The Croods (2013) Written and Directed by Kirk Di Marco and Chris Sanders

 

I was in love once. He was a hunter, I was a gatherer. It was quite the scandal. We fed each other berries, we danced. Then father bashed him on the head and traded me to your grandfather.—Gran

 

Are you White, Asian (and I think this includes Native Americans and Latinos), or African American? Then you are probably 2.5% Neanderthal.  Do you hail from New Guinea, the Pacific Islands, or are an Australian Aborigine?  Then you may have up to 5% Denisovan (another branch of the human family tree) genes.  The point is, we emerged out of Africa, then got to know some Neanderthals really well, and our bloodline carried on from there.

 

This movie reflects that basic scientific fact.  And it does it in a most human way.

 

Meet the Croods: Grug and Ugga, their son, Thunk, their daughters Eep and Sandy, and of course, Gran.  They are all that are left of a small community of Neanderthals.  They have survived largely because of the efforts of Grug, whose personal motto is “Never *not* be afraid.”  And to Grug’s credit, it has kept his family alive through very harsh times that saw their friends, the Gorts, the Horks, the Erfs, and the Throgs who died by mammoth stompage, sand snake swallowing, mosquitos and the common cold, respectively.

 

Of course, being a teenage girl, living in a cave with no one but family to interact with can be difficult, and Eep, in the manner of teenage girls everywhere, shares that difficulty back. Any father with a daughter older than 13 knows exactly what I am talking about.

 

Then two events happen that change everything.  First, Eep meets a stranger, Guy, a Cro-Magnon, and the world ends. 

 

Oh, the world ends in nice stages; natural disasters timed to move the story along at the right speed.  The cave is destroyed, they have to move towards higher ground.  And if communications break down too far…well, a disaster stops the bickering and gets them moving again.

 

Guy is full of ideas.  He wears boots, giving him the clear advantage in covering thorny ground.  He has a belt, a sloth who is part side kick, part comic relief, and also keeps his pants up.  Guy has fire.  That’s a big one.  Grug just has Neanderthal strength (which is considerable, and consistent with what we know about prehistoric hominids) a collection of stories, and a bone deep distrust of anything new.  He also has the boundless love for his family that half hampers him, and makes him rise above his own limitations.  There is a theme, as old as time, of the competition between father and suitor for the affections of the daughter;

Grug: Don't. It could be dangerous.

Eep: Dad, you always say that.

Guy: Careful.

Eep: Oh, okay.

[Grug sighs in exasperation]

Yep, somethings are just written in the genes.  Literally.

 

And ultimately, that is what the Croods are about; the old and the new coming together to create something different, yet fundamentally the same.  Whatever the case when our ancestors met the Neanderthals, the children of those unions were raised in families.  That is one of our races great secrets of survival…we are families.  Each has a role, each contributes to the whole.  And which families survive? The ones who adapt.  It’s a good message.  It’s a good movie. Share it with your family.

The Cast:

  Nicolas Cage  ...  Grug (voice) 

  Emma Stone  ...  Eep (voice) 

  Ryan Reynolds  ...  Guy (voice) 

  Catherine Keener  ...  Ugga (voice) 

  Cloris Leachman  ...  Gran (voice) 

  Clark Duke  ...  Thunk (voice) 

  Chris Sanders  ...  Belt (voice) 

Randy Thom  ...  Sandy (voice) 

“Release the baby!”—it’s not a good thing.

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug Directed by Peter Jackson.  Based on the book by J.R.R. Tolkein

 

Kili: Aren't you going to search me? I could have anything down my trousers.

Tauriel: Or nothing.

 

Here’s the feeling this movie gave me; once upon a time, a very long time ago, I went to the hospital with my grandmother when one of her friends was ill.  I had to sit in the waiting room for hours, and the only thing I found to read was one of those Reader’s Digest Condensed books.  I read one story in it, and had started another when Granny reappeared, and I was saved.  About a year later, the book was made into a movie, and the story was much fuller and richer than the condensed book had been.  This experience felt like that.

 

The story takes us from when the Giant Eagles dropped our intrepid heroes off, through the Myrk Wood, and the spiders within, past the elves (did you know Legolas was the son of the King of the Wood Elves?) and on down to the Lake Town, and into the Lonely Mountain.  There, they will encounter Smaug, the greatest of calamities.

 

There is much in the movie that wasn’t in the book…for instance, Radagast the Brown was no more than a mention in the books.  Here, he is a demented little wizard who gets around in a bunny powered sleigh, and has birds nest hair, literally, and a guano conditioner.  He adds colour and humor, but…he wasn’t in the book.  Not like this.  The same with Azog, chief among the hunters of the dwarves.  He is a mention in the book…a main player in the movie. The list goes on; Tauriel, Legolas, their non-romance, Tauriel, Kili, their attraction.  Never written, never to be forgotten.

 

So…what does that say for the movie?  Well, it says it is far more about Peter Jackson than it is about J.R.R. Tolkien. It is also a brilliant movie; stunningly well made, and will no doubt collect a share of Oscars for its troubles.  It has single handedly made dwarves sexy, (though honestly Richard Armitage, Aidan Turner, and Dean O'Gorman deserve most of that credit).  It is well worth seeing, even to a bibliopurist like me. 

 

Why was the one prequel cut into three movies while the epic three books made do with one movie a piece?  I have two answers Pride and Greed.

 

Three movies make more money than One, and this is Jackson’s last chance to capitalize upon the Middle Earth Franchise.  That covers greed.  The other thing is Pride.  This is Jackson’s chance to really add something to the mythos.  And he has.  For good or ill, Radagast, and Azog are now major players, not marginalia.  And he has created something that will stand the test of time, becoming a part of our culture the exact same way The Wizard of Oz did, 74 years ago.  It is still relevant today, it is still watched today, it still draws a market share today.  Jackson can take great pride in what he has done; as a movie, it is remarkable.  As a vision, it is fully realized.  As the Hobbit…well, I think I will still need a decade to work out how I feel about that one.

 

But Jackson is a visionary; he wanted all his life to create a truly worthy King Kong…and he did.  Now, he has turned that same love and pride on The Hobbit, and for good or ill, our culture will change.

Frozen (2013) Written and Directed by Chris Buck and Jennifer Lee

 

Anna: But I want to help!

Kristoff: No! I don't trust your judgment!

Anna: Excuse me?

Kristoff: Who marries a man they just met?

Anna: It's true love!

 

Frozen is the story of two sisters, princesses.  The elder, Elsa (Idina Menzel) has formidable powers of ice and snow , but when she accidentally hurts her sister Anna (Kristen Bell) she withdraws into herself, trying desperately to suppress them.  Since Anna’s memories of Elsa’s powers had to be removed, she doesn’t understand why this is happening, and the sisters grow apart.

The story follows Anna’s desperate need for connection, and goes through her meeting, and becoming engaged to Hans (Santino Fontana), a minor princeling (13^th in the succession) from a neighboring kingdom.  Anna is sure it is true love, but when a row with her sister over the matter reveals Elsa’s out of control powers, it is all Anna can do to try to reach her sister, high up the mountains, with the help of Kristoff, local ice-cutter, his reindeer Sven, and Olaf, an enchanted snowman reconstituted by Elsa’s emotional blizzard.  Anna and Elsa must learn lessons about trust…both in others, and themselves.

I won’t go into more of the story, except to say it is a fairly standard, if delightfully told, animated adventure.  The art is beautiful, the music memorable, and the whole affair immensely entertaining.  None of that is why I love this story, though it all certainly helps.

What I love about this story is the message.

 

The protagonists are girls; sisters.  Anna is our hero.  The boys who act as love interests are, well, love interests. But the sisters are far from passive.  There are no damsels, sitting high in their ivory towers waiting for rescue…Elsa may be in an icy tower high on the Matterhorn, but she is not waiting to be rescued; she is trying to save others from herself, from the powers of ice and snow that have slipped her rigid control.  Elsa is not a victim; she is a sacrifice.

Anna is not waiting for rescue either.  She is attempting to rescue the entire kingdom of Arendelle from her sister’s frigid melt down, and Elsa from herself.  Anna is not waiting for rescue, but is moving to rescue others.  When was the last time a girl was cast in that role in an animated movie?  Mulan?  Anna gets help, particularly from Kristoff (Jonathan Groff), the local ice-cutter, noted for his big features, big feet, and big opinion of his own worth.  He’s rough, crude, a bit self-centered, but kind.  And anyone who has a reindeer like Sven can’t be all bad. 

Further, the nobles in this piece are shown to be more than cookie cutter representations who are just there to give our heroine the thing that provides her with worth; a pedigree.  From the romantically supercharged Hans to the ridiculous but scheming Duke (Alan Tudyk) they have personalities, foibles, faults.  They aren’t quite three dimensional….but they are at least bas relief. 

The sisters solve their own problems.  They help each other.  It is a wonderful feminist metaphor.  Each is willing to sacrifice themselves for the other.  Both are proactive in seeking the other’s greater good.  There is also a wonderful Queer Theory metaphor in Elsa’s trying to hide, suppress, and control the powers that are a part of her, that set her apart from others, and how those powers seem to want to come out of the closet.

Gone are the patriarchal story of the princess, who by virtue of her beauty and station is whisked away to happily ever after by some handsome prince.  These are women who seeing others in trouble, move to help because they can, and because they should.  And that makes this a movie with a message I want the girls in my life to grow up with.

 

 

Book Review: Isabel Allende's ZORRO

Zorro by Isabel Allende

 

Chilean author Isabel Allende has taken on the daunting task of providing the classic El Zorro with the one thing he never seemed to be able to steal since his birth in 1919 to pulp writer Johnston McCulley, an origin story.  Here, Señora Allende takes elements from his various incarnations in pulps, books, comics, television and movies, and weaves them into a tapestry of high adventure, providing a link for the faithful Bernardo (his milk brother) Toranado, his faithful steed, and the despicable Rafael Moncado. 

 

As the son of the prosperous hacienda owner, Don Alejandro de la Vega, Diego de la Vega was privileged.  His mother however was a mestizo, a powerful warrior woman named Toypurnia.  In winning her heart, Alejandro ensured that his son would have a much wider view of the world.  Growing up with his milk brother, Bernardo, Diego learned to love people for who they were, not where they came from.  Sent to Spain by his father to complete his education, he falls in love, falls out of favor, falls in with Gypsies, and falls into a secret organization that will shape his life.  Each quest and adventure seems to give Diego a new skill, or forge a new strength, or burn away a weakness, all of which moves the young Diego and Bernardo to their destiny.

 

It is a curious thing, because Allende throws in the most humanizing elements in really spectacular ways; Isabel de Romeu has a wandering eye, described as cute and endearing, and Zorro’s mask performs the all important job of pinning his distinctive jug ears to his head.  And honestly, these little imperfects, discussed casually in an offhand manner really do much to bring the heroes from the pulps to people you can relate to.

 

But while her characters might be more down to earth, and subject to the same foibles, and pitfalls that harass thee and me, the adventure is purest pulp, from working undercover in a Gypsy circus, to fleeing arrest disguised as religious pilgrims to their harrowing capture by the Pirate, Jean Lafitte.  Zorro takes on soldiers with pistols and muskets with sword and whip, and they are no match for his brilliance.  He rights the wrongs, punishes the wicked, and helps the destitute.  He is, in every possible way, a Hispanic Robin Hood.

 

I think that is why his story is doing so well right now.  Diego de la Vega is a rich man, but his sympathies lie with the common man.  In these times of banks that are too big to fail, and bankers who are too rich to jail, and politicians who are quite comfortable lying to your face when they know the proof is on tape, it is heartening to see a hero who stands up to them, who brings down their plots and schemes, who helps the oppressed, and does it all without sinking to their level.  That is why Zorro was so popular, at the start of the Roaring Twenties, when the Robber Barons ruled, and during the Depression, when the entire country suffered from their unbridled excesses.  When the government stepped in and regulated business and protected the people, Zorro’s popularity waned.  Now, with the regulations set in place by our great grandfathers all stripped away, the time of corrupt, untouchable elite has returned, and Zorro, unsurprisingly rides again to find himself relevant once more.

 

The version I “read” was audio; the narrator was Blaire Brown, and it was a delightful experience.  There is something…refreshing…in seeing a swashbuckling adventure told through the eyes of a woman.  Usually when you think of Tarzan, Zorro, pirates, and other “boys’ adventures” you think of, well, male narrators, male authors, male sensibilities.  But filtering Don Diego de la Vega’s ideas about women and romance through our humble narratoress adds a rich dimension to the proceedings.

 

All in all, it was an excellent and enjoyable read, and it has prompted me to go forth and find the original works by Johnston McCulley, I having never read them before, only experiencing Zorro second hand in comics, TV and movies.  I have to say, I am looking forward to it.