Black Adam

Deja-Zam!

or

"You Want to Split the World in Two"
 

It seems an odd choice—outside of Dwayne Johnson's wish to make it so—to make a movie centered around a relatively lower-tier character as Black Adam—known primarily as a villain in DC's "Shazam!" comics (so-named due to copyright restrictions imposed by DC's main funny-book competitor Marvel comics, despite their "Captain Marvel"-named character appearing later). It's rather like the pivot the MCU made when they started a series based on "Guardians of the Galaxy" (Why them? Why at that time?"). But, then, the Warner Brothers Studio has made a lot of odd choices in their perpetual game of "catch-up" with Marvel Studios—the sudden rush to make a "Justice League" movie despite one being in development for a decade, an "Aquaman" movie before making a movie of "The Flash" or a decent "Green Lantern" movie or even making another, less than morose "Superman" film (but then, Marvel can't seem to make a good "Fantastic Four" film and is only getting around to making a "Namor, the Submariner" feature—created in the 1940's—by introducing him in Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, apparently).

 

Maybe it has something to do with toy sales. I don't know. It's as good a reason as any. Certainly, it has nothing to do with "art."

But, as these things go, the resulting movie isn't bad (but, it's not good, either). In fact, for much of its 2 hours+ length, it's a murderously efficient action film that purposely (rather than accidentally) questions the moral ambiguity of vigilantism in the guise of "doing good." It just matters who thinks what is good. That keeps shifting and changing throughout the course of the movie, where heroes do bad things and villains might be useful to a greater good. It's a long way from "white hats" and "black hats." But, don't confuse that with any sort of sophistication of thought.

The movie starts...with some verrry long exposition...in ancient times. Of a king named Ahk-Ton who ruled the middle-Eastern kingdom of Khandaq with impunity and, seeking the powers of a god, enslaved his people to look for a powerful mineral called Eternium, with which he would form "the crown of Sabbac". With this, he would be able to summon the power of the gods from the Rock of Eternity, granting him the stamina of Shu, speed of Horus, strength of Amon, wisdom of Zehuti, power of Aten, and the courage of Mehen* just by saying the magic word "Shazam!" (The Breath of Sekhmet is only needed if you having to do a lot of heavy expositioning.)

Anyway, the slave-boy Hurut, who finds the Eternium, learns a valuable lesson that life in Khandaq is cheap and grown-ups are not to be trusted. Ahk-Ton learns a valuable lesson when the ancient Egyptian gods double-cross him for his hubris and give the power of Shazam to wised-up Hurut.

Then, "something bad" happens powerful enough to send us into 21st Century Khandaq, where government has broken down and the place is run by the International Crime syndicate, Intergang. A resistance movement/archaeological team (they have those?) led by Adrianna Tomaz (Sarah Shahi) is searching for the crown of Sabbac, because, you know, power and all. They get ambushed by Intergang shock-troops and only when Adrianna finds a way to resurrect Teth-Adam (or Black Adam)(Johnson) from his imprisonment in the Khandaqian version of The Rock of Eternity do they manage to escape with their lives. Intergang, however, gets cooked, poached, crushed, and blown apart by Adam's powers.

Enough damage is done that it gets on the radar of Amanda Waller (Viola Davis via zoom-call) who calls on The Justice Society of America to intervene.

Wait. Wait. Wait. 

Excuse me, your Honor. Side-bar?

Nobody may "get" this or even think it's important if they don't read a lot of DC comic-books. I have. So, what in the multi-verse is Amanda Waller doing being in charge of The Justice Society (they're the old heroes from the 1940's "Golden Age" of comics as well as...to keep things simple...younger heroes who have accepted "the mantle"). Amanda Waller (it has been established) is in charge of Task Force X—ya know, "The Suicide Squad" (whether it has the "The" or not)—the criminal sacrificial lambs who go on missions nobody else wants to do or are so illegal they have to be hush-hush. What's she doing in charge of anybody possessing or professing any sort of moral compass?

Well, that's troubling. Not just because the "good guys" are being run by "bad guys" but because the mission they're being sent on is to corral the "new threat" while absolutely ignoring the "old threat" that has been plaguing the populace—out in the open—for years. Huh, some heroes—those being Dr. Fate (Pierce Brosnan), Hawkman (Aldis Hodge), Atom-Smasher (Noah Centineo) and Cyclone (Quintessa Swindell). Trust me, you don't want to dig too deep into these heroes and their origins, because a couple of them are either confused (Hawkman) or ridiculous (Cyclone).** 

It is nice to see Dr. Fate and Hawkman put in the movies, though—Brosnan does a fine, fine job in the role and it's good that they gave Hawkman a look that isn't completely stupid (he's appeared in the CW Arrowverse shows and in "Smallville"). It is not nice that they're basically little tin soldiers heroically doing things that aren't heroic. In fact, for much of the movie, the JSA can be seen as being "the bad guys" as they hector among themselves before considering what it is they are actually doing (rather than the requisite property damage while single-mindedly doing "the job" they were ordered to do).

In fact, Johnson's performance here is so "johnny-one-glower" that the movie naturally gravitates towards these new heroes (that the average movie-goer knows nothing about) for any sort of sense of what it is going on. They banter and bicker until Teth-Adam miraculously learns English from his ancient Khandaqian and joins in the snark. Well-paced and edited snark, but snark—and relentless snark—nonetheless. Everybody learns to play nice while kicking the crap out of everybody so they can defeat their common enemy—a villain that nobody and, indeed, Amanda Waller, have ever heard of. There is one super-hero death (which actually affected me—"Awww, they were pretty good!"), a switch-out on the principal origin story, and one scene of conflicted conscience that is dismissed with a quip and then forgotten about like one more tossed-to-the-horizon bad guy.

I'd like to say I enjoyed it, but all I can do is give it some tight-lipped respect for its pace for most of its length, and wonder at how the dark tone of this one—they had to go through four edits before it was dropped from an "R" to a "PG-13" rating—is going to merge with the inevitable mash-up between the larky "Shazam!" movies and this franchise off-shoot. It'll be like mixing ice cream with jalapeños.***

Or like mixing super-heroes with real-life problems. That trick never works. Since the time that cars started to be thrown around city-streets, nobody has ever paused to discuss the insurance implications. No super-hero has ever tried to stop poverty, homelessness, or severe drought or mass-starvation (Hell, it doesn't even happen in the real world, where Super-Democrats throws several tons of cash at it and Super-Republicans use their "Ignore-it-it doesn't exist" vision). It doesn't even work in super-hero satire. Superheroes are fantasy-land, a panacea to distract us from real world problems in a constant loop of goofy star-fish shaped alien threats and killer clowns that we see again and again.

Black Adam is no different. It is the same sort of feint that implores us to "look up in the sky" so we don't see the problems on the ground.

 

And not even a "last minute" cavalry appearance by Superman can save the day.

* Confused? Yeah, sure, if you've read Captain Marvel Comics. All this Khandaq stuff happened way, way before the Greco-Roman gods that Captain Marvel/Billy Batson siphons off every time he yells "Shazam!": that would be the wisdom of Solomon, the strength of Hercules, the stamina of Atlas, the power of Zeus, the courage of Achilles, and the speed of Mercury. What I want to know is: where did the Khandaq gods go when the Greco-Roman gods showed up and were looking for accommodations in Mount Olympus or Valhalla or wherever. Evidently,all these gods didn't die—despite what Wonder Woman says—because their batteries are still fully charged to torch the pilot lights of Captain Marvel, the Marvel Family, and Black Adam! They must have gone somewhere...and we're not even mentioning Rock n' Roll Heaven (where you know they have a helluva band!) 

 

** When I saw the Justice Society line-up before seeing the movie, I thought "Huh! That's interesting! They're putting in two super-heroes (Fate and Hawkman) who have origins in Egyptian lore! Maybe they'll do something interesting with that!" No such luck. They might have at some point, but nothing is made of it in the movie. At all.  As for the confusion surrounding Hawkman's origin (or origins), you couldn't figure it out even if you put on an Absorbascon.

 

*** What the hell! Someone's actually done this! Okay, bring on The Apocalypse, the world has finally gone absolutely mad!!

DC League of Super-Pets

It's International Dog Day...and we're in kind of "dog days" at movie theaters...so...this...

The Secret Life of Secret Identity Pets (They Wear Masks...and They Fight Crime!!!)

or

"You Know Nothing Until You've Drunk From the Cold Steel Tube of POWER!"

 

So, discriminating comic-book readers—and I mean DISCRIMINATING comic-book readers—fall into the Marvel camp and the DC camp (All the others don't matter because we're talking about "discriminating"). They are COMIC-BOOKS, but the "truefans" treat them very seriously. Deadly seriously. Because they're guys...and they're TOUGH guys who wouldn't be caught DEAD reading the rival company comic book. So, they don't want to hear that Marvel comics are soap-operas with powers and tights—not too far afield from Stan Lee's True Romance writing (did you ever stop to think that Peter Parker having two girlfriends fighting over him was basically "Archie"?). And DC Comics are wimpy because, well, they're more adolescent (until Frank Miller showed up) and because they have things like super-pets.*

 

Yeah. DC has had "super pets" since the "Silver Age" of Comics. Superman (and Superboy) had Krypto, the Super-dog (and Beppo, the Super-Monkey). Supergirl had Streaky, the super-cat and Comet, the Super-horse (about which we don't say too much). The Atom had Major Mynah. Aquaman had Topo the octopus and Storm the seahorse (in his cartoon series, as well as the comics).

And Batman had Ace, the Bat-hound. Who used to wear a mask. Because he had a secret identity or something. Oh, you laugh now. But, hipster British writer Grant Morrison topped that when he created a character called "Bat-cow."

Bat-cow does not appear in DC League of Super-Pets.** Nor does Beppo, or Streaky, or Comet (or Cupid), or Topo, or Storm...not even Detective Chimp. But, Ch'p does. You know. Ch'p, the squirrel Green Lantern—he's called "Chip" now (and voiced by Diego Luna). And "Merton" (voiced by Natasha Lyonne!) the speedster turtle from the Zoo Crew, a "funny animal" version of DC heroes, that starred Captain Carrot. I am not making this up.

But, the leads for DCLOSP are Krypto (Dwayne Johnson) and Ace (Kevin Hart), the World's Furriest (re-teaming from Central Intelligence). Plus, there's a pig (Vanessa Bayer ), who for some sexist misogynist reason is associated with Wonder Woman (Jameela Jamil). What, we're looking for logic here? It's a cartoon about super-animals, fer Rao's sake! And it's not canon! In fact, it's a toy commercial.

 

But, I digress...

DCLOSP picks up where every good's children's cartoon should start—with the destruction of an entire planet and race of people. Yeah, they "do" Krypton again, and it's amusing that Superman's parents, Jor-El (Alfred Molina, not even attempting Brando...that's restraint) and Lara (Lena Headey), wear glowing white suits like the first Christopher Reeve movie (they even use John Williams' "Krypton Theme" here). It seems that Jor-el's dog Krypto hitched a ride in that Krypton arc and, like his master Clark Kent (John Krasinski), gained super-powers (I live under a yellow sun and I never got super-powers...not even a lousy "S" t-shirt!). 

And they're the best of buddies...except for one nagging detail—I use the word "nagging" because it's Lois Lane (Olivia Wilde). Jor-el didn't like her in "The Donner Cut" of Superman II, and Krypto IS his dog, after all, loyal way past death. Well, Clark and Lois are getting kind of serious, and Krypto, in his doggy way, knows that three's a crowd (if not a kennel) and he won't be getting bed-privileges anymore. Naturally, he's ready to concede that pecking orders are overrated and he will be happy to have Lois in his life because...two masters, right? 

Not!

Where's a super-villain when you need him to upset the status quo? Fortunately, Lex Luthor—while not busy "fixing" voting machines and stacking the courts and raising pharmaceutical prices...and...lobbying—is working on a nefarious plot: to use his ultra-powerful tractor beam to capture an asteroid made of (wait for it) "orange kryptonite." "Orange kryptonite?" What does that do? Turn you into a pillar of granules like "Tang?" No, Lex has it in his follicle-disadvantaged head—Chris Rock, don't make a joke!—that orange kryptonite gives you Earth-folks super-powers (maybe because of all that Vitamin-C!) and is determined to capture it. Well, the Justice League—Keanu Reeves voices Batman, which is just precious—prevents it, but it doesn't stop a former LexCorps test-animal, a guinea-pig named Lulu (Kate McKinnon, having a good, manic time)—now relegated to an animal shelter because of her bad attitude—from capturing a shard of orange K with her own tractor beam, thus giving her (bwa-ha-ha) super-powers.

It also affects that list of shelter animals mentioned previously and they all pack-up with a de-powered Krypto (someone put green kryptonite in his flea-and-tick collar) to make everything all right for Truth, Justice, and The Never-Ending Battle Against Dander. Nothing to sneeze at! By the end, all the super-powered pets have teamed up with super-humans and everybody lives fuzzily ever after. Even Wonder Woman and her pig.

Look, I wasn't fond of The Secret Life of Pets, and this is merely that movie with super-powers although some of the "in" jokes are kinda funny. The meta-acknowledgment of a required "training montage" is a nice touch (although it's not that prevalent). At one point, Lex Luthor crows to the captive Justice League: "I had my office turned into a rocket-ship! All the billionaires have one!" To which Batman replies "It's true. They do." That's almost as good as the pregnant pause in the middle of a confrontation where Batman blurts "I miss my parents..." or when he rejects having a canine partner by growling "I always work alone...except for Robin. And Alfred. And Commissioner Gordon. And that guy Morgan Freeman plays." This Batman isn't very self-aware.

My favorite joke comes when Ace (the Bat-hound with a mask, remember) trying to take the starch out of Krypto's cape supposes that his "dooky" doesn't stink. "My dooky doesn't stink," replies Krypto. "It smells more like sandalwood." Which, when your Master is The Big Blue Boy Scout, of course it does!

 

Those moments created some respite. But, don't take my opinion. The true test if an animated film works is with an audience of children (which is how I saw it). These kids could not keep still, running up and down the aisle, changing seats, running up and down the aisle, asking for a sugar IV drip, running up and down the aisle. It's like they wanted to do anything else than watch this movie and I couldn't blame them. I have scene films where the kids sat in rapt attention and didn't want to leave even when the film ended—E.T. and The Black Stallion come to mind—but this discriminating nest of rugrats wasn't "buying" any of it.

 

Personally, I blame the Snyderverse. This is why we can't have nice superheroes anymore...

"C'mon, Krypto," says Zack. "Let's see more of a snarl."

 

* We don't talk about Groot and Rocket Raccoon because they're soo bad-ass.

 

** The company name is actually IN the title, which tempts me to © it.

Red Notice

Saturday is traditionally "Take Out the Trash" Day.

Three Eggs Make an Omelette
 or

A Gal Caught Between a Rock and a Nut-Case

 

So, the story is that Cleopatra received three ornate eggs given to her by Marcus Antonius on their wedding day (historical note: they never married), and over the centuries, two of those jewel-encrusted eggs had fallen into the hands of museums or private collectors, after being discovered by a farmer in 1907, and the third is still out there, it's whereabouts unknown.

 

That's the McGuffin of Red Notice—those three eggs—but as they're McGuffins, they could be anything. Precious jewels, gold bullion, carved birds, lottery tickets, Arks of the Covenant, Sacred Stones, The Holy Grail or Crystal Skulls. That's the curious thing about these types of movies—we as the audience don't care about what the stakes are as much as the people in the story care about them. If the story of the hunt is entertaining, we're along for the ride, whatever the thingamabob is. They can be Sacred Sow's Ears as long as they make a silk purse of a movie out of it. For the viewer, it's a lot like buying crypto-currency; Perception is all. (That's three simple words, Matt Damon)

 

The perception, of course, is that Red Notice would work. You have three stars, each capable of having a movie financed as long as they're in it (forget that the last couple of movies of each have been lackluster at the box office). They're all entertaining in their own right and have a favorable public perception, so putting them in one movie will make it three times as good. Right?

Right? Well, we'll get there. There's a lot of activity at Rome's Museo Nazionale di Castel Sant'Angelo, where one of those Cleopatra eggs is on display. Inspector Urvasi Das (Ritu Arya) is leading a team of Interpol agents and massive FBI criminal profiler John Hartley (Dwayne Johnson) on his suspicion that the egg is about to be stolen by the legendary art thief Nolan Booth (Ryan Reynolds). The Museo's security chief is dismissive because his security measures are unbreakable, there have been no attempts, he doesn't know anything about Hartley, and, look, the egg's right there in front of all these crowds here.

But, this is The Rock, after all. He rips his own shirts, jumps around skyscrapers and pilots boats over tsunami's! He sings, he dances, he even has snit-fits with Vin Diesel! Of course, there's reason to be concerned! To everyone's surprise, Hartley breaks through security and melts the displayed egg with a can of product placed Coke®—not even the Diet or Zero Sugar version! The egg has already been stolen! Displaying his crack comic timing, Booth (who is in the crowd because he's so subtly stealthy) immediately lights out while the Museo's security measures slooooooowly go into place, allowing Hartley' FBI agent to manfully wrestle them from closing entirely in his pursuit. Booth is amazingly spry and quick-thinking and makes fast-work of evading the guards and creating a lot of damage in the museum's conveniently safety-defying construction zone—there's a Wilhelm scream and many sound-alike ones for the sharp eared. The sharp-eyed will merely start rolling them.

But, when Das and Hartley track Booth down at his home in Bali, the egg is stolen by Booth's rival Sarah "The Bishop" Black (Gal Gadot) while it is being secured...because Gal Gadot looks so much like an Interpol strike force commando. Because of the botched recovery, Das has Hartley arrested—instead of investigating it for six weeks—and has him and Booth incarcerated...in a high security Russian penitentiary. That's right, a Russian penitentiary. Why? I don't know, I'm just reading the graphics! But, Booth and the man who arrested him get to share the same cell (!!) and plan to make their escape, after Black confronts them and offers to have them released if Booth tells her where the third egg is...as he apparently knows its location.

By now, you're asking why Booth needed to steal the museum egg if he already knew where the third one was. By now, I had stopped asking questions like that as I knew that I would have to call 9-1-1 to have them put me in a padded cell for observation if I was going to make it all the way through this 90 minute movie...and I was only 30 minutes into it. Let's just summarize that the movie continues in this throbbing vein with lots of set-pieces, changes of locale, and a snarky quip from Reynolds' Booth every 9.5 seconds—the best one is "Man, we've got bad fathers. It's a miracle we're not strippers!"—and double, triple and quadruple crosses (if you're even bothering to keep track), underpinning the many plot-holes that the movie digs for itself.

Did I like the movie? I didn't have enough Xanax to be absolutely sure, but I will say this: with a film this that has the consistency—and nutritional value—of cotton candy, one desperately clings to the stars as if it were the last hanging thread of a rapidly fraying rope. And each, in their own way, disappoints. One can hardly blame them, the script gives them nothing—absolutely nothing—to work with, and one gets the sense that they're riffing with whatever star-stuff they can ooze from their pores. Reynolds has the "Bob Hope" role; he takes nothing seriously and just does the free-ranging Deadpool "schtick" devoid of context and appropriateness. Very early on, you get the sense that anything this character achieves is done by accident, as he is such a jabbering screwball, he must be thinking up zingers rather than keeping his mind on what he's doing. Frequently, his character is bound or tied up, but they never gag him because, as a result, 90% of the movie would just go away.

Gal Gadot is another matter. I'm a big fan of hers, my opinion only increasing after watching out-takes of the Wonder Woman movies, where she cracks up incessantly over the sheer absurdity of what she's being asked to wear and do. Yet, when the cameras roll, there is a professional dedication to making the uncredible credible and through sheer force of will makes you believe. The stakes to "make it work" aren't as high here, and so Gadot falls back on personality. Perhaps inspired by Reynolds' irreverence for the material, she, at times, just "has fun with it" (as the useless direction goes), prancing, singing, trying anything she can to make what she's got to do seem lively, but it's inconsistent throughout the movie, which, although it works when scenes are dragging, makes you take her less seriously when she drops it in scenes where she has less to do. A consistent attitude to one or both of the male leads would have helped...but that's the script's fault.

Finally, there's "The Rock". I think Dwayne Johnson is a national treasure. He is quite capable of doing anything, and he does comedy and drama equally well, and as a personality has a propensity for not taking himself seriously which puts him head and shoulders above the Schwarzeneggers and Stallones when it comes to the action genre. They're capable of dull heat, but Johnson sparkles with star quality, risking the perception that his physicality or power won't be taken seriously. The truth is he can overpower any presence sharing the screen with him, and has done so frequently. Here, though, maybe in deference to his co-stars, maybe to set himself apart and find his own lane, maybe to ground the thing a bit, he puts in less of an effort and coasts. It's disappointing, and one wonders what might have happened if he pushed it just a bit more, stepping on a Reynolds line, being more of a rogue, instead of playing straight man. Johnson should not set up, when he's capable of hitting things out of the park.

And they each got $20 million bucks doing this. The market will bear what it bears, and I don't begrudge them taking a big front-end pay-off than depending on the gamble of any back-end profits in a time of empty theaters and a streaming pandemic. But, the results are so meager and discouraging that you wonder if anybody could have made this movie work at all. All three of them are capable of "carrying" a movie by themselves, but sharing the responsibilities is a case of diminished returns, a train-wreck, and a disappointment. 

 

It feels like a "third wheel" problem, and maybe one of the three characters should have been dropped, but it's a mystery as to who it should be—it could be any of them, frankly. It's just the shell of a movie and empty inside. Like an egg. Maybe that's the real McGuffin of the movie, if anyone cared.

Wilhelm Alert at 09:50

The Other Guys

Written at the time of the film's release...

Saturday is traditionally "Take Out the Trash" Day. (Remember when Adam McKay made comedies?)

"Did That Go the Way You Thought It Was Gonna Go?""Nope."

or 

"Anything You Say Can and Will Be Used...(what's the rest?)" "As a Flotation Device..."

More comedy, and this one's even very funny for its first half, but then, once one scene goes sideways and doesn't work, the whole thing falls apart like a hostage situation gone wrong.  And the audience is the hostage, waiting for it to kick back in...but it never does.

Allen Gamble (Will Ferrell) and Terry Hoitz (Mark Wahlberg) are two New York City detectives working in the considerable shadow of detectives Danson and Highsmith (Dwayne Johnson and Samuel L. Jackson in nice parodies of their "serious" screen-work), a team of glory-hounds for whom property damage is all in a day's conflagration, but who refuse to do the paperwork.  Gamble is self-described as "an accountant for law-and-order," and Hoitz is riding a desk-job after a shooting that goes wrong.* Gamble loves the mundane filing, but his partner Hoitz, itches to be "in the field." "I'm a peacock!" he is fond of remonstrating. "You've got to let me fly!" At which point, he is reminded that peacocks do not fly.** 

Unperturbed, and when advancement in the ranks becomes possible, the two glom onto a white-collar crime that Gamble has discovered that has connections to a series of high-profile robberies.  The mis-matched pair (Hoitz is volatile, Gamble is eerily up-beat) are completely street-dumb and their investigation is constantly being dis-railed (sometimes literally) by distractions and their lack of ability to resist the charms of their high-rolling suspect's lifestyle. Their increasing frustration with the case and each other (as well as Hoitz's relationship problems, in contrast with the milquetoast Gamble's inexplicable attractiveness to women) is fertile ground for situations that explode in conflict.

It works and works gang-busters for the first hour. The combination of loose script and improvisation is beefed up by all the actors (especially Ferrell and Michael Keaton, who does quick-silver wonders with the cliche "harried Captain" role), especially when the story is building and we're getting to know the characters. The "left-field" surprises come fast and loose, and the timing by the actors (and the editing) is crack. One senses trouble early on when Anne Heche (uncredited, by the way) is given a thankless role in which she's really not allowed to do anything funny...or much of anything. But Ferrell, for the most part, is at the top of his game playing the contrary stiff in a room full of crazies, and Wahlberg who, depending on the material, can be brilliant, plays pathetic frustration hilariously.  Even Eva Mendes acquits herself well in the mix, milking laughs out of the role of Gamble's absurdly perfect wife—Gamble's sexual magnetism makes for a great series of running gags throughout the movie.

But, right at the point where Bob, the union rep, gets dissed and leaves the room, the entire movie goes flat.*** Maybe the improv was getting too expensive and they decided to "coast." Maybe the assurance of an "action-filled" finale made them scrimp on the script.  Maybe the irrelevant story-line getting in the way changed the tone. Maybe everyone got tired. But, for whatever reason, The Other Guys is two movies..."Good Cop" comedy and "Bad Cop" comedy.

Interestingly, the most useful part of the movie is the end credits where the increasing disparity between the incomes of the top 1% earners and the rest of us is presented in chilling graphic detail.

"Wilhelm" Alert @ 1:30

 

* Hint:  He's called "The Yankee Clipper" around the squad-room.

** What can I say?  It's New York, and the Bronx Zoo is the closest they come to a peacock.  Peacocks do indeed fly, but it's a brief, clumsy, scary thing to watch—which I think was the point of bringing it up in the movie.

*** It's funny I can pinpoint it, because that's where the movie became NOT funny, and I thought to myself..."Well, THAT didn't work..." and watched to my amazement as very little worked after.

Moana

Moana (Ron Clements, John Musker, Don Hall, Chris Williams, 2016) I missed this in the theater, and I will regret that until I have the opportunity to rectify it (which is certainly on my list of things to do). Given the evidence on the inadequate video screen on which I saw this, Moana deserves, even begs, to be seen as big as it can in order to truly appreciate the beauty of the thing and to wonder at the details of it and to be whacked upside the eyeballs with its color palette.

Why the reluctance? I'd say "Frozen burn-out" (a variation of "Freezer Burn") even though I truly enjoyed that movie and thought it did a lot of good in rectifying some inherent issues with the fabled "Princess Movie." "Been there/Done That/Let it Go." Bad mistake. Because Moana does a lot of interesting story-telling things (like bridging the gap between fairy-tale, folk-tale and myth) and expanding the magical realm to take on broader themes than just personal satisfaction—all those "I Want" songs!—and taking up the theme of stewardship and responsibility. This is Disney (under John Lasseter's mentorship), but cousin Pixar Studios was putting its toe into that same ocean with its short, "Lava," released in 2014.

One may assume they were checking each other's work. Moana challenges and occasionally tops the photo-realism that was being attempted in "Lava," but pops with more detail and texture. One can argue the efficacy of making everything picture-postcard-perfect,* but one can't be anything but amazed at such imagery in motion. CGI can make magic realistic, but it very rarely makes it the visual poetry that Moana accomplishes.

The story starts a bit traditionally mixing the "Princess" mythology with "The Hero's Quest." We get a preamble of "what went wrong" when the shape-shifting (and vain-glorious) demi-god Maui (voiced eventually by Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson) sought to possess the pounumo stone, the heart of the mother island Te Fiti, with which she could create life from the oceans. Attaining the stone, Te Fiti collapses and Maui is attacked by the volcano-demon Te-Ka, who knocks him out of the sky, breaking his magical fish-hook and sending the stone into the depths of the sea. Legend has it that powerful forces still search for the stone that might still restore Te Fiti before the dark times befall the islands, unless a chosen warrior can find the heart, and travel past the island's reef, and convince Maui to restore the stone to its rightful place.

Cue Moana, who, if we're to believe the opening has been chosen by the sea to be that warrior, even if her parents, Chief Tui (Temuera Morrison) and Sina (Nicole Scherzinger), choose to ignore the signs and insist the their daughter stay at home and learn how to be the next chief. They're also ignoring the signs of blight on the island, ruining the crops and shrinking the fish-catches. Moana's already thinking ahead, arguing with her father to take their nets beyond the reef, and is determined to show him she's right by taking a skiff out herself, only to to be scuttled, her boat destroyed and her nearly drowning in the attempt. Her parents forbid her from ever taking another boat out into the ocean again. What's the Ma'ori word for "grounded?"

But, Moana's grandmother Tala (the amazing Rachel House) doesn't discourage her. She tells Moana the story of Maui and Te Fiti and leads her to a cave that houses the boats that originally brought her people to the island and how the demi-god's actions caused the oceans to turn against her people and never again leave the island. She gives her the "heart" stone and points to a hook in the stars, telling Moana to follow them to find Maui. Moana goes back to the cavern and takes one of the boats and heads out to sea to accomplish the task of saving the island and her people.

After a terrifying journey, guided by the spirit of her grandmother, Moana's craft capsizes in a storm and she and the craft are washed ashore on the island. But, hook drawings on the rocks assure her that she has actually reached the island where Maui, having lost the hook that allows him to shape-shift, has been stranded for a thousand years. Maui, understandably, is glad to see her—she has a boat; he can get off the island. Moana tells her of her plan but he won't have any of it; he's a demi-god, after all, and he's used to doing what he wants to do, and not taking orders from natives. Praying to him might help, but being out of activity for so long he's more than likely to ignore her.

Much bickering, much attitude. Moana thinks he's a jerk; he thinks she's ungrateful. Finally, he just takes her boat and leaves her stuck in a cave while he sails off. But, he's just a demi-god, and Moana has a powerful ally in the ocean, which is only too happy to deposit Moana back on the boat no matter how hard Maui can throw her off of it. He tries to throw the heart away. The ocean throws it back. He jumps overboard and starts swimming. Not for long before he's thrown back onto the boat. He's fighting a losing battle and he, understandably, does want to take on another one, liking returning the heart back to its source and confronting Ta Ka.

Despite it being a Disney movie, the course of those never run smoothly, and, besides the two sailors wanting to go in different directions, they have to deal with Kakamora pirates, regaining Maui's hook from a monster crustacean named Tamatoa (Jemaine Clement), and then, and only then, with Maui's powers intact, maybe taking on Te Ka, so that Moana can return the heart to Te Fiti—if it were only that easy. Oh, yeah, and there's a crazy chicken that keeps getting in the way. What would a Disney princess by without a "familiar?"

The songs are less traditional, more snappy with more patter, more rhythm and less melody, as they're crafted by Lin-Manuel Miranda, and, although the film is free of Broadway/Vegas showstoppers, they bounce along, don't outwear their welcome, and never impede the narrative. The animation department also compensates by ramping up the speed during those moments. The film never drags, although there are times the visuals are so gorgeous that you want to hang just a little bit longer.

It's also a solid story, combining folklore, anthropology, sociology, ecology, and fairy tale and myth. Tall order for a cartoon. Everything is hitting all cylinders and a joke never falls flat. Nor did the animation skimp on the scenery for the characters and vice versa. Vistas are photo-realistic (or better), and the expressions are rubbery and recognizable as human beings'. 

It all works amazingly well, enchanting entertainment for young and old alike. It's just that I wish I could have seen it on a big screen where all the amazing handiwork could be appreciated in all its glory. We'll make it a life-goal.

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