almost guarantee that star will be back for Ratatouille.

The film doesn’t just have things to say about food and critics. Familiar but worthy messages about being true to oneself, friendship, loyalty, ambition, the price of fame and prejudice are explored in pleasingly subtle fashion. One understated but hugely effective scene has Remy’s father showing him a shop window filled with rat poison and traps in an effort to dissuade him from associating with humans. Remy however refuses to accept life will always be that way, and wants to change things.

If that makes Ratatouille sound heavy, nothing could be further from the truth. It’s light as a feather, frequently hilarious, and contains several superbly exciting set pieces reminiscent of Chuck Jones or Tex Avery cartoons. Remy dodges coming to a nasty end many times inside the restaurant and the film ingeniously shows what potential death traps kitchens are for rats. Chases also spill out onto the Parisian streets and even into the Seine (in one particularly hysterical subplot involving a jealous chef who is determined to catch Remy). One scene where the rats come together at the end to help Remy prepare the eponymous Ratatouille is such a delightful, surreal, whimsical sequence that its narrative implausibility (even allowing for suspension of disbelief) becomes an irrelevance.

To sum up, Ratatouille is easily the best family film of the year, not to mention Pixar’s most technically proficient work yet, and confirms Brad Bird’s emerging reputation as the Steven Spielberg of animation. Please, please go and see it at the cinema, as the beautiful use of widescreen will inevitably suffer on television. It only remains for me to warn parents that your children may well demand pet rats after watching this. As the RSPCA would say, a rat is not just for Christmas.

One final thing: don’t arrive late and miss Lifted, the sublime cartoon before the main feature. It’s the funniest Pixar short film to date.

Simon Dillon, October 2007.

After March of the Penguins and Happy Feet, do we really need another penguin film? In the case of Surf’s Up, perhaps we do. It’s no masterpiece, but it certainly satisfies any animation cravings one might feel whilst waiting for Pixar’s reportedly superb Ratatouille.

Making witty use of the “mockumentary” format, Surf’s Up claims that penguins invented surfing. A documentary crew follows Cody Maverick (voiced by Transformers star Shia LeBeouf), a teenage penguin who dreams of winning a surfing tournament in the tropics. Once there, he meets cute penguin lifeguard, Lani Aliikai (Zooey Deschanel, recently seen in Bridge to Terebithia), hilariously insensitive surfing agent Reggie Belafonte (James Woods) and a surfing chicken (voiced by Jon Heder). Cody’s surfing hero, Big Z (Jeff Bridges in chilled dude Big Lebowski mode), is presumed dead but turns up a burned-out recluse. He reluctantly agrees to train Cody so he stands a chance against the mean-spirited champion, Tank Evans (Dietrich Bader). In the process of learning to surf, Cody discovers that having friends and enjoying life is more important than winning.

In fact, the moral of the story is almost exactly the same as Cars. It’s obvious, but not preachy and the documentary style gives the film a cynical edge that ensures the sentiment never gets too sickly or preachy. Although directors Ash Brannon and Chris Buck are not out to raise the animation ante, the renderings are more than up to scratch – especially in the flashback sequences where scratches and faded colours have been deliberately added to make the footage look old, and the exciting “surf tunnel” shots, all scored to some well-used pop songs. The cast contribute fine vocal performances, and although the story is predictable, it’s certainly an enjoyable way to spend 85 minutes. The jokes are sophisticated, and this is more likely to appeal to adults than children. Those expecting another Happy Feet will be disappointed (the film even has an amusing dig at that film, laughing off the prospect of singing dancing penguins), but although this flopped at the US box office, there is enough evidence here to suggest cinema’s love affair with penguins has not yet run its course.

Simon Dillon, August 2007.

Near the beginning of The Simpsons Movie, Homer turns to the audience and announces they are all suckers for paying to see something that is on television all the time. Evidently creator Matt Groening has gamely decided to wear a certain amount of cynical bad faith on his sleeve, apparently questioning his own judgement in allowing his monumental television creation a cinematic outing. And he is right to question it.

The Simpsons is unarguably a television animation milestone. At once subversive, satirical, hilariously funny, yet good-natured, and always with family values at their core, the series has gradually become part of the establishment. As such, it lost a lot of its edge in later series, but still manages to be consistently entertaining. Even if one disregards the main cast, there are literally hundreds of smaller characters who all have their own fervent following amongst viewers. The series shows no sign of coming to an end given the seemingly endless story possibilities.

Unfortunately, the film is not in the same class. After a promising start, in which Homer’s usual buffoonery causes an environmental disaster that dooms Springfield, the jokes begin to fall flat. A number of potentially interesting subplots – Lisa falling in love, Bart seeing Ned Flanders as a surrogate father – go nowhere, and many beloved characters do not make an appearance. Obviously, in a programme with this many sub-characters not all were going to get screen time, but I for one wish there had been more scenes with Mr Burns. However, at least Itchy and Scratchy get an amusing opening number involving the moon and several nuclear weapons.

All the usual vocal talents are present and correct (Dan Castellaneta, Julie Kavner, Nancy Cartwright, Yeardley Smith, Harry Shearer, Hank Azaria, et al), plus there are a few amusing cameos, including rock band Green Day and Tom Hanks. The animation is a bit more detailed and cinematic, as one would expect, with director David Silverman revelling in its “2-D” glory. Yet this still feels like an extended average episode, and therefore unsustainable over 90 minutes.

Politically, the film appears to come down on the Al Gore side of the fence with regard to environmental issues, and as such is a little on the preachy side (ironically, during a crowd scene, certain characters rail against preachy environmentalism). Morally, its celebration of family values can hardly be knocked, but it’s been done so much more entertainingly in the television series. The humour is a little ruder than usual, with a couple of gags Groening couldn’t get away with on television, but its still feels tame compared to the cutting-edge humour of the early series.

There is nothing I can say that will put off Simpsons completists from seeing this. However, if you are new to The Simpsons might I suggest checking out some of the brilliant earlier TV episodes instead, such as There’s no disgrace like home, Life in the Fast Lane, Itchy and Scratchy and Marge, And Maggie Makes Three, and my all time favourite story, the brilliant two-part Who shot Mr Burns. These sublime examples are a far better introduction to what some consider the greatest television series of all time than this lacklustre picture.

Simon Dillon, July 2007.