REVIEW: Meet the Small Potatoes

Children's entertainment is a curious beast. On one hand, it obviously needs to be simple enough that kids can understand and digest it; it's why you'd likely be better off reading a child The Lorax rather than showing them An Inconvenient Truth. It's always been a go-to excuse to look at something that's dull or overly-simplistic or even outright mindless and say, "well yeah, but it's for kids", as if that dispels all criticism. I find this to be a bit of a cop-out, personally. While children are obviously less learned and experienced than the vast majority of their adult peers, I find that they understand a lot more than they are often given credit for. It's why I praise children's entertainment that treats kids like people, rather than house pets who need to be occupied by bright colors for a set period of time. I'll forever sing the praises of movies like Paranorman and shows like Animaniacs for giving kids something substantial in terms of entertainment, rather than the visual junk food that makes up such an overwhelming amount of children's entertainment. There happens to be no shortage of shows and movies on Netflix that falls into what I like to call the "digital babysitter" category. Shows that come to the rescue of beleagured parents everywhere; just mash play on something with bright colors and cloying songs and your spawn will be occupied long enough for you to shave a few hours off that road trip or numb yourself with a half dozen more cocktails before returning to that insurmountable chore that is raising your children. Which brings us to today's subject... Meet the Small Poratoes.

The second I saw this, I knew I had to experience... whatever this was. A musical mockumentary about a band of singing potatoes? And starring Malcolm McDowell, no less? How could I possibly refuse? From the moment it started, I knew I was in for something interesting. I'm not sure if you can surmise this from the few screenshots I've collected, dear reader, but the first half of this movie is one of the most surreal things I've ever seen targeted at children. It's far more Don Hertzfeldt than Veggie Tales. There's so much that goes unexplained, and this naturally generates interest; why are the potatoes voiced by British children? Come to think of it, why is everyone (with the exception of Malcolm McDowell) voiced by a British child? Why do the people they interview about the "band" include a pair of babies in a bathtub, an elderly hairdresser, and what I can only assume is a little Jewish boy? Why are they all potatoes? That's really the most concerning part about this for me. It's not like them being potatoes is especially important or anything; sure, they come from a farm in Idaho and French people are portrayed by talking fries, but everyone in the background is a human being. There's even a mention of potato chips being an accepted thing in this universe where potatoes are apparently sentient on the same level as humans. Truly this is a disturbing world, where the strong literally and figuratively devour the weak.

The first half of this movie is almost endearing with how damn weird it is, I swear. Sure, it's mostly just cloying songs about how the main characters are potatoes, but it ends up being so absurd to the point that it's nearly charming. Like something they would air on Adult Swim at four in the morning to baffle hilariously stoned college kids who just happened to land on the right channel at the right time. However, about halfway through, this odd little... whatever this is, things take a sharp turn right into Nick Jr territory. Bland cutesy characters singing about friendship and wanting to be a fireman and other concepts that are sure to entertain no one over the age of five. It started off as something that, while not exactly good, was at the very least certainly unique, and ended up as the same kind of uninspired, trite garbage that populates far too much of the children's entertainment genre. I was so close to almost respecting this musical potato movie; it gave off the impression that it didn't care what I thought of it. It was content to have anthropomorphic potatoes go on a world tour, gain "inspiration" in India, and then cut to another, older potato (we know he's older because of the beard, and how he's voiced by Malcolm McDowell) to gush about how talented they are. It was almost proud of how surreal and odd it was. But then it took a nosedive right into conformist mediocrity, and that's when it totally lost me.

Now I understand this review might make me come off like something of a loser; a big tough guy who's gonna put that baby's cartoon in its place. And you'd be exactly right to think that. This movie was weird and stupid and it's just as deserving of my ire as Jem or Furry Vengeance. I give it credit for at least trying to be different, what with how the beginning plays out like some experimental arthouse project, but the fact that it falls back on the same old moralistic platitudes as every other children's film grinds my gears but good. There's no fleshed-out characters, there's no clear protagonist, and there's no real overall moral. The mockumentary aspects will fly right over the heads of those young enough to actually enjoy the songs and lessons on display, but the songs and lessons will dissuade any kid old enough to find the surreal framework interesting or funny. Yes, it's for kids, but that doesn't mean it has to be mindless. We were all children at one point, and I remember that when I was a kid, I didn't appreciate being talked down to. It's why I grew out of Teletubbies and Barney before I could read, yet maintained a healthy appreciation for the pre-movie seasons of Spongebob all through high school. Children may not know too much about the world, but they know when they're being patronized. Kids deserve to be challenged and engaged by their entertainment; kids deserve better than this.

REVIEW: Finding Dory

It's been said that the problem with film as an art is that it's a business, while the problem with film as a business is that it's an art. If something is financially successful, you can be sure to see more of it; see Michael Bay's Transformer movies. Finding Nemo was a charming entry from Pixar's golden age (odd how we live in a time where "Pixar's golden age" doesn't range from the release of Toy Story to present day, but I digress); a successful classic in every sense of the word. It in no way required a sequel, seeing as how everything was wrapped up in a neat little package by the time the credits rolled. However, thirteen years and a couple billion dollars later, here we are with Finding Dory, a follow-up that essentially no one asked for. It's a film placed in a curious position; without a doubt, Finding Dory would not exist today if Nemo somehow turned out to be a box office dud. The original film was clearly not made with the intention of starting a franchise. When a film like Finding Dory comes along, a sequel that doesn't necessarily need to exist, it must fulfill at least one of two criteria in order to justify its existence; the first and most obvious is to introduce something new and original that expands upon the world of the first movie. The second is to prove itself as an enjoyable film in its own right. While Dory struggles with the former, it definitely succeeds at the latter.

The plot should be familiar to anyone who's seen Finding Nemo. After the amnesiac Dory (Ellen DeGeneres) recalls vague snippets of her early childhood, she realizes that she became lost from her family years ago and decides to set out and find them. With the help of Marlin (Albert Brooks) and Nemo (now voiced by Hayden Rolence), she journeys to California's Marine Life Institute in search of her long-lost parents and home. While it's a fun adventure with plenty of great new characters (the clear highlight being Ed O'Neil as Hank, a curmudgeonly octopus), I couldn't help but draw parallels between the plot of this film and the plot of Finding Nemo. There's a spooky action sequence where our protagonists are chased by a glowing monstrosity, there's a running gag involving comedic relief characters who hang around a harbor and repeatedly shout their catchphrase, there's a general anti-captivity vibe to the whole thing, characters are transported about via bird; I could go more in-depth with this, but this is definitely a sequel that takes the "same, but different" approach to story structure. Whereas a movie like Monsters University gave us a whole new movie with a whole new message that just happened to feature the same characters we've come to know and love, Finding Dory definitely plays it a lot safer. It's not a total retread, but the value here isn't exactly to be found in the plot.

Right from the get-go, the film places immediate emphasis on Dory. What was once the clear comedic relief in the first film is immediately given a much more tragic spin. Make no mistake, Dory's short-term memory loss is no longer a hilarious quirk; here, it is treated like a genuine mental illness, and it's honestly quite heartbreaking to watch within that context. Unfortunately, Marlin loses all character growth he'd gained over the course of the first film, remaining the brash, cowardly foil to Dory's more aloof savant, but the degree of characterization we're given for her here more or less balances things out. If Dory wasn't your favorite part in the first movie, she's definitely more endearing here (which is to be expected I suppose, seeing as how she's the main focus this time around).

As strong as DeGeneres' performance is here, I'd be lying if I said the new characters we meet weren't my favorite aspects of the entire movie. There's Fluke and Rudder (voiced by The Wire alums, Idris Elba and Dominick West), a pair of cockney sea lions who essentially serve as less one-note surrogates for the seagulls from the first movie. We also meet Destiny (Sweet Dee herself, Kaitlin Olson) and Bailey (Ty Burrell), a nearsighted whale shark and a neurotic beluga who live in the Institute; the two have great comedic chemistry and the worst thing about their inclusion here is that we hardly see enough of them. As I mentioned before though, the clear breakout here is Hank, the seven-limbed octopus (or more accurately, "septopus"), voiced by Ed O'Neill. This character was just great, world-weary and ill-tempered, an excellent match for Dory's blind optimism. O'Neill and DeGeneres work together sublimely, resulting in some of the best moments and funniest lines out of the entire movie. Not to mention, the animation employed on his fluid movements and on-the-spot camouflage abilities exemplify the absolute best visuals in an already gorgeous movie. The film sticks a bit too close to its predecessor, but its strongest moments definitely come from when it branches out and revels in trying something new.

Finding Dory is a movie that doesn't really need to exist. There were no real burning questions or loose threads at the end of the first movie, and it's clear that the only reason this film came to be is because we all love these charming, memorable, supremely profitable characters. Motivations for its inception aside, however, Finding Dory justifies its existence by being a fun, charming, sweet movie in its own right. While it does play things a little too safe and at times toes the line of being a retread of Finding Nemo, I still found it to be an enjoyable time. I didn't leave the theater unhappy in the slightest, and that's really all I can ask of a film. It's nothing groundbreaking, especially for Pixar, but it certainly wasn't disappointing or aimless. If you're looking for something gorgeous and funny with a surprising amount of heart, Finding Dory certainly fits the bill.

REVIEW: Sleepaway Camp

Sleepaway Camp is one of those movies that, despite being considered by many to be required viewing for the horror genre, I had never gotten around to actually seeing. While I'm far from a horror expert, I've seen most of the classics; from iconic masterpieces like Jaws and Alien to indie darlings like Trick R Treat to bona-fide pieces of history like The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. And yet Sleepaway Camp, a supposed classic that had slipped under my radar for all this time.

It's a simple enough premise, so quaint it almost borders on parody when viewed through a modern lens. The film focuses on Angela (Felissa Rose), a young girl, traumatized as a child following a horrible boating accident that left her orphaned. Now living under the care of her eccentric aunt, she and her cousin, Ricky (Johnathan Tiersten), are sent away to Camp Arawak for a summer of fun and excitement; unfortunately for the campers, there happens to be a killer in their midst. As the summer goes on, the bodies continue to pile up while everyone (including the viewer) tries to decipher who could possibly be behind it all.

With a plot like that, one might wonder just why Sleepaway Camp is considered such an essential cult classic; "80's summer camp" isn't exactly a standout backdrop for a slasher flick, especially when compared to the Friday the 13th series. What is it about Sleepaway Camp that makes it stand the test of time? There's an objective answer to this question; the ending. But I'll get to that later, in a timely (and spoiler-free) fashion. Aside from the obvious reason, it's honestly just a really fun watch. As would be expected from something in this particular wheelhouse, there's loads of unintentionally hilarious moments. From the jock who dies via bee attack while on the toilet, to the camp director who just wants to keep everything hush-hush, to the gaggle of guys who are maybe a little too enthusiastic to go skinny-dipping, there's a lot to laugh at in this movie. That said, these moments rarely feel jarring in tone; this is a horror movie that knows how to have fun with itself when appropriate. However, for all the cheesy gags and delightful 80's throwbacks, the climax of this film ratchets the tension up to eleven, delivering one of the most shocking, haunting endings to any film I've ever seen.

Again, no spoilers, but the ending of Sleepaway Camp is what makes this movie. The entire film proposes a mystery to both the characters and the audience; who is committing these murders? I went into this film knowing there was some sort of twist at the end, and as such I kept my eyes peeled for any clues that might be found. Truthfully, watching this movie knowing that there's a big reveal at the end enhances the entire thing. Every stray object becomes a potential murder weapon, every flare of adolescent aggression becomes a potential motive, every single character becomes a potential suspect. Before watching Sleepaway Camp, I had heard how apparently the ending was one of the most shocking in all of horror cinema, how it was truly disturbing, resonating with viewers to this day. Really though, how bad could it be? What could this quaint, goofy little low-budget slasher flick from the 80's possibly show me, a jaded child of the 90's, that could qualify as "disturbing"? What could this movie possibly do to "shock" me, in an age where The Human Centipede is a household name? Ladies and gentlemen, I under-estimated this movie and paid the price for it. I make no exaggeration when I say the ending of Sleepaway Camp is the most haunting piece of film I have ever seen. I don't want to over-sell it, and honestly the less I say, the better. But I know for sure that on repeat viewings, I'll be watching through my fingers.

For all my praise, I must implore you to go into Sleepaway Camp with modest expectations. There's a few strong performances and some nice camerawork and composition here and there, but it's for the most part a pretty generic film. It's a slasher movie about a killer at a summer camp, so there's only so much you can expect of it, but that doesn't change that half the scenes in this feel like lost footage from Wet Hot American Summer. It's goofy and corny, but it's built around a pretty compelling mystery which leads to one hell of a payoff. It's important to keep things in perspective while watching this one; don't expect too much, don't overthink it. If you set the bar too high, the entire thing will fall flat. But if you adjust your expectations appropriately, sit back, and let the movie do its work, it'll blow you away as it did me.

REVIEW: Event Horizon

Sci-fi horror is a genre that is difficult to nail down. Genuine fear comes from the audience identifying with the characters and their predicament. This can be tough when your cast is entirely made up of futuristic space-people, but it's why something like Alien works so well (essentially a movie about a bunch of blue-collar everymen who find themselves isolated while dealing with a particularly nasty insect problem). Space seems to be a less common setting for horror movies these days, despite a wealth of potential for pants-wetting scenarios. By casting your characters into a cold, soundless void filled with god-knows-what, you'd think scares would be relatively easy to come by. Event Horizon is a film that gets very close to scratching the surface as to what I'm talking about, but is held back by its own mediocrity.

The plot concerns a group of colorful military types and engineers who are sent away on a secret mission after receiving an ominous distress signal. They bring a civilian along as an advisor, and no, this is not where the similarities to the Alien franchise end. From the cryo-pods, to the numerous ladders connecting different levels of the ship, to the various pinup posters that paper the walls of the white, modern dining area, this entire movie looks like someone wanted their movie to look just like Alien (only cheaper and without the distinct touch of H.R. Giger). Entire shots are stolen wholesale from the first Alien film, and the group of multi-ethnic crewmen aboard the Lewis and Clark come off as a cheap imitation of the Colonial Marines from James Cameron's 1986 sequel. Rather than xenomorphs, the threat in Event Horizon is much more vague and psychological in nature, as members of the rescue party begin to experience hallucinations and visions that seem intent on driving them mad; The Shining in space is a concept with legs, but the film doesn't really do anything interesting with it. There's no profound message or character study, but there is an obligatory shot of a bloody deluge flowing towards a character, as if the comparisons were too difficult to draw before.

In all seriousness though, the plot had real potential, as generic as the framework is. As explained by Dr. William Weir (Sam Neill), the Event Horizon was an experimental spacecraft designed for faster-than-light travel; thanks to a gravity drive designed by Weir, the ship would essentially rip open a singularity and use the rift as a gateway between two points in space, travelling between them instantaneously. Seven years after mysteriously disappearing during its disastrous maiden voyage, the titular ship has resurfaced around Neptune, far from any populated outpost. Naturally, some terrible things happened as a result of this flagrant violation of the laws of physics, and the rescue crew of the Lewis and Clark are sure to end up dealing with it.

The idea of crossing dimensions and the incomprehensible horrors that might lie beyond is a strong, if a bit heavy, concept for a horror movie. Done properly, it could result in something truly terrifying, on a purely psychological, cerebral level. Unfortunately, the film focuses far too much on the wrong aspects of this idea. It's all but outright stated that the Event Horizon blinked into what is essentially literally Hell. A spaceship that flies to Hell and returns as a malevolent consciousness is, put bluntly, a really stupid idea. We should know very little about where the ship has been, only left with the implication that there's something horrible on the other side. Instead, we have characters talking about how the ship is "alive" and "won't let them leave". Combining a sci-fi film with a haunted house movie worked for Alien, but that's because they didn't make the Nostromo into a literal haunted house. Conversely, while we hear far too much about what's going on, we know far too little about our actual characters and why the ship is affecting them in such a way. We understand that the ship is forcing the crew to confront their inner demons, but only a few characters have any depth to their visions. We don't know why the medical technician is seeing her son with horrible lesions on his legs and we don't know why Sam Neill feels guilty for his late wife's suicide; there's a few throwaway lines that technically act as explanations, but it's obvious that these character details should have been the true meat of the film, rather than the paper-thin set dressing that they are.

The cast is by and large forgettable. There's the spunky young guy, the single mom, the two moody British guys, blonde woman, Sam Neill, Laurence Fishburne, and black Hudson. Note how only Sam Neill and Laurence Fishburne are the only memorable ones there; Fishburne is an excellent leading man and Neill plays a great obsessive scientist (even if his disbelief that anything odd could be going on borders Mr. Magoo levels of blindness). Honestly, these two are the only things that make the movie tolerable; not that the rest of the cast is bad (though there are definitely some lousy performances here), it's just that Neill and Fishburne are the only ones with anything beyond the most basic characterization. It's only natural that one's attention is drawn to the least-wooden things in the film. This is a movie that thrives on psychological horror, yet starves the audience for any organic humanity.

Event Horizon is an interesting premise that unfortunately amounts to little more than a forgettable ripoff of better horror movies. Sure, the sets are impressive and the plot feels like it's going somewhere interesting, but the lack of rounded-out characterization, coupled with the abundance of unanswered questions, makes for an aimless experience that makes me wish I was watching Alien instead. Not exactly new ground for director Paul W.S. Anderson; like most of his work, it's a shame that a concept with this much potential turned out to be so middling and bland.

REVIEW: The Boxtrolls

If there's one studio that has found its way into my good graces due to the sheer dedication and elbow grease evident in everything they produce, it would have to be Laika. The successor to the iconic Will Vinton Studios, Laika has found past success with Coraline and the all-around spectacular Paranorman (with the promising Kubo and the Two Strings releasing later this year). A release from Laika is sure to be a treat, which is why I was so excited to finally check out their 2014 film, The Boxtrolls. The entire ad campaign emphasized the staggering attention to detail and amount of manhours it took to produce everything we see on screen; it makes sense then that The Boxtrolls is easily Laika's most visually gorgeous (if not the most story-driven) entry to date.

Taking place in the fantastically Victorian town of Cheesebridge, the plot follows a boy called Eggs (Game of Thrones' Isaac Hempstead Wright); after being separated from his father as a baby, Eggs finds himself in the care of the Boxtrolls, a race of subterrainean goblins with a penchant for acquiring scrap and turning it into marvelous inventions. Trouble is stirred up by the underhanded pest exterminator, Archibald Snatcher (Ben Kingsley), who is hell-bent on eliminating the trolls (perceived as a threat by the residents of Cheesebridge) and earning himself a place amongst the town's cheese-loving elites. It's up to Eggs and a tenacious girl named Winnie (Elle Fanning) to put a stop to all this unfounded prejudice and save Eggs' adoptive family before it's too late.

As one would expect from Laika, this film is utterly gorgeous. The amount of moving characters on-screen at a time can verge on the absurd and the natural flow and weight everything has to it is a true testament to the amount of work that was clearly put into bringing this story to the screen. There's even a delightful mid-credits sequence featuring Richard Ayoade and Nick Frost that spells it out plainly in the event that any audience member didn't understand it just yet; everything you saw on screen, from the tiniest crumb of cheese to the tallest building, was a real, physical object that was constructed and manipulated for hours and hours by a dedicated team of artists and animators. Clearly there was some CGI used to clean things up in post (you can't exactly use stop-motion animation on anything in midair without the use of greenscreen technology), but I still had moments of realization where it dawned on me that things like physics and fabrics and wind all had to be animated by hand, rather than by an algorithm or engine. It's really quite stunning, in hindsight, and is worth the price of admission alone.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of the story. While I adore the setting and cheekily macabre tone of the film, the pacing and story structure is sloppy at best; we never really get a feel for these characters in terms of their personalities. The closest thing we've got are two of Snatcher's henchmen, voiced by Ayoade and Frost; everyone does a solid job when it comes to voice acting, but there's hardly any depth to be found here (as opposed to something like Paranorman, a children's story that was the pure definition of "wise beyond its years"). Take Ben Kingsley's character for example; Mr. Snatcher is a wonderfully designed protagonist, with his greasy hair and spindly appendages. He's every cockney bad guy rolled into one and I immediately perked up every time he came on screen, since he was just so much fun to look at (and to listen to; Kingsley is flat-out unrecognizable here). However, we never really get a feel for who he is. We understand he wants to eat cheese with all the socialites (despite his horrid cheese allergy) and we understand he hates Winnie's father and we understand he hates the Boxtrolls, but we never understand why. The movie hints upon something interesting during the climax, but we're left wanting when it comes to some solid characterization, both for Snatcher and for everyone else.

While it's arguably the weakest film Laika has ever produced, that still places it leagues above the majority of children's entertainment available today. Its black, oddball sense of humor, whimsical tone, and obviously stunning visuals give it the feel of a macabre fairy tale (now that I think of it, I feel as though Laika may have a "type"). If you're looking for something cozy and visually engrossing, The Boxtrolls is certainly a solid option that's sure to delight.