TV Detour #1 - Disney's Animal Kingdom: The First Adventure

Jambo! Today we finish up Animal Adventures week by taking a detour into the world of Disney’s theme parks on television, and tune in for Disney’s Animal Kingdom: The First Adventure.

(Note for this and future reviews of television specials, the copies I watch and screen-cap are from YouTube; a link to the original video is provided in the special’s title, above)

Originally airing on April 26th, 1998, as part of ABC’s The Wonderful World Of Disney, this special highlights the newly-opened theme park, which debuted to the public on Earth Day of that year. It’s hosted by a pre-Price Is Right Drew Carey (frantically reading those cue-cards like a pro,) and features appearances by Jane Seymour, Paul Rodriguez, Sister-Sister’s Tia and Tamara Mowry, Smart Guy’s Tahj Mowry, Boy Meets World’s Will Friedle and Danielle Fishel, and famed primate expert Jane Goodall. The odd mixture of talent on display here personifies the confusing message that Disney continues to send about Animal Kingdom – is it a theme park, a wild animal park, or both? Disney seems forever hesitant to push too far in either direction when it comes to their fourth Florida-based park.

The tree is alive ... with the sound of music...

This dichotomy can be witnessed in the opening of this special, as the cast of the Broadway adaptation of The Lion King gathers around the park’s icon, the massive Tree of Life, to sing a stirring rendition of “The Circle of Life.” During the song’s brief bridge, an insert of Drew Carey, saying how excited he is to be there, is shoved in - complete with a frantic whip-pan past the park’s entrance which doesn’t mesh with the more sedate camera-work in the surrounding musical number. The longer I watched The First Adventure, the more convinced I became that Drew Carey was simply the wrong choice to host. His style of nervous-energy stand-up comedy seemed to clash with the serene image that Disney was pushing for Animal Kingdom. I think James Earl Jones would’ve been the perfect host, but there’s no ABC synergy to be had with that option.

Hey! What do Indians fans use for birth control? Their personalities!

In the following segment, we join Jane Seymour and her family as they ride the Kilimanjaro Safari attraction. I began to wonder if Seymour would’ve been a better choice to host - or at least narrate. Her primary role in this special, though, was playing the mother to her young sons, as they pointed out the various animals on view within the attraction. No doubt this was to show that small children could enjoy the park. Maybe she wouldn’t have been the best choice to host - perhaps I’m just fond of her voiceover work for Kay Jewelers?

A brief note about Kilimanjaro Safari: the attraction originally had a storyline attached to it during early previews, which involved catching elephant-killing poachers. Boy, Disney sure was fond of using poachers as go-to villains in the ‘90s; from A Far Off Place and Mighty Joe Young to this, where a portion of the ride would’ve passed by the (simulated) slaughtered remains of a poor mother elephant. Thankfully, someone came to their senses and ditched this idea prior to the attraction’s public debut.

The man of my dreams has almost faded now ... the one I have created in my mind...

After some more God-awful jokes from Carey, we are then treated to the Mowry siblings having a radical time in Dinoland, USA. Prior to the addition of the garish Chester & Hester’s Dino-Rama, there was little to see in Dinoland besides The Boneyard (a children’s play-area) and Countdown to Extinction (a time-traveling Indiana Jones Adventure clone that was later renamed Dinosaur – I guess "Countdown to Extinction" doesn’t make it clear enough that there are DINOSAURS on the ride.) Therefore little Tahj Mowry spouts off some dinosaur trivia, then runs around with a few kids, pretending to run away from a Tyrannosaurus in fast-motion. Now my ears may be deceiving me, but while Tia and Tamara are passing through the queue for Countdown To Extinction, I swear I heard one of the fake scientists refer to another as “Dr. Mantle.” Wow, a Dead Ringers shout-out in a theme park special!

Which twin wants to try the Mantle Retractor first?

Next is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it preview of It’s Tough To Be A Bug with Paul Rodriguez - and why not? The strange thing about this segment is that the film on which the show is based, Pixar’s A Bug’s Life, is never once mentioned, nor are any characters​ from the film shown. According to Wikipedia, the attraction debuted a full seven months ahead of the film, but it’s still odd that Disney didn’t take the opportunity for additional pre-release cross-promotion.

Don't stare at me, you got them bug-eyes...

This is followed by a clear bit of ad-libbing by Drew Carey, where he comments to a Cast Member (or “employee” in non-Disney talk) that one of their massive turkey leg snacks looks like dinosaur meat. The cast member could care less, and repeats to him that it’s a turkey leg. This awkwardness resurfaces later as Carey is shown riding the Kilimanjaro Safari attraction with a Ghanaian tour guide, who obligingly smiles and nods during his barrage of dumb jokes. The fact that they show the Safari attraction twice in 43 minutes should give you an idea of how few attractions the park opened with.

Grin and bear it...

Following a short performance by a troupe of African dancers (in what may be the most entertaining portion of the show,) the Gorilla Falls Exploration Trail is previewed. It’s also given a glowing recommendation as a suitable primate sanctuary by Jane Goodall. Moments like this, wherein Goodall points out the importance of conservation, are the ones that work best in this special, highlighting what makes Animal Kingdom unique from its Orlando-area brethren. The approval of such an important and respected voice as Goodall really goes a long way to help sell the concept and validity of the park.

Gorilla my dreams...

After this, with time running out, they cram in a segment with Will Friedle and Danielle Fishel on a whirlwind tour of Gorilla Falls, the child-friendly Conservation Station, and long-running bird show Flights of Wonder. That they bothered to preview Flights of Wonder is interesting, as it was the sole attraction representing the Asia section of the park. The deforestation-themed Kali River Rapids and tiger-occupied Maharajah Jungle Trek were still a year away, and E-ticket attraction Expedition Everest wouldn’t bow until 2006. The segment is memorable, however, as we get to see Friedle interact with some beautiful toucans, parrots and cranes.

No condors, unfortunately. Back in the car, Crawford...

The show closes with a performance by Kimberly Scott, singing the song “We Are One” from the yet-to-be-released Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride (so Disney is OK cross-promoting here – then why no Bug’s Life?), bookending the special with a pair of Lion King songs. Just as it does to this day, Animal Kingdom relied heavily on the popularity of The Lion King, with its Simba-centric shows, merchandise and music. After this, the special concludes on a solemn and powerful note, as Jane Goodall speaks to viewers about the wonders and importance of all creatures, great and small – and of humanity’s symbiotic relationship with nature. A perfect, respectful moment to end with.

And then Carey comes back with a half-assed sign off: “Well, I hope y’had as much fun in the Animal Kingdom as I did – g’night.” For fuck's sake...

Oh well. Happy Earth Day, everyone!

The Lion King

Our week of Animal Adventures continues today with a look at one of the behemoths of Disney's animated canon – 1994’s The Lion King.

Simba aims for the elephant section...

Spearheaded by studio chief Jeffrey Katzenberg, worked on for six years by 20 writers(!) and released to near-universal acclaim, The Lion King became the highest-grossing animated film of all time - a record it held until 2003. Beloved by a generation of filmgoers (as well as their offspring,) the film has been popular for over 20 years. It has spawned two direct-to-video sequels, a pair of animated series, a successful Broadway adaptation that’s been running continuously since 1997, as well as several popular parades, shows and productions at each of Disney’s theme parks worldwide (including the fantastic “Festival of The Lion King” at Disney’s Animal Kingdom.) Speak to any Disney fan (especially if they’re a #ChildOfThe90z) and they'll regale you with tales of seeing the movie at the theater - how they were overwhelmed by the majestic power of the “Circle of Life” opening, cried at Mufasa’s demise, or cheered upon Simba’s reclaiming of Pride Rock; how they would spend endless hours replaying the soundtrack on cassette, or the thrill they felt upon popping open that big white clamshell VHS to relive the magic over and over again.

Well, I’m not gonna do that. I’m gonna nitpick all the stupid shit I don’t like about The Lion King.

Whaaa?

Don’t get me wrong – I like the movie very much. It’s such a well-made film, how could I not? I do feel that it’s overrated, however, and that much of its ongoing popularity is driven by nostalgia and its value in the marketplace. Had the film come a few years later it certainly would’ve been appreciated, but not held up as the revered benchmark of animation it is now.

Undoubtedly the best part of the film is its music. The songs by Tim Rice and Elton John are catchy and memorable, and the sequences they accompany stick in one's mind instantly. Though not as well integrated into the story as the songs of Alan Menkin were (or would be,) as pure ear-candy the music is always great to re-visit. The score is an equally sonic treat, with African choirs and powerful rhythms that prove just how good a composer Hans Zimmer was before he disappeared up his own ass (I think that’s where Inception-style BWONGs live.)



I see a bad moon a-risin' ...

Let me address the issue of the vocal performances. Now I’m not going to harp on about the lack of African or African-American actors in the cast, as I feel that a movie about non-anthropomorphized talking animals doesn’t necessarily have an obligation to be culturally aware. Besides, James Earl Jones (Mufasa,) Madge Sinclair (Sarabi,) Robert Guillaume (Rafiki,) Niketa Calame (young Nala) and Whoopi Goldberg (Shenzi) all turn in some of the best performances of the film. The casting of Jonathan Taylor Thomas as the young Simba was definitely an example of mid-‘90s stunt casting, though he did a decent job as far as I’m concerned. Moreover, Nathan Lane and Ernie Sabella, as Timon and Pumbaa, are comic-relief roles, so authenticity or dramatics aren’t required. Rowan Atkinson (Mr. Bean himself) is an odd choice for Zazu the hornbill, although this seems like your typical “we need a stuck-up sounding Brit for a mid-level authority figure” casting more than anything else.

#SimbaPhotoBomb!

But regarding the voices for Simba and Nala as adults, who in their right mind thought that casting Matthew Broderick and Moira Kelly, two of the blandest and most lily-white actors on the planet, was a good idea!? Even accepting that one could conceivably imagine JTT’s voice maturing into that of Broderick’s, how the hell does any offspring of the ultra-baritone Mufasa end up sounding like a milquetoast bookkeeper? Call me biased, as I can count all of Broderick’s performances I like on less than three fingers (and no, Ferris Bueller isn’t one of them,) but was he really the best choice for the role? Really!? It’s not even stunt-casting, since no kid I can recall would’ve leapt out of their seats and ran to the local Cineplex at the thought of an older David Lightman voicing a cartoon lion. And while I think Kelly is a strong actress in the right roles, when her Nala exclaims “What wouldn’t I understand!?” in the most overwrought, whiney voice imaginable, it sends me running for the toilet.



Thanks to Nala, I learned what a "Fuck Me Face" is ... wait, is Nala an anagram!?

Another odd vocal choice is that of Jeremy Irons as the villain Scar. Like many of the other vocal choices, it seems he was hired in a sort of vacuum – right for the fiendish character as written, but with no consideration given to the others cast in the film. Irons’ performance is convincingly calculating, cruel and conniving, but again are we to believe he's related to Mufasa and Simba? Perhaps he and Zazu went to the same boarding school?

Speaking of Scar, his plot to covertly stage a coup by killing Mufasa feels more akin to a rebellion, when one considers that he has an army of hyenas at his beck-and-call. It’s indeed a strange and troubling caste system that operates in the Pride Lands, as the majestic lions lead a monarchy from the lush savannah, and hyenas are cast out to a barren and rocky graveyard without any reliable access to sustenance. The hyenas, as followers of bad guy Scar, are automatically made villains by the film; yet when one realizes just how many hyenas there are (and not just his three cronies that are seen to threaten Simba and Nala,) the whole affair becomes more complicated. Are we supposed to side with a monarchy that has pushed down an entire species in this cartoon form of cultural oppression?



Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help, I'm being repressed!

Yet during the “Be Prepared” number, in which Scar spells out his plan to seize power (necessary to explain how a coup works to the kiddies,) we are slapped in the face with Nazi symbolism – if you can call rows of hyenas goose-stepping past a Scar-topped pulpit “symbolic.” Let’s face it; they’re literally acting out a Nazi rally. So they’re all evil, then? In the wild, hyenas travel in large packs (called clans – not Klans) - so where are the hyena families? The children? Hell, these hyenas could be clone warriors, bred to fight for a power-hungry general, as far as we can deduct from the movie itself.

Subtle.

But Scar doesn’t even utilize this hyena militia to seize power – just his three lackeys. And again, it’s all clandestine anyway, staged to look like an accident in which Scar would legally (so to speak) accept the throne from a dead brother and his (apparently) deceased heir. So if Scar doesn’t need the support of the hyena population to take the throne by force, why allow them access to Pride Rock and all of the riches they’ve been denied thus far? Is Scar actually trying to be progressive, allowing an outcast class to ascend into paradise out of the goodness of his heart? If so, this paints him not as a power-mad despot, but as a radical revolutionary. And yet this is troubling too, since the film then goes on to portray a Pride Land over-run with hyenas that strip the lands bare of all natural resources. So then is The Lion King condemning immigration as parasitic? It would seem so, as the two hyenas with speaking voices, Banzai and Shenzi (Ed just laughs, after all,) are voiced by a Latino and an African-American (Cheech Marin and Goldberg,) against an increasingly White cast of lions.



They're bringing drugs. They're bringing crime. They're rapists.

The Pride Lands are shown to be dried up and desolate after years of hyena habitation, the land stripped of all plant life and water. After Simba returns to vanquish Scar and (presumably) banish the hyenas back to the Hell from whence they came, only then does it begin to rain, returning life to Pride Rock. Far from a lone occurrence, the film is full of this kind of bizarrely psycho-reactive nature. This is actually a literary device called the ‘pathetic fallacy,’ in which human (or in this case, animal) emotions are attributed to aspects of nature. This idea is taken to radical extremes throughout The Lion King; note the wild seismic and volcanic activity during “Be Prepared,” the spotlight-like ray of sunshine that illuminates the presentation of newborn Simba, or the aforementioned death-and-rebirth of the Pride Lands which accompanies Scar’s rise and fall. Since we see the spirit of a deceased Mufasa that is able to make clouds appear in the sky (if we take Simba’s vision at face value,) then perhaps we’re to assume that nature itself is in some way controlled by “the kings of old?” That sure would stink if, say, a nearby village was wiped out by torrential rains because some dead lions were pissed off.


More subtlety.

Though I can’t necessarily fault the filmmakers for utilizing a well-worn literary device to heighten drama, it’s just one of several examples where The Lion King will take an individual element to extremes. In my review for Bambi, I mentioned how that coming-of-age film plays like a gentle character-study, as opposed to The Lion King’s operatic epic. What irks me about this film is not its epic scope or intense drama, but the way that none of it seems to flow naturally. Like an opera, everything is played for over-the-top spectacle, and not in a way that flows seamlessly with the story. At some point during the making of this film, a decision was made to push each individual element of the film “up to 11,” cohesion be damned. “Timon and Pumbaa are wacky sidekicks, so let’s have Nathan Lane act like a used-car salesman and add a bunch of fart jokes!” “’I Just Can’t Wait To Be King’ is a fun musical number, so we’ll have everything turn into a frenetic Technicolor music video!” “Scar is a villain, so let’s get Jeremy Irons and have him be Hitler!” “We want kids to cry when Mufasa dies, so let’s stage his death so that he falls screaming into a giant wildebeest stampede!” “The confrontation between Simba and Scar has to be epic, so let’s make Pride Rock catch on fire and have them duke it out in slow-motion!”

Believe me, I could go on.

It's over, Simba! I have the high ground!

These emotionally-draining sequences and in-your-face gags all seem to be individually screaming for your attention, detracting from the story as a whole. This is a shame, as I feel that the story of The Lion King is strong, and unique in the Disney animated canon. It deserved to be handled with a more delicate hand, rather than studded with one giant set-piece after another. This is, I believe, why many of the critical reviews upon its original release agreed that the film was “very good, but not great,” and did not lavish the same praise upon it as they had previous releases (1991’s Beauty And The Beast being the prime example.) That the film was (and is) so popular is a testament to the hard work and dedication to all involved in its creation, but I’ll never be able to see it as more than a well-made missed opportunity.

Greyfriars Bobby

Let’s now turn our attention to a forgotten little film from 1961, Disney’s bittersweet Greyfriars Bobby.

The film, adapted from Eleanor Atkinson’s 1912 novel (itself coming from local lore,) is set in 19th century Scotland and focuses on the exploits of a little Skye Terrier named Bobby. The dog of an unnamed family of farmers, Bobby nevertheless has chosen to be the loyal companion of an elderly shepherd who goes by the name Auld Jock (played with a believable world-weariness by Alex Mackenzie,) who works for the family seasonally. At the start of the film, Jock attempts to leave Bobby with the young daughter of the family as he and the farmer (played by Gordon Jackson) take their wool to market in Edinburgh. Once they are on their way, we learn that the farmer and Jock have come to an agreement: Jock has become too old and sick for the family to support, and they plan to leave him in Edinburgh. Before long, Bobby escapes the farm and runs the entire 30 miles to the city to be with his adopted master.

Just me an' me terrier, who sits on his derriere ... och!

At first glance, one expects Greyfriars Bobby to be a fairly straight-forward affair; a light-hearted romp about a spunky terrier and his loveable old master. Watching this film soon after Darby O’Gill And The Little People, one can be forgiven for expecting a lesser copy of that movie (and yes, I know the Irish and the Scottish are two completely different people, but bear with me here;) but while Darby O’Gill was a whimsical pastoral, Greyfriars Bobby soon becomes something rather more bleak. Once arriving in Edinburgh, we find that the plan to leave Auld Jock in the city is just that - a plan to leave him to fend for himself. Whether the farmer believes the old shepherd will find refuge someplace is never revealed, though his somewhat caustic manner suggests that he really doesn’t care. Upon reaching Edinburgh, little Bobby discovers the old man in the street, taking refuge near a broken-down cart. Only once the dog joins him does Jock decide to seek shelter indoors.

The pair are briefly taken in by a generous tavern owner, Mr. Traill (the impressively-sideburn’d Laurence Naismith,) but then wander off once it's suggested that Jock should be taken to a sanitarium to see a doctor. Jock and Bobby end up in a rattily decrepit boarding house, run by a nasty old caretaker (Freda Jackson) who looks a bit like the witch from Snow White. After finding some comfort from Bobby’s “sit-up and beg” tricks (and an old Bible the shepherd isn’t able to read,) Jock passes away in the night from untreated pneumonia. He's buried in Greyfriar's Kirkyard, and despite the efforts of the church’s caretaker, Mr. Brown (How Green Was My Valley’s Donald Crisp,) Bobby faithfully returns there every night to sleep atop the old man’s final resting place.

Dog days are over

The movie is set within the lowest strata of Scotland’s social order, in dimly-lit boarding houses and run-down tenements. Far from the sunny Irish village of Darby O’Gill, this film's Edinburgh is under a perpetual state of dampness, inhabited not by smiling country folk, but sneering and uncaring dregs. Even the sympathetic central characters spend much of the time trying not to outwardly display charity or compassion, instead quickly buttoning-up their emotions behind facades of Scottish steel.

Greyfriars Bobby was helmed by Don Chaffey, a prolific and eclectic working-director who before this headed up such films as 1957’s The Flesh Is Weak and 1958’s A Question Of Adultery, and would go on to direct the 1966 Raquel Welch vehicle One Million Years B.C. (as well as two other unusual “child-and-animal” features for Disney: 1964’s The Three Lives Of Thomasina and 1977’s Pete’s Dragon.) Again unlike Darby O’Gill, where one can consistently feel the hand of Walt Disney himself over the whole production, Greyfriars Bobby seems like a film that was passed along to the boys in the studio, left alone to adapt the story without much interference from Uncle Walt. The conspicuous absence of the usual roster of actors, artists and musicians one notes in most of the studio’s films during this era is notable in this regard.

Och! May I have a little kiss before you go?

The majority of the film involves Mr. Traill and Mr. Brown discreetly vying for Bobby’s affections, as the dog befriends both old bachelor Traill and Mr. Brown's wife (played by Kay Walsh) - as well as the impoverished children of the neighborhood. The terrier, however, refuses to sleep anywhere but atop Jock’s grave. The film becomes something of a legal drama by the end, as local authorities threaten to put Bobby down unless someone claims him as his owner and pays a back-log of licensing fees. The two stubborn men both refuse, as Bobby never “rests for the night” anywhere but the churchyard - which isn’t supposed to allow dogs anyway. The tenement children scrape together what little money they can to spare the dog, but luckily the Lord Provost of Edinburgh (a warm Andrew Cruickshank) decrees that Bobby belongs to the city, and is free to roam as he pleases. The film ends with various townsfolk wishing Bobby a good day as he tours the city, and the tenement children calling “goodnight” to him as he rests on Jock’s grave, now grown-over with vibrant green heather.

Attica! Attica! Och!

As I alluded earlier, this is a sweet little film, and one that doesn’t talk down to its audience. The bleakness of the first act isn’t so overwhelming as to become depressing - a distinct possibility given the subject matter. One can’t help but feel a bit of joy watching the terrier brighten the lives of the downtrodden characters as Greyfriars Bobby progresses, mainly because the movie never becomes too cloy or overly-sentimental. It’s a shame that this film probably won’t be seen by many in the future, as it’s not one of Disney’s better-known live-action movies. I’m certainly glad that I was able to enjoy it, and recommend that anyone reading seek it out and give it a try.

Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey

Continuing our travels through the animal kingdom, let’s embark across the treacherous Sierra Nevada Mountains with three brave domesticated animals in 1993’s Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey.



Doggone mountains!

The animals in question are the brash young Chance (an American Bulldog,) the smart-mouthed Sassy (a Himalayan cat,) and wise old Shadow (a Golden Retriever). They are pets of the Burnford children: Jamie (Kevin Chevalia,) Hope (Veronica Lauren) and Peter (Benj Thall.) This film has some of the best “pet performances” I’ve seen, with the dogs and cat hitting every mark perfectly and even getting some emotion across through their expressive eyes and body language. They are further brought to life with the use of voice-overs to interpret their thoughts and communications with one-another: Chance is voiced by Michael J. Fox, Sassy by Sally Field and Shadow by the late Don Ameche.

I don't think that I can take it, 'cause it took so long to bake it...

Fox’s Chance also serves as the de-facto narrator, his thoughts and impressions from an unidentified point in the future adding additional perspective to the journey. Having seen (and heard) Fox in many, many roles over the years (the most memorable, of course, being that of Marty McFly from the Back To The Future trilogy,) but soon his familiar voice melded with the rascally young pup. He also gets many of the best lines, such as his joyful “I’ve died and gone to Kentucky” upon arriving at a farm full of chickens, and his quotable sigh, “I’m too pooped to poop.”

The world's largest scratching post

Field’s Sassy is just as flighty and dismissive as one imagines a cat would be, hopping daintily from uppity detachment to warm adoration when dealing with her canine companions. Her sarcastic “Uhm, sweetheart, Sassy can’t breathe” while being hugged during the sunnily upbeat ending perfectly sums up the feline outlook she provides.

Drama queen

Ameche’s vocal performance for Shadow likewise hits all the right notes for the aged and experienced dog. While his delivery can sometimes dip into melodrama, as when the family leaves the animals with a friend (“Peter … no … stay …”) or when they are reunited at the film’s conclusion, it fits well with what one would expect an old and faithful companion to sound like. His best moments are when he attempts to mentor the impatient Chance while they’re in the wild, his vocal going from soothingly sage, to growling befuddlement, and finally tired resignation.



Meanwhile, at the J. Crew household...

I’m spending a lot of time on the animal performers, for the simple fact that they are far more entertaining and interesting than the humans in the movie. The subplot involving the coming-together of a family with a new father is dull, despite its (somewhat) mirroring of Chance coming to terms with his new family. Robert Hays’ Bob Seaver is a blank cypher, existing mostly to provide a voice of reason to challenge the children’s desperation to locate their wayward pets. Kim Greist, who’s vanished from the face of the Earth since 2002, wanders in and out of the storyline as the mother, Laura, proving my theory that only Terry Gilliam and Michael Mann had any idea how to direct her particular brand of detached acting. The children are not bad, though Peter’s laser-focused obsession with the missing Shadow sometimes borders on Fatal Attraction-style fetishism, as he absent-mindedly sketches pictures of the dog in school, then shrilly attempts to turn the (clearly over-worked) forces of the San Francisco police department to finding him.

I mean, I'm not going to be ignored, Shadow...

Also working against the movie is a later sequence in which the animals, not understanding that they've been rescued, stage a sort of prison break from an Animal Control facility. Sassy's constant references to a portly employee as “lard butt” come off as poor taste; and repeated scenes of the apparently hapless Animal Control officers (who can’t seem to, you know, control animals) tripping over themselves is a much wackier sequence than any found in the rest of the film. Perhaps these scenes were staged like this to grab the attention of any young viewers with ADD? Or maybe to fulfill a low “wackiness quotient” that all Disney films have to meet?

Duh, uh-oh Spaghettios!

Much better are the numerous sequences of the animal trio making their way through the wilderness - running through fields, climbing over trees and clamoring up rocky cliff sides. The sequence in which Sassy falls into a river, and the subsequent attempts to rescue her as she mews helplessly from the rapids, is surprisingly affecting. When she’s eventually reunited with the two dogs, a pleasantly warm feeling washed over me – a feeling which was much more muted during the exuberant reunion of pets and family at the film’s conclusion.



You boys ever hear of a Chinese finger trap?

More so than the 1963 film (and 1961 novel) on which it’s based, Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey makes audiences identify with the adventurous animals much more than with any human character they encounter. The spot-on voice casting, appealing animal actors and well-framed outdoor photography help grown-ups enjoy this film almost as much as kids do. While not the most clever or involving animal movie made (sorry, no gifted pigs here,) there are certainly a lot less pleasant ways to spend 89 minutes.

Mighty Joe Young

In yesterday’s review of 1969’s Rascal, I noted that one can sometimes be pleasantly surprised when going into a new movie with no prior knowledge of it. The pleasure in discovering something to appreciate in a new or obscure film is one of the great joys for movie lovers. Unfortunately, often the opposite reaction occurs, and one finds oneself sitting through an utterly predictable and unmemorable movie awaiting the end credits to roll. In that spirit, I give you 1998’s Mighty Joe Young.

God Meg, you got a lot of beef.  Where do you get all this beef?

A remake of 1949’s already underwhelming attempt at recapturing the success of King Kong, the film stars a youthful Charlize Theron as Jill Young, orphan of a famed gorilla-specialist who was (accidentally) murdered by poachers the same night as the titular gorilla’s mother was shot. The sequence that starts the film, enacting the poachers attack and killing of both a mother gorilla and mother human, is handled extremely delicately. Compared to another evil-poacher film I reviewed recently, A Far Off Place, this attack is definitely one aimed at a more family-friendly audience; both portray poachers as over-the-top villains, but here it’s presented in a far more cartoonish manner. The tone for the rest of the film is set by the laughable dialogue shouted out by the villainous Andrei Strasser (portrayed by Croatian actor Rade Šerbedžija) after little Joe retaliates for his mother’s killing: “Oh! That little demon took off my thumb and trigger finger! Monstrule! Monstrule! ... I will kill this little monkey! I swear I will kill him!”

I don't always kill gorillas, but when I do, I grow a head out of my back.

Upon reading the names of screenwriters Mark Rosenthal and Lawrence Konner appear, I knew I’d seen those names before; sure enough, the pair was responsible for the script of that paragon of bad cinema, 1989’s Superman IV: The Quest for Peace. However, they were also involved in writing 1991’s underrated Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country, and their debut script was 1985’s awesomer-than-you-will-ever-know The Legend Of Billie Jean, so I suppose we could place Mighty Joe Young somewhere in the middle of the team’s rankings. Likewise, director Ron Underwood made a name for himself in the early ‘90s with such crowd-pleasers as Tremors and City Slickers; but after this film he directed the infamous Eddie Murphy vehicle The Adventures Of Pluto Nash. Since then he’s mostly focused on genre television direction.

Just wait until I get that callback for Monster...

Also starring in the film is science-fiction cinema’s favorite panicky co-star, Bill Paxton, as conservationist and love-interest Gregg O’Hara. I was surprised when Paxton ambled on-screen, as I didn’t realize he featured in any Disney films (discounting 1993’s Tombstone, released through their Hollywood Pictures label,) and I couldn’t help but chuckle when he appeared. Then I remembered the actor had just recently (and suddenly) passed away, and felt bad. Any performance by the late actor, I realized, is welcomed. Though I always preferred Paxton as a colorful second-banana to his turns as straight-man lead, there was certainly nothing wrong with his reading here – especially considering the material he had to work with. I have to say, however, that other than the length of his hair, Paxton’s acting in Mighty Joe Young is all but indistinguishable from his role in 1996’s Twister; one need only to replace any dialogue mentioning “tornado” from that film with “gorilla” to have an idea of the performance here.

Upside down - Boy, you turn me
Inside out - And round and round

The real star of the film is the gorilla himself – brought to life by a combination of an actor (John Alexander) in an elaborate monkey suit, green-screen work and digital effects. Though not as sophisticated as other effects in the following decades, Joe is a convincing enough presence to be believed in the context of the film. What’s harder to believe is that in the twelve years following the events in the film’s opening, Theron’s Jill Young was able to keep the giant gorilla a secret from the outside world; especially when Paxton and his team are so easily able to lure him out by making a little noise at the edge of the jungle. Also hard to swallow are many scenes after Joe is transported to a California nature preserve, put into captivity to protect him from poachers. Despite these steps (or, more accurately, because of them - the poachers only discover him after his stateside arrival is covered by the news media) - Joe is visited by goons in Strasser’s employ, and taunted with traumatically memory-inducing noisemakers. Joe goes ape-shit (pun intended,) and begins ripping up trees, water pipes, and anything else he can grab, while the poachers slip away – apparently only there to psyche the monkey out. The zoologists only then appear, of course, and are left to wonder what could’ve happened to upset the gorilla; they must continually rely on Jill’s soothing presence to calm the creature. Are we to believe that this rare and famous 2,000 pound gorilla has been put in an enclosure with no security and no cameras watching him!?!

Joey, Joey, Joey ... you have been a bad monkey!

Anyway, Joe eventually escapes the preserve to wander around the Los Angeles area and cause very minor havoc, covering an awful lot of Southern California territory undetected. Various slack-jawed onlookers watch in awe and surprise as the Mighty Joe eventually thunders his way down Hollywood Boulevard. After jostling a jeep full of valley-girls, one is heard to exclaim “That was so cool!” A young African-American man stares as Joe beats his chest, and exclaims “Whoa … phat!” Joe climbs atop the roof of Grauman's Chinese Theatre (visibly showing Michael Bay’s Armageddon on the marquee, in a shameless plug,) and the gathered crowds love him! While police and SWAT teams make passing attempts to bring him down (there are numerous shots of authorities raising their weapons, and Theron and Paxton running up to scream “Noo!!"), Strasser follows and decides he’d rather shoot Jill than the gorilla – because Evil. After exclaiming “Goodbye, Jill … meet your mother... in Hell!” Strasser is grabbed by a vengeful Joe, who then throws the bloodthirsty poacher through a billboard and into a large power-transformer, killing him. Damn! While this would surely lead to the gorilla being put down right away, Joe is spared to then save a child from a burning Ferris wheel, and all is right with the world.

I can see the Rock 'n' Roller Coaster from up here!

Though the Mighty Joe himself is an impressive achievement and the lead actors (as well as a strong supporting cast, villainous poachers notwithstanding,) are solid, there’s nothing much to recommend here. Inoffensive as the film is, it’s hard to forgive the silly dialogue and tired “White saviors in Africa” theme. Released during the Christmas season of 1998 (when the children could see The Prince of Egypt or A Bug’s Life, and parents could see Shakespeare In Love or The Thin Red Line,) Mighty Joe Young made $50.6 million on a $90 million budget, clearly not connecting with audiences at the time. It’s hard to imagine it doing so at any time in the future, either.

Rascal

Sometimes one can be pleasantly surprised when going into a new movie “cold” – knowing nothing about it beyond what one gleans from a poster or DVD cover. Such was the case for me upon viewing 1969’s Rascal, a film about a young man and his pet raccoon - but not really.

The year is 1917; the aforementioned youth is Sterling North, a young teenager played by Bill Mumy (known for his role as Will Robinson on TV’s Lost In Space) and the aforementioned Rascal is a raccoon adopted by Sterling following a run-in with his dog. As one can imagine, most of the plot involves Rascal growing into a feisty critter, sneaking out of the house at night to raid neighbor’s pantries and corn patches, and getting into other mischief. Sterling’s mother passed away some years back, while his father travels for his job and is gone for weeks at a time. His grown sister, Theo (played by Pamela Toll,) has been taking care of the household for them, but leaves to work in Chicago at the start of the summer (and to meet up with her fiancée, played by Steve Carlson.) As a result, Sterling ends up spending most of the season alone with his pair of animal companions, bicycling through the woods, building a canoe in his living room, and other youthful revelries.

Don't look into the camera, Rascal...

But beyond the montages of the boy, his dog and his raccoon frolicking down dirt roads and falling asleep together, the film is primarily a breezily nostalgic character piece. Sharing almost equal screen-time with the story of Sterling and Rascal are subplots involving the town’s citizens - including a busybody neighbor played by Piglet voice-actor John Fiedler, Sterling’s concerned school-teacher, Miss Whalen (played with gentle warmth by Bettye Ackerman,) and a horse vs. motorcar race between town rivals played by character-actors Henry Jones and Richard Erdman. Everything is tied together by a bittersweet narration by an adult Sterling, voiced by veteran actor Walter Pigeon. The narration, in all honesty, is a bit too heavy-handed in its wistful nostalgia, but it does help in providing some worldly perspective to the Dandelion Wine-style narrative.



Obvious favoritism: no root beer for puppy...

Sterling’s father, Willard (played by Steve Forrest,) should be an unlikeable character; most of the early scenes between he and his son consist of him spinning yarns about how wonderful it is to be a free spirit and see so much of the country by himself, all while Sterling nods along in silence. Plus, he tries to talk his daughter into abandoning her career (and fiancée) to stay at home and continue playing nursemaid to them, and dismisses a potential maid that Theo had lined up to work for them (played by Mary Poppins’ Katie Nanna, Elsa Lanchester – who seems to have made a late-career goal of playing rejected nannies in Disney movies.) Yet Forrest’s smooth, drawling voice and natural charm make Willard difficult to dislike. There’s a sequence in the middle of the film, in which Sterling’s school-teacher and a local reverend (played by Jonathan Daly) attempt to intervene into the family’s situation, out of concern for the boy’s well-being. By the time evening comes, Willard has stuffed everyone with a full dinner, warm apple pie, and a large jug of apple cider he’s brought home from the road, all the while regaling his guests with stories and witticisms picked up in his travels. The laid-back atmosphere and easy camaraderie between the three, as they sip their drinks and talk, is intoxicating, making one almost wish the film won’t inevitably cut away to focus on Rascal’s shenanigans.

It puts the raccoon in the basket or else it gets the hose again...

The whole film gives off a pleasantly melancholy feeling, as if the memories of Sterling’s long summer could be some of our own, if only the time period were a little more recent. This airy remembrance actually aids in setting up some late-film drama, as Theo returns home with her fiancée to discover a messy house and a scruffy, lonely younger brother. Suddenly the sunny tint of the previous hour becomes a harsh spotlight, as Theo scolds her father for allowing his carefree lifestyle to adversely affect the family. The scene between the two is fantastic, as Toll and Forrest underplay the drama, never allowing emotion to override realism. One believes and identifies with a family disagreement slowly escalating into a life-altering argument, so natural is the rapport between the actors. One can almost feel the bitter surrender in Theo’s voice as she tells Willard she will apparently need to quit her job and break her engagement, stating “I’m going to have to do your job.”

Don't try that old "oops out of gas" routine with me, buddy...

Of course, being a Disney family movie, everything wraps up in a more-or-less tidy fashion; yet the preceding story is told with such delicacy and attention to detail that one can gloss over the less-than-memorable sequences (such as one where the ladies of the town go ape-shit upon spotting Rascal loose in the general store, falling over each other into pickle barrels.) With a solid script and even stronger performances, this is one of frequent Disney-director Norman Tokar’s hidden cinematic gems that deserves another look.